His master said it suited him very well because he was so green.
"The advice seems wise, Hans.

Go now.

No, no more gin," I answered.
As a matter of fact careful consideration convinced us it was so wise that we acted on it down to the last detail.
So it came about that one fine afternoon about a fortnight later, for hurry as we would our preparations took a little time, we trekked for Zululand over the sandy roads that ran from the outskirts of Durban.
Our baggage and stores were stowed in two half-tented wagons, very good wagons since everything we had with us was the best that money could buy, the after-part of which served us as sleeping-places at night.
Hans sat on the _voor-kisse_ or driving-seat of one of the wagons; Lord Ragnall, Savage and I were mounted upon "salted" horses, that is, horses which had recovered from and were therefore supposed to be proof against the dreadful sickness, valuable and docile animals which were trained to shooting.
At our start a little contretemps occurred.

To my amazement I saw Savage, who insisted upon continuing to wear his funereal upper servant's cut-away coat, engaged with grim determination in mounting his steed from the wrong side.

He got into the saddle somehow, but there was worse to follow.