Mr.Winkle was muffled up in a huge cloak to escape observation, and Mr.Snodgrass bore under his the instruments of destruction.
'Have you got everything ?' said Mr.Winkle, in an agitated tone.
'Everything,' replied Mr.Snodgrass; 'plenty of ammunition, in case the shots don't take effect.

There's a quarter of a pound of powder in the case, and I have got two newspapers in my pocket for the loadings.' These were instances of friendship for which any man might reasonably feel most grateful.

The presumption is, that the gratitude of Mr.Winkle was too powerful for utterance, as he said nothing, but continued to walk on--rather slowly.
'We are in excellent time,' said Mr.Snodgrass, as they climbed the fence of the first field;'the sun is just going down.' Mr.Winkle looked up at the declining orb and painfully thought of the probability of his 'going down' himself, before long.
'There's the officer,' exclaimed Mr.Winkle, after a few minutes walking.

'Where ?' said Mr.Snodgrass.
'There--the gentleman in the blue cloak.' Mr.Snodgrass looked in the direction indicated by the forefinger of his friend, and observed a figure, muffled up, as he had described.

The officer evinced his consciousness of their presence by slightly beckoning with his hand; and the two friends followed him at a little distance, as he walked away.
The evening grew more dull every moment, and a melancholy wind sounded through the deserted fields, like a distant giant whistling for his house-dog.