My pistols, too, had been restored, and Ringan's sword, and the gold amulet he had entrusted to me.

Somehow, in the handling of me, my store of cartouches had disappeared from my pockets.

My pistols were loaded and ready for use, but that was the extent of my defences, for I was no more good with Ringan's sword than with an Indian bow.
A young lad brought me some maize porridge and a skin of water.

I could eat little of the food, but I drank the water to the last drop, for my throat was as dry as the nether pit.

After that I lay down on my couch again, for it seemed to me that I would need to treasure every atom of my strength.