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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1086 ***
+
+                          [Picture: Book cover]
+
+ [Picture: “Buffalo Bill took me on Soldier Boy to Thunder-Bird’s Camp”]
+
+
+
+
+
+                              A Horse’s Tale
+
+
+                                    BY
+                                Mark Twain
+
+                              ILLUSTRATED BY
+                             LUCIUS HITCHCOCK
+
+                      [Picture: Decorative graphic]
+
+                           LONDON AND NEW YORK
+                            HARPER & BROTHERS
+                           PUBLISHERS .. MCMVII
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                Copyright, 1906, by Harper & Brothers.
+
+                               * * * * *
+
+                         _All rights reserved_
+
+                       Published October, 1907.
+
+                  _Printed in United States of America_.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+CHAP.                                                             PAGE
+       I.  SOLDIER BOY—PRIVATELY TO HIMSELF                          1
+      II.  LETTER FROM ROUEN—TO GENERAL ALISON                      12
+     III.  GENERAL ALISON TO HIS MOTHER                             19
+      IV.  CATHY TO HER AUNT MERCEDES                               25
+       V.  GENERAL ALISON TO MERCEDES                               33
+      VI.  SOLDIER BOY AND THE MEXICAN PLUG                         56
+     VII.  SOLDIER BOY AND SHEKELS                                  82
+    VIII.  THE SCOUT-START.  BB AND LIEUTENANT-GENERAL              88
+           ALISON
+      IX.  SOLDIER BOY AND SHEKELS AGAIN                            90
+       X.  GENERAL ALISON AND DORCAS                               100
+      XI.  SEVERAL MONTHS LATER.  ANTONIO AND THORNDIKE            116
+     XII.  MONGREL AND THE OTHER HORSE                             129
+    XIII.  GENERAL ALISON TO HIS MOTHER                            133
+     XIV.  SOLDIER BOY—TO HIMSELF                                  145
+      XV.  GENERAL ALISON TO MRS. DRAKE, THE COLONEL’S WIFE        149
+
+
+
+
+Illustrations
+
+“Buffalo Bill took me on Soldier Boy to                 _Frontispiece_
+Thunder-Bird’s Camp”
+“Look at that file of cats in your chair”                        p. 48
+“Every morning they go clattering down into the                     66
+plain”
+“There was nothing to do but stand by”                              92
+“His strength failed and he fell at her feet”                      150
+
+
+
+
+Acknowledgements
+
+
+Although I have had several opportunities to see a bull-fight, I have
+never seen one; but I needed a bull-fight in this book, and a trustworthy
+one will be found in it.  I got it out of John Hay’s _Castilian Days_,
+reducing and condensing it to fit the requirements of this small story.
+Mr. Hay and I were friends from early times, and if he were still with us
+he would not rebuke me for the liberty I have taken.
+
+The knowledge of military minutiæ exhibited in this book will be found to
+be correct, but it is not mine; I took it from _Army Regulations_, ed.
+1904; _Hardy’s Tactics_—_Cavalry_, revised ed., 1861; and _Jomini’s
+Handbook of Military Etiquette_, West Point ed., 1905.
+
+It would not be honest in me to encourage by silence the inference that I
+composed the Horse’s private bugle-call, for I did not.  I lifted it, as
+Aristotle says.  It is the opening strain in _The Pizzicato_ in _Sylvia_,
+by Delibes.  When that master was composing it he did not know it was a
+bugle-call, it was I that found it out.
+
+Along through the book I have distributed a few anachronisms and unborn
+historical incidents and such things, so as to help the tale over the
+difficult places.  This idea is not original with me; I got it out of
+Herodotus.  Herodotus says, “Very few things happen at the right time,
+and the rest do not happen at all: the conscientious historian will
+correct these defects.”
+
+The cats in the chair do not belong to me, but to another.
+
+These are all the exceptions.  What is left of the book is mine.
+
+                                                               MARK TWAIN.
+
+LONE TREE HILL, DUBLIN,
+NEW HAMPSHIRE, _October_, 1905.
+
+
+
+
+Part I
+
+
+I
+SOLDIER BOY—PRIVATELY TO HIMSELF
+
+
+I AM Buffalo Bill’s horse.  I have spent my life under his saddle—with
+him in it, too, and he is good for two hundred pounds, without his
+clothes; and there is no telling how much he does weigh when he is out on
+the war-path and has his batteries belted on.  He is over six feet, is
+young, hasn’t an ounce of waste flesh, is straight, graceful, springy in
+his motions, quick as a cat, and has a handsome face, and black hair
+dangling down on his shoulders, and is beautiful to look at; and nobody
+is braver than he is, and nobody is stronger, except myself.  Yes, a
+person that doubts that he is fine to see should see him in his beaded
+buck-skins, on my back and his rifle peeping above his shoulder, chasing
+a hostile trail, with me going like the wind and his hair streaming out
+behind from the shelter of his broad slouch.  Yes, he is a sight to look
+at then—and I’m part of it myself.
