Them Irishers last summer had all got stones ready for us, and was all but letting drive, and we'd got two reverend gents aboard too.

We pulled up at the beginning of the line, and pacified them, and we're never going to carry no more pea-shooters, unless they promises not to fire where there's a line of Irish chaps a-stonebreaking." The guard stopped and pulled away at his cheroot, regarding Tom benignantly the while.
"Oh, don't stop! Tell us something more about the pea-shooting." "Well, there'd like to have been a pretty piece of work over it at Bicester, a while back.

We was six mile from the town, when we meets an old square-headed gray-haired yeoman chap, a-jogging along quite quiet.
He looks up at the coach, and just then a pea hits him on the nose, and some catches his cob behind and makes him dance up on his hind legs.

I see'd the old boy's face flush and look plaguy awkward, and I thought we was in for somethin' nasty.
"He turns his cob's head and rides quietly after us just out of shot.
How that 'ere cob did step! We never shook him off not a dozen yards in the six miles.

At first the young gents was werry lively on him; but afore we got in, seeing how steady the old chap come on, they was quite quiet, and laid their heads together what they should do.