STATE OF THE CAMP. 239 



buffalo horses he had still a beautiful one left had fal 

 len so lame as to be, for the present, useless. 



The tents, those of the officers and myself, were always 

 pitched close together, and we made mine our dining- 

 room, the ambulance and dog-waggon drawn up close to 

 me, that I might be near my favourite dogs, have my 

 arms and ammunition close to me, and George Bromfield 

 as well to wait at dinner, of which duty he acquitted 

 himself admirably. Now, for the first time, I had very 

 clear evidence of how distasteful my league with the 

 officers at Fort Riley was to Mr Canterall. That fellow 

 pitched his waggon and tent as far from that of the sol 

 diers as possible, and unless he had the most direct orders 

 from me, which he knew he dared not disobey, he never 

 brought anything from my kitchen to the general mess, 

 the two ends of the encampment beautifully illustrating 

 the two expressions, discipline and disorder. Our din 

 ner table, however, on the first night, afforded game and 

 a bit of beef the officers brought with them, as well as 

 potted meats, potted salmon (which latter was excellent), 

 and sardines, sherry, brandy, whiskey, coffee, and tea; 

 so we were very jovial and comfortable. After dinner 

 Mr Canterall came into our tent for orders at least he 

 made that the reason for intrusion, and usually took a 

 seat, with the accustomed familiarity of his country, on 

 the corner, at the foot of my bed. When there, it was 

 amusing, though disgusting, to see him spit in spite of 

 himself, for he was perpetually oblivious of my orders in 

 that particular, though wishing to obey them ; but habit 

 was all-powerful, and the rascal was therefore never at his 

 ease. He came to my tent in reality to get what he was 

 very fond of, even, as I subsequently found, to its theft, 