+
+I am his favorite horse, out of dozens.  Big as he is, I have carried him
+eighty-one miles between nightfall and sunrise on the scout; and I am
+good for fifty, day in and day out, and all the time.  I am not large,
+but I am built on a business basis.  I have carried him thousands and
+thousands of miles on scout duty for the army, and there’s not a gorge,
+nor a pass, nor a valley, nor a fort, nor a trading post, nor a
+buffalo-range in the whole sweep of the Rocky Mountains and the Great
+Plains that we don’t know as well as we know the bugle-calls.  He is
+Chief of Scouts to the Army of the Frontier, and it makes us very
+important.  In such a position as I hold in the military service one
+needs to be of good family and possess an education much above the common
+to be worthy of the place.  I am the best-educated horse outside of the
+hippodrome, everybody says, and the best-mannered.  It may be so, it is
+not for me to say; modesty is the best policy, I think.  Buffalo Bill
+taught me the most of what I know, my mother taught me much, and I taught
+myself the rest.  Lay a row of moccasins before me—Pawnee, Sioux,
+Shoshone, Cheyenne, Blackfoot, and as many other tribes as you please—and
+I can name the tribe every moccasin belongs to by the make of it.  Name
+it in horse-talk, and could do it in American if I had speech.
+
+I know some of the Indian signs—the signs they make with their hands, and
+by signal-fires at night and columns of smoke by day.  Buffalo Bill
+taught me how to drag wounded soldiers out of the line of fire with my
+teeth; and I’ve done it, too; at least I’ve dragged _him_ out of the
+battle when he was wounded.  And not just once, but twice.  Yes, I know a
+lot of things.  I remember forms, and gaits, and faces; and you can’t
+disguise a person that’s done me a kindness so that I won’t know him
+thereafter wherever I find him.  I know the art of searching for a trail,
+and I know the stale track from the fresh.  I can keep a trail all by
+myself, with Buffalo Bill asleep in the saddle; ask him—he will tell you
+so.  Many a time, when he has ridden all night, he has said to me at
+dawn, “Take the watch, Boy; if the trail freshens, call me.”  Then he
+goes to sleep.  He knows he can trust me, because I have a reputation.  A
+scout horse that has a reputation does not play with it.
+
+My mother was all American—no alkali-spider about _her_, I can tell you;
+she was of the best blood of Kentucky, the bluest Blue-grass aristocracy,
+very proud and acrimonious—or maybe it is ceremonious.  I don’t know
+which it is.  But it is no matter; size is the main thing about a word,
+and that one’s up to standard.  She spent her military life as colonel of
+the Tenth Dragoons, and saw a deal of rough service—distinguished service
+it was, too.  I mean, she _carried_ the Colonel; but it’s all the same.
+Where would he be without his horse?  He wouldn’t arrive.  It takes two
+to make a colonel of dragoons.  She was a fine dragoon horse, but never
+got above that.  She was strong enough for the scout service, and had the
+endurance, too, but she couldn’t quite come up to the speed required; a
+scout horse has to have steel in his muscle and lightning in his blood.
+
+My father was a bronco.  Nothing as to lineage—that is, nothing as to
+recent lineage—but plenty good enough when you go a good way back.  When
+Professor Marsh was out here hunting bones for the chapel of Yale
+University he found skeletons of horses no bigger than a fox, bedded in
+the rocks, and he said they were ancestors of my father.  My mother heard
+him say it; and he said those skeletons were two million years old, which
+astonished her and made her Kentucky pretensions look small and pretty
+antiphonal, not to say oblique.  Let me see. . . . I used to know the
+meaning of those words, but . . . well, it was years ago, and ’tisn’t as
+vivid now as it was when they were fresh.  That sort of words doesn’t
+keep, in the kind of climate we have out here.  Professor Marsh said
+those skeletons were fossils.  So that makes me part blue grass and part
+fossil; if there is any older or better stock, you will have to look for
+it among the Four Hundred, I reckon.  I am satisfied with it.  And am a
+happy horse, too, though born out of wedlock.
+
+And now we are back at Fort Paxton once more, after a forty-day scout,
+away up as far as the Big Horn.  Everything quiet.  Crows and Blackfeet
+squabbling—as usual—but no outbreaks, and settlers feeling fairly easy.
