Vol.1 f.030 recto

"A friend!" repeated the voice. "Who calls himself a friend and rides like that, abusing Heaven's gifts in the shape of horseflesh, and endangering, not only his own neck (which might be no great matter) but the necks of other people?"
"You have a lantern there, I see," said the traveller dismounting "and it me for a moment. You have wounded my horse, I think, with your shaft or wheel."
"Wounded him!" cried the other, "if I haven't killed him, it's no fault of yours. What do you mean by galloping along the king's highway like that, eh?"
"Give me the light," returned the traveller, snatching it from his hand, "and don't ask idle questions of a man who is in no mood for talking."
"If you had said you were in no mood for talking before, I should perhaps have been in no mood for lighting," said the voice.
"Hows'ever as it's the poor horse that's damaged and not you, one of you is welcome to the light at all events -- but it's not the crusty one."
The traveller returned no answer to this speech, but holding the light near to his panting and reeking beast, examined him in limb and carcass. Meanwhile, the other man sat very composedly in his vehicle, which was a kind of chaise with a depository for a large bag of tools, and watched his proceedings with a careful eye.
The looker-on was a round, red-faced, sturdy