Florian was in a weak condition, as he had suffered much from
fever throughout the rainy season. He started under
disadvantageous circumstances, as he had purchased a horse that
was a bad bargain. The Arabs, who are sharp practitioners, had
dealt hardly with him, as they had sold him a wretched brute that
could make no other use of its legs than to kick. Of course they
had imposed upon poor Florian a long history of how this horse in
a giraffe hunt had been the first at the death, &c. &c., and he,
the deceived, had promised to shoot a hippopotamus to give them
in barter. This he had already done, and he had exchanged a river
horse, worth twenty dollars, for a terrestrial horse, worth
twenty piastres.
Florian had never mounted a horse in his lifetime as his shooting
had always been on foot. This he now explained to us, although
the confession was quite unnecessary, as his first attempt at
mounting was made upon the wrong side.
Throughout his journey to Geera on the Settite, there was a
constant difference of opinion between him and his new purchase,
until we suddenly heard a heavy fall. Upon looking back, I
perceived Florian like a spread eagle on his stomach upon the
ground, lying before the horse, who was quietly looking at his
new master.
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