+
+The Seventh Cavalry still in garrison, here; also the Ninth Dragoons, two
+artillery companies, and some infantry.  All glad to see me, including
+General Alison, commandant.  The officers’ ladies and children well, and
+called upon me—with sugar.  Colonel Drake, Seventh Cavalry, said some
+pleasant things; Mrs. Drake was very complimentary; also Captain and Mrs.
+Marsh, Company B, Seventh Cavalry; also the Chaplain, who is always kind
+and pleasant to me, because I kicked the lungs out of a trader once.  It
+was Tommy Drake and Fanny Marsh that furnished the sugar—nice children,
+the nicest at the post, I think.
+
+That poor orphan child is on her way from France—everybody is full of the
+subject.  Her father was General Alison’s brother; married a beautiful
+young Spanish lady ten years ago, and has never been in America since.
+They lived in Spain a year or two, then went to France.  Both died some
+months ago.  This little girl that is coming is the only child.  General
+Alison is glad to have her.  He has never seen her.  He is a very nice
+old bachelor, but is an old bachelor just the same and isn’t more than
+about a year this side of retirement by age limit; and so what does he
+know about taking care of a little maid nine years old?  If I could have
+her it would be another matter, for I know all about children, and they
+adore me.  Buffalo Bill will tell you so himself.
+
+I have some of this news from over-hearing the garrison-gossip, the rest
+of it I got from Potter, the General’s dog.  Potter is the great Dane.
+He is privileged, all over the post, like Shekels, the Seventh Cavalry’s
+dog, and visits everybody’s quarters and picks up everything that is
+going, in the way of news.  Potter has no imagination, and no great deal
+of culture, perhaps, but he has a historical mind and a good memory, and
+so he is the person I depend upon mainly to post me up when I get back
+from a scout.  That is, if Shekels is out on depredation and I can’t get
+hold of him.
+
+
+
+II
+LETTER FROM ROUEN—TO GENERAL ALISON
+
+
+_MY dear Brother-in-Law_,—Please let me write again in Spanish, I cannot
+trust my English, and I am aware, from what your brother used to say,
+that army officers educated at the Military Academy of the United States
+are taught our tongue.  It is as I told you in my other letter: both my
+poor sister and her husband, when they found they could not recover,
+expressed the wish that you should have their little Catherine—as knowing
+that you would presently be retired from the army—rather than that she
+should remain with me, who am broken in health, or go to your mother in
+California, whose health is also frail.
+
+You do not know the child, therefore I must tell you something about her.
+You will not be ashamed of her looks, for she is a copy in little of her
+beautiful mother—and it is that Andalusian beauty which is not
+surpassable, even in your country.  She has her mother’s charm and grace
+and good heart and sense of justice, and she has her father’s vivacity
+and cheerfulness and pluck and spirit of enterprise, with the
+affectionate disposition and sincerity of both parents.
+
+My sister pined for her Spanish home all these years of exile; she was
+always talking of Spain to the child, and tending and nourishing the love
+of Spain in the little thing’s heart as a precious flower; and she died
+happy in the knowledge that the fruitage of her patriotic labors was as
+rich as even she could desire.
+
+Cathy is a sufficiently good little scholar, for her nine years; her
+mother taught her Spanish herself, and kept it always fresh upon her ear
+and her tongue by hardly ever speaking with her in any other tongue; her
+father was her English teacher, and talked with her in that language
+almost exclusively; French has been her everyday speech for more than
+seven years among her playmates here; she has a good working use of
+governess—German and Italian.  It is true that there is always a faint
+foreign fragrance about her speech, no matter what language she is
+talking, but it is only just noticeable, nothing more, and is rather a
+charm than a mar, I think.  In the ordinary child-studies Cathy is
+neither before nor behind the average child of nine, I should say.  But I
+can say this for her: in love for her friends and in high-mindedness and
+good-heartedness she has not many equals, and in my opinion no superiors.
+And I beg of you, let her have her way with the dumb animals—they are her
+worship.  It is an inheritance from her mother.  She knows but little of
+cruelties and oppressions—keep them from her sight if you can.  She would
+flare up at them and make trouble, in her small but quite decided and
+resolute way; for she has a character of her own, and lacks neither
+promptness nor initiative.  Sometimes her judgment is at fault, but I
+think her intentions are always right.  Once when she was a little
+creature of three or four years she suddenly brought her tiny foot down
+upon the floor in an apparent outbreak of indignation, then fetched it a
+backward wipe, and stooped down to examine the result.  Her mother said:
+
+“Why, what is it, child?  What has stirred you so?”
+
+“Mamma, the big ant was trying to kill the little one.”
