Perhaps one had.
I, personally, should have said that the gun was suffering from the same complaint as its owner—old age.
Well, I couldn't help him in the matter of the gun, so what was the next thing?
Had I a drop of good Scotch? Yes, by Jingo, I had, and very welcome the poor old fellow was to it.
I gave him a good dose of his native medicine, which seemed to put back the clock of time for him at least a couple of dozen years.
And the third thing?
Oh, yes, the third thing. He began:—
"You see, I am an old man. I'm an honest man, oh yes, quite honest. I don't lie like the others."
He paused and looked out of the door of my tent.
"The other two are bad."