``One blanket each and no ground sheet?''
``I remember, sir,'' said Cane.
``Didn't it rain,'' said Smith.
``It rained that night, proper.''
``Drowned a few of the lice, I suppose.''
``Not many,'' said Cane.
``No, not many,'' Smith reflected. ``The Boers had the range all right
that time.''
``Gave it us proper,'' said Cane.
``We were hungry that night,'' said Smith. ``I could have eaten
biltong.''
``I did eat some of it,'' said Cane. ``Not bad stuff, what there was
of it, only not enough.''
``I don't think,'' said Smith, ``that I've ever slept on the bare
earth since.''
``No, sir?'' said Cane. ``It's hard. You get used to it. But it will
always be hard.''
``Yes, it will always be hard,'' said Smith. ``Do you remember the
time we were thirsty?''
``Oh, yes, sir,'' said Cane, ``I remember that. One doesn't forget
that.''
``No. I still dream of it sometimes,'' said Smith. ``It makes a nasty
dream. I wake with my mouth all dry too, when I dream that.''
``Yes,'' said Cane, ``one doesn't forget being thirsty.''
``Well,'' said Smith, ``I suppose we're for it all over again?''
``I suppose so, sir,'' said Cane.
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