+
+“And so you protected the little one.”
+
+“Yes, mamma, because he had no friend, and I wouldn’t let the big one
+kill him.”
+
+“But you have killed them both.”
+
+Cathy was distressed, and her lip trembled.  She picked up the remains
+and laid them upon her palm, and said:
+
+“Poor little anty, I’m so sorry; and I didn’t mean to kill you, but there
+wasn’t any other way to save you, it was such a hurry.”
+
+She is a dear and sweet little lady, and when she goes it will give me a
+sore heart.  But she will be happy with you, and if your heart is old and
+tired, give it into her keeping; she will make it young again, she will
+refresh it, she will make it sing.  Be good to her, for all our sakes!
+
+My exile will soon be over now.  As soon as I am a little stronger I
+shall see my Spain again; and that will make me young again!
+
+                                                                 MERCEDES.
+
+
+
+III
+GENERAL ALISON TO HIS MOTHER
+
+
+I AM glad to know that you are all well, in San Bernardino.
+
+. . . That grandchild of yours has been here—well, I do not quite know
+how many days it is; nobody can keep account of days or anything else
+where she is!  Mother, she did what the Indians were never able to do.
+She took the Fort—took it the first day!  Took me, too; took the
+colonels, the captains, the women, the children, and the dumb brutes;
+took Buffalo Bill, and all his scouts; took the garrison—to the last man;
+and in forty-eight hours the Indian encampment was hers, illustrious old
+Thunder-Bird and all.  Do I seem to have lost my solemnity, my gravity,
+my poise, my dignity?  You would lose your own, in my circumstances.
+Mother, you never saw such a winning little devil.  She is all energy,
+and spirit, and sunshine, and interest in everybody and everything, and
+pours out her prodigal love upon every creature that will take it, high
+or low, Christian or pagan, feathered or furred; and none has declined it
+to date, and none ever will, I think.  But she has a temper, and
+sometimes it catches fire and flames up, and is likely to burn whatever
+is near it; but it is soon over, the passion goes as quickly as it comes.
+Of course she has an Indian name already; Indians always rechristen a
+stranger early.  Thunder-Bird attended to her case.  He gave her the
+Indian equivalent for firebug, or fire-fly.  He said:
+
+“’Times, ver’ quiet, ver’ soft, like summer night, but when she mad she
+blaze.”
+
+Isn’t it good?  Can’t you see the flare?  She’s beautiful, mother,
+beautiful as a picture; and there is a touch of you in her face, and of
+her father—poor George! and in her unresting activities, and her fearless
+ways, and her sunbursts and cloudbursts, she is always bringing George
+back to me.  These impulsive natures are dramatic.  George was dramatic,
+so is this Lightning-Bug, so is Buffalo Bill.  When Cathy first
+arrived—it was in the forenoon—Buffalo Bill was away, carrying orders to
+Major Fuller, at Five Forks, up in the Clayton Hills.  At mid-afternoon I
+was at my desk, trying to work, and this sprite had been making it
+impossible for half an hour.  At last I said:
+
+“Oh, you bewitching little scamp, _can’t_ you be quiet just a minute or
+two, and let your poor old uncle attend to a part of his duties?”
+
+“I’ll try, uncle; I will, indeed,” she said.
+
+“Well, then, that’s a good child—kiss me.  Now, then, sit up in that
+chair, and set your eye on that clock.  There—that’s right.  If you
+stir—if you so much as wink—for four whole minutes, I’ll bite you!”
+
+It was very sweet and humble and obedient she looked, sitting there,
+still as a mouse; I could hardly keep from setting her free and telling
+her to make as much racket as she wanted to.  During as much as two
+minutes there was a most unnatural and heavenly quiet and repose, then
+Buffalo Bill came thundering up to the door in all his scout finery,
+flung himself out of the saddle, said to his horse, “Wait for me, Boy,”
+and stepped in, and stopped dead in his tracks—gazing at the child.  She
+forgot orders, and was on the floor in a moment, saying:
+
+“Oh, you are so beautiful!  Do you like me?”
+
+“No, I don’t, I love you!” and he gathered her up with a hug, and then
+set her on his shoulder—apparently nine feet from the floor.
+
+She was at home.  She played with his long hair, and admired his big
+hands and his clothes and his carbine, and asked question after question,
+as fast as he could answer, until I excused them both for half an hour,
+in order to have a chance to finish my work.  Then I heard Cathy
+exclaiming over Soldier Boy; and he was worthy of her raptures, for he is
+a wonder of a horse, and has a reputation which is as shining as his own
+silken hide.
