"Well, I'm not going to 'ave my watch lost through want of trying," ses John Biggs. "Tie 'im to the chair, mates."
"All right, then," ses the conjurer, very pale. "Don't tie me; I'll sit still all right if you like, but you'd better bring the chair outside in case of accidents. Bring it in the front."
George Kettle said it was all nonsense, but the conjurer said the trick was always better done in the open air, and at last they gave way and took 'im and the chair outside.
"Now," ses the conjurer, as 'e sat down, "all of you go and stand near the man woe's going to shoot. When I say 'Three,' fire. Why! there's the watch on the ground there!"
He pointed with 'is finger, and as they all looked down he jumped up out o' that chair and set off on the road to Wickham as 'ard as 'e could run. It was so sudden that nobody knew wot 'ad 'appened for a moment, and then George Kettle, wot 'ad been looking with the rest, turned round and pulled the trigger.
There was a bang that pretty nigh deafened us, and the back o' the chair was blown nearly out. By the time we'd got our senses agin the conjurer was a'most out o' sight, and Bob Pretty was explaining to John Biggs wot a good job it was 'is watch 'adn't been a gold one.
"That's wot comes o' trusting a foreigner afore a man wot you've known all your life," he ses, shaking his 'ead. "I 'ope the next man wot tries to take my good name away won't get off so easy. I felt all along the trick couldn't be done; it stands to reason it couldn't. I done my best, too."