Once, very soon after starting, in passing a country cart we as nearly as possible upset against it, a misadventure which Whipcord immediately set down as a deliberate insult intended for himself, and which nothing would satisfy him but to avenge then and there.
He leaped down off the dogcart, heedless of what became of the horse, and, throwing off his coat, shouted to the countryman to "Come on!" an invitation which the countryman answered with a crack of his whip which made the doughty hero leap as high into the air as he had ever done in his life.
As might be expected, this incident did not tend to pacify the outraged feelings of the tipsy Whipcord, who, disappointed of his vengeance on the countryman, was most pressing in his invitations to Hawkesbury or me or both of us to dismount and "have it out." Indeed, he was so eager for satisfaction that he all but pulled me off my seat on to the road, and would have done so quite had not the horse given a start at the moment, which put me out of his reach, and nearly upset him in the dust.
Things certainly did not look promising for a nice quiet drive home.
With difficulty we coaxed him back into the trap, where he at once began to vent his spleen on the horse in a manner which put that animal's temper to a grand test.
He further insisted on pulling up at every wayside inn for refreshment, until it became quite evident, if we ever reached London at all, we should certainly not do so till nearly midnight.
I held a hurried consultation with Hawkesbury as to what ought to be done.
"Don't you think," suggested I, "we had almost better go on by ourselves and leave him behind ?" "Oh no," said Hawkesbury; "that would never do.

It wouldn't be honourable." It occurred to me it would not be much less honourable than inviting a fellow to a quiet picnic and letting him in for an expedition like this.
"Well," said I, "suppose we let him drive home, and you and I go back some other way ?" "You forget I'm responsible for the trap.

No, we'd better go on as we are.

We've not come to grief so far.

Perhaps, though," said he, "you'd sooner drive ?" "What's that about sooner drive ?" shouted Whipcord, coming up at this moment.