Daylight came soon afterwards, I suppose; but I did not watch for the dawn, for, as soon as the last of the horsemen had passed and the word was given, I sank down again and slept as a tired lad can sleep. Again, as it seemed, only a few minutes expired before the trumpet once more rang out, and I had to shake myself together, when the first face that looked into mine was that of Joeboy, who was standing close by me with a heap of haversacks at his feet, and grinning at me with a good-humoured smile. I didn’t smile, for I felt stiff and full of aches and pains; but before long fires were burning and water getting hot. I had a good shower-bath, too, in a gurgling spring of water which came down a rift by the gap in the pass. Then sweet hot coffee and slices of bread and cold ham out of one of the haversacks Joeboy had foraged for seemed to quite alter the face of nature. Perhaps it was that the sun came out warm and bright, and that the blue sky was beautiful; but I gave the bread, ham, and coffee the credit of it all. Ah! what a breakfast that was! It seemed to me the most delicious I had ever eaten; but before it was begun I had been to see Denham, who was sitting up with his chest tightly bandaged. He was ready to hold out a hand as soon as he saw me.
“Hullo, Moray!” he cried, “how are you this morning?”
“It’s how are you?” I replied.
“Oh, I’m all right. A bit stiff, and I’ve got a bruise in the back, the doctor says, like; the top of a silk hat.”
“You haven’t seen it?” I said.
“Have I got a neck like an ostrich or a giraffe? No, of course I haven’t.”
“But is anything broken?” I asked anxiously.
“No, not even cracked. The pot’s quite sound, so the doctor hasn’t put in a single rivet.”
“I am glad,” I said heartily.
“That’s right—thank you,” said the poor fellow, smiling pleasantly, and he kept his eyes fixed upon me for some moments. Then in a light bantering way he went on, “Doctor said the well-worn old thing.”