'Not at all!' replied Florian, indignantly.
'Fellows do so every day now in these short-service times.'
'I was going to the front, when my horse fell lame.'
'Belong to the Mounted Infantry?'
'The dismounted now, I think,' replied Florian. 'I should like to rest here for the night, and push on as best I can to-morrow; so what can I have for supper?'
Josh Jarrett paused a moment, as if he thought a sergeant's purse would not go far in the way of luxuries, and then replied:
'Rasher of bacon and eggs, or dried beef and a good glass of squareface or Cape smoke, which you please.'
'The first will do, and a glass of the squareface, which means Hollands, I suppose. Cape smoke is a disagreeable spirit,' replied Florian wearily, as he took off his helmet and seated himself in a large cane-bottomed chair.
'Won't you lay aside your revolver?' asked Jarrett.
'Thanks—well, no—I am used to it.'