He was roused by a loud shouting of the post-boy on the leader.
'Yo-yo-yo-yo-yoe!' went the first boy.
'Yo-yo-yo-yoe!' went the second.
'Yo-yo-yo-yoe!' chimed in old Wardle himself, most lustily, with his head and half his body out of the coach window.
'Yo-yo-yo-yoe!' shouted Mr.Pickwick, taking up the burden of the cry, though he had not the slightest notion of its meaning or object.

And amidst the yo-yoing of the whole four, the chaise stopped.
'What's the matter ?' inquired Mr.Pickwick.
'There's a gate here,' replied old Wardle.

'We shall hear something of the fugitives.' After a lapse of five minutes, consumed in incessant knocking and shouting, an old man in his shirt and trousers emerged from the turnpike-house, and opened the gate.
'How long is it since a post-chaise went through here ?' inquired Mr.
Wardle.
'How long ?' 'Ah!' 'Why, I don't rightly know.

It worn't a long time ago, nor it worn't a short time ago--just between the two, perhaps.' 'Has any chaise been by at all ?' 'Oh, yes, there's been a Shay by.' 'How long ago, my friend,' interposed Mr.Pickwick; 'an hour ?' 'Ah, I dare say it might be,' replied the man.
'Or two hours ?' inquired the post--boy on the wheeler.
'Well, I shouldn't wonder if it was,' returned the old man doubtfully.
'Drive on, boys,' cried the testy old gentleman; 'don't waste any more time with that old idiot!' 'Idiot!' exclaimed the old man with a grin, as he stood in the middle of the road with the gate half-closed, watching the chaise which rapidly diminished in the increasing distance.

'No--not much o' that either; you've lost ten minutes here, and gone away as wise as you came, arter all.