apologies.

"You were angry last night because we had no rifles; you had more reason
to be glad," I remarked to the field-cornet's assistant.

"Why?"

"Because if I had been armed I might have been imprudent enough to blow
your brains out when you pointed your gun at me. And how awful that
would have been!"

"Man," he said, "it's the cursed drink."

"Well," said I, "it's all over now. Good-bye!" Off we went--my comrade,
myself, and the man who had brought our horses, Delange. The latter had
an _achter ryder_ and two spare horses. Towards noon we reached the farm
of one of Delange's friends. My mount was now thoroughly done up, having
eaten almost nothing for three days. I asked the farmer if he had a
horse for sale.

"There are several in the stable," he replied, "but they belong to my
son, and he is on commando; so I am sorry, but I can't sell you one."

"I tell you what we'll do," said Delange. "I'll give you one of mine for
yours, which can then remain here till it gets well. Should you come
round here again one day we can then change back again."

"But suppose the animal dies?"

"Oh, I'll risk that. What is one horse more or less?"