Two out of the three mules,
and Samson's horse, had been attacked by the wolves. The
flanks of the horse were terribly torn, and the entrails of
both the mules were partially hanging out. Though all three
were still standing with their backs arched, they were
rapidly dying from loss of blood. My dear little '
Strawberry' - as we called him to match William's 'Cream' and
my mare were both intact.
A few days after this, Samson's remaining horse gave out. I
had to surrender what remained of my poor beast in order to
get my companion through. The last fifty miles of the
journey I performed on foot; sometimes carrying my rifle to
relieve the staggering little mule of a few pounds extra
weight. At long last the Dalles hove in sight. And our cry,
'The tents! the tents!' echoed the joyous 'Thalassa!
Thalassa!' of the weary Greeks.
CHAPTER XXIX
'WHERE is the tent of the commanding officer?' I asked of the
first soldier I came across.
He pointed to one on the hillside. 'Ags for Major Dooker,'
was the Dutch-accented answer.
Bidding Samson stay where he was, I made my way as directed.
A middle-aged officer in undress uniform was sitting on an
empty packing-case in front of his tent, whittling a piece of
its wood.
'Pray sir,' said I in my best Louis Quatorze manner, 'have I
the pleasure of speaking to Major Dooker?'
'Tucker, sir.
