"Oh, I don't know," said Denham dismally. "We're poor sort of machines--always getting out of order." "Have you two been falling out?" said the doctor, turning to me. "No," I said; "we haven't had a word. Denham's in rather a bad temper this morning." "Why, you impudent beggar!" he cried, "for two pins I'd punch your head." "Bravo!" cried the doctor. "Here, I'll give 'em to you. Humph! No; only got one. Stop a minute; I'll give you a needle out of my case instead. Will that do?" "Look here, doctor," cried Denham; "I can't stand chaff now." "Chaff, my dear boy? I'm in earnest. That's right; go at him. Have a really good fight. It will do you good." "Bah!" cried Denham, as he saw me laughing. "Here, come along up to the wall, Val. I don't want to fall out with the doctor any more." "That you don't," said that gentleman, offering his hand. "There, good-morning, patients. I know. But cheer up. I like that bit of spirit Denham showed just now. It was a splendid sign. You'll eat the grill when it comes?" He did not wait for an answer, but bustled away, Denham looking after him till he was out of hearing. "I wish I hadn't been so snappish with him," he said rather remorsefully. "He has done a lot for us." "Heaps," I said. "And we must seem very ungrateful." "He knows how fretful weak people can be," I said. "Come, let's get up into the sunshine." For I was having hard work with poor Denham in those days. His sufferings had affected him in a curious way. He was completely soured, and a word or two, however well meant, often sent him into a towering rage. Even then I had to temporise, for he turned impatiently away. "Hang the sunshine!" he said. "But it will do you good," I said. "I don't want to get any good. It only makes me worse. I shall stop down here in the shade." "I'm sorry," I said, "for I wanted to be up in the fresh air this morning." "Oh, well, if you want to go I'll come with you." "Yes, do," I said; and we went out into the great court, where the horses were fidgeting, and biting and kicking at one another, and being shouted at by the men, who were brushing away at their coats to get them into as high a state of perfection as possible. There were the bullocks too, sadly reduced in numbers, and suggesting famine if some new efforts were not made. "Don't stop looking about," said Denham peevishly. "How worn and shabby the men look! It gives me the horrors." I followed him, but after his remark I gave a sharp look at the groups of men we passed, especially one long double line going through the sword exercise and pursuing-practice under the instructions of Sergeant Briggs; and as, at every barked-out order, the men made their sabre-blades flash in the sunshine, I felt a thrill as of returning strength run through me; but I noticed how thin, though still active and strong, the fellows looked.