I went to the blacksmith and handed him the order.
"Yes, everybody wants to be first," said that worthy; "but first come
first served, says I."
"But this is for special service."
"Can't help that."
"Do you mean to disobey the orders of the Government?"
"Oh, no, not I! But I have no nails; may have some in a day or two."
"Whose are those you are using now?"
"They belong to the despatch riders' corps."
I at once sought out the captain of the corps and persuaded him to count
me out thirty nails. I then returned to the smith and held a candle for
him whilst he shoed my horse. When I led the animal away I found that it
was lame.
"That's nothing," said the smith. "It will soon pass."
"Oh, no. Just pull that shoe off and put it on again."
This he did, and then the lameness disappeared. I took the animal to the
stable, filled the crib with fodder, overhauled the vibrator, packed my
saddle-bags, and went to bed.
Early the next morning I started, making straight for the intermediate
station.
After three hours' riding I met a mounted policeman riding at full
speed, or the best imitation of it that his mount could produce. "The
English are coming!" was all he uttered as he passed by. When I reached
the farmhouse I heard shots falling just beyond the hill. The womenfolk
on the farm were in a pitiful state of distress.
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