Then Jabez, who was evidently not given to wasting words, drawled: "Did you get the mail?
That's in there, too, ain't it ?" "Judas priest! So 'tis.

Why didn't you remind me of it afore?
Set there like--like a wooden figurehead and let me run my legs off--" His complaints died away in the distance.

At last, with the mail bag under the seat, the caravan moved on.

It was still raining, but not so hard, and the wind blew less fiercely.

They jogged and rocked and splashed onward.