While walking quietly away with my good friend they ran in front and behind bushes and trees, took aim with bow and arrow, but none shot: the younger men ran away with our three goats.

When we had gone a quarter of a mile my friend told me to wait and he would bring the goats, which he did: I could not feel the inebriates to be enemies; but in that state they are the worst one can encounter, for they have no fear as they have when sober.

One snatched away a fowl from our guide, that too was restored by our friend.

I did not load my gun; for any accidental discharge would have inflamed them to rashness.

We got away without shedding blood, and were thankful.