We spoke to the sick man, who was lying in the shade of a tree. He was
quite a youth, and evidently of a better stamp than his companions.

"If only I could reach a certain farm about five miles further on," he
sighed, "I think I should manage."

"Take my seat," said I, "and I'll ride your nag."

"I must tell you," he objected, "that the poor beast is quite exhausted.
It would take hours to get him there."

"Never mind, I'll start now, and you can follow on with the cart when
our horses have had a feed."

Our business admitted of no retard, so I meant to get a good start in
order not to delay my companions.

I mounted the nag and shouted "Get up!"

He stumbled forward a few steps and stood stock still. I pricked him
with the spurs, he moved on a little further and halted again. By dint
of spurring, striking, and shouting, he at last broke into a slow trot,
wearily dragging his hoofs, but before long he stopped once more.

I dismounted and tried to lead him, but he would not budge. Then I tried
driving him on ahead, but as soon as I got behind him he turned out of
the road, first to the right, then to the left. Of all heart-breaking
experiences this was the worst. I could not leave the animal to die by
the wayside; the farm was only a few miles further on, where he would