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The Beano brake, and there was not much chance of getting a seat in either of the other carriages, which were overcrowded already.

Finally Dick Wantley shouted out that he was going to go for the dirty tyke who had offered to work underprice last winter. It was his fault they were all working for sixpence half-penny, and he was going to wipe the floor with him. Some of his friends eagerly offered to assist but others interposed, and for a time it looked as if there was going to be a free fight, the aggressors struggling hard to get at their inoffensive victim. Eventually, however, Newman found a seat in Misery's brake, squatting on the floor with his back to the horses, thankful enough to be out of reach of the drunken savages, who were now roaring out ribald songs and startling the countryside as they drove along with unearthly blasts on the coach horn.

Meantime, although none of them seemed to notice it, the brake was travelling at a furious rate, and swaying about from side to side. It should have been the last of the procession but things had got a bit mixed at the 'Blue Lion' and instead of bringing up the rear it had taken second place, just behind the small vehicle containing Rushton and his friends.

Crass several times reminded them that the other carriage was so near that Rushton must be able to hear every word that was said, and these repeated admonitions at length enraged the Semi-Drunk, who shouted out that they didn't care if he could hear. To hell with him!

'Damn Rushton, and you too!' cried Bill Bates, addressing Crass. 'You're only a dirty toe-rag! That's all you are! That's the only reason you gets put in charge of jobs, 'cos you're a good nigger driver! You're a bloody sight worse than Rushton or Misery either!'

'Knock 'im orf into the road,' suggested Bundy.

Everybody seemed to think this was a very good idea, but when the Semi-Drunk attempted to rise for the purpose of carrying it out he was thrown down by a sudden lurch of the carriage on top of the prostrate figure of the owner of the coach horn, and by the time he had got right end up he had forgotten all about the plan of getting rid of Crass.

Meanwhile Rushton and the other occupants of the little wagonette had been for some time shouting to them to moderate the pace of their horses, but as the driver of Crass's 325