Tommy Walker, “Toad”, took a quick look over the edge of the ditch.  “Coach is comin, Jack,’” he whispered to his friend as he struggled to pull up his pants.
“Bugger!” Jack exclaimed, scrambling up from his knees and fumbling with his own attire.  “Schedule must be off for sure.  The bloody thing shouldn’t be along for another . . .”  He glanced at the timepiece dangling from his waistcoat.  “Half-an-hour, at least.”
“Not to worry, love,” Tommy said.  “We’ll finish up after they’ve gone by or those chaps with the pistols on the other side of the road have done their business with them.  Don’t think I could keep it up if there was any shooting and yelling.”
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