The commissariat arrangements were fearful; there was absolutely no system, and many a day all Jack could get to eat was one biscuit and four ounces of half-raw pork, washed down with muddy water from the river, and that when thousands of tons of provisions were lying at Varna, eighteen miles away. There was plenty of fruit to be obtained cheap from the villagers, who after a time began to swarm in the camp; and the wine of the country, a poisonous and highly intoxicating compound, was plentiful and cheap. Every one was warned against the fruit and wine, as sickness and dysentery began to get prevalent; but many men ignored these orders, with evil results, as will presently be seen. Napper did everything in his power to make Jack’s life miserable, and he pretty nearly succeeded. He also took to drinking heavily of the native wine, and was often half-tipsy, though never sufficiently so to prevent him carrying out his duty. One of the amusements of those in camp was bathing, and such was the terrific heat and the longing to get into the cool water that many who could not swim ventured into the lake. Life was very monotonous. There was little to do; men pined at the inactivity. Illness began to appear; at first sickness, then that dread scourge cholera, and death commenced its havoc, a havoc that was to exact a toll nearly ten times as heavy as the enemy’s lead and steel. One evening Larry O’Callaghan, who spent much of his spare time with Jack and Will, came bursting into the former’s tent, where Will was writing a letter. ‘I say, bhoys,’ he cried, ‘I’ve got a grand idea. I’ve applied for a day’s leave, and I’m going up into the country to have a look round. What do ye say to joining me; we’ll all go together, and if we don’t raise a shpree that’ll bate a first-class wake my name’s not Larry.’ Both Jack and Will entered into the idea, and applied for and obtained leave for the day after next. At seven o’clock in the morning they all met and started, little dreaming of the adventure which lay before them. CHAPTER XVI. AN ADVENTURE IN BULGARIA. Ever since the affair of the Greek firing into the camp at Varna no soldiers had been allowed to leave the camp without arms, and the cavalry always carried their swords. The three trumpeters, then, when they left the camp for their day’s ramble in the country, were thus armed. They skirted the hills, and then went for some distance through a plain covered with corn. Reaching a wood, they entered, then crossed a small stream by a rough bridge, arriving at a village, situated on the side of a hill. The cottages were all miserable-looking hovels made of mud and thatched with rushes, and the inhabitants were a spiritless-looking lot.