It was a bitterly cold day, with a freezing wind which penetrated the ragged, tattered uniforms of the men and chilled them to the bone. Jack was riding with his face well buried in the collar of his cloak and his right hand in his pocket, when he turned to Will, who was riding by his side, to make some remark to him. He was immediately struck by the pallor of his friend’s face and the way in which it was drawn as though in agony.
‘Will, dear old Will, what’s the matter?’ cried Jack.
For answer Will only groaned.
Jack spurred closer just in time to catch him as he reeled in his saddle.
‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ repeated Jack in agitated tones.
A couple of troopers dismounted, and Will was lifted from his saddle and laid on the ground.
‘Cholera,’ said one of the men sententiously.
‘Cheer up, Will!’ cried Jack. ‘What is it, old man?’
‘Cramps, awful pains,’ moaned Will. ‘Leave me, Jack; I’m done for.’
‘Nonsense! You’ll soon be all right.”