+
+
+
+IV
+CATHY TO HER AUNT MERCEDES
+
+
+OH, it is wonderful here, aunty dear, just paradise!  Oh, if you could
+only see it! everything so wild and lovely; such grand plains, stretching
+such miles and miles and miles, all the most delicious velvety sand and
+sage-brush, and rabbits as big as a dog, and such tall and noble
+jackassful ears that that is what they name them by; and such vast
+mountains, and so rugged and craggy and lofty, with cloud-shawls wrapped
+around their shoulders, and looking so solemn and awful and satisfied;
+and the charming Indians, oh, how you would dote on them, aunty dear, and
+they would on you, too, and they would let you hold their babies, the way
+they do me, and they _are_ the fattest, and brownest, and sweetest little
+things, and never cry, and wouldn’t if they had pins sticking in them,
+which they haven’t, because they are poor and can’t afford it; and the
+horses and mules and cattle and dogs—hundreds and hundreds and hundreds,
+and not an animal that you can’t do what you please with, except uncle
+Thomas, but _I_ don’t mind him, he’s lovely; and oh, if you could hear
+the bugles: _too—too—too-too—too—too_, and so on—perfectly beautiful!  Do
+you recognize that one?  It’s the first toots of the _reveille_; it goes,
+dear me, _so_ early in the morning!—then I and every other soldier on the
+whole place are up and out in a minute, except uncle Thomas, who is most
+unaccountably lazy, I don’t know why, but I have talked to him about it,
+and I reckon it will be better, now.  He hasn’t any faults much, and is
+charming and sweet, like Buffalo Bill, and Thunder-Bird, and Mammy
+Dorcas, and Soldier Boy, and Shekels, and Potter, and Sour-Mash,
+and—well, they’re _all_ that, just angels, as you may say.
+
+The very first day I came, I don’t know how long ago it was, Buffalo Bill
+took me on Soldier Boy to Thunder-Bird’s camp, not the big one which is
+out on the plain, which is White Cloud’s, he took me to _that_ one next
+day, but this one is four or five miles up in the hills and crags, where
+there is a great shut-in meadow, full of Indian lodges and dogs and
+squaws and everything that is interesting, and a brook of the clearest
+water running through it, with white pebbles on the bottom and trees all
+along the banks cool and shady and good to wade in, and as the sun goes
+down it is dimmish in there, but away up against the sky you see the big
+peaks towering up and shining bright and vivid in the sun, and sometimes
+an eagle sailing by them, not flapping a wing, the same as if he was
+asleep; and young Indians and girls romping and laughing and carrying on,
+around the spring and the pool, and not much clothes on except the girls,
+and dogs fighting, and the squaws busy at work, and the bucks busy
+resting, and the old men sitting in a bunch smoking, and passing the pipe
+not to the left but to the right, which means there’s been a row in the
+camp and they are settling it if they can, and children playing _just_
+the same as any other children, and little boys shooting at a mark with
+bows, and I cuffed one of them because he hit a dog with a club that
+wasn’t doing anything, and he resented it but before long he wished he
+hadn’t: but this sentence is getting too long and I will start another.
+Thunder-Bird put on his Sunday-best war outfit to let me see him, and he
+was splendid to look at, with his face painted red and bright and intense
+like a fire-coal and a valance of eagle feathers from the top of his head
+all down his back, and he had his tomahawk, too, and his pipe, which has
+a stem which is longer than my arm, and I never had such a good time in
+an Indian camp in my life, and I learned a lot of words of the language,
+and next day BB took me to the camp out on the Plains, four miles, and I
+had another good time and got acquainted with some more Indians and dogs;
+and the big chief, by the name of White Cloud, gave me a pretty little
+bow and arrows and I gave him my red sash-ribbon, and in four days I
+could shoot very well with it and beat any white boy of my size at the
+post; and I have been to those camps plenty of times since; and I have
+learned to ride, too, BB taught me, and every day he practises me and
+praises me, and every time I do better than ever he lets me have a
+scamper on Soldier Boy, and _that’s_ the last agony of pleasure! for he
+is the charmingest horse, and so beautiful and shiny and black, and
+hasn’t another color on him anywhere, except a white star in his
+forehead, not just an imitation star, but a real one, with four points,
+shaped exactly like a star that’s hand-made, and if you should cover him
+all up but his star you would know him anywhere, even in Jerusalem or
+Australia, by that.  And I got acquainted with a good many of the Seventh
+Cavalry, and the dragoons, and officers, and families, and horses, in the
+first few days, and some more in the next few and the next few and the
+next few, and now I know more soldiers and horses than you can think, no
+matter how hard you try.  I am keeping up my studies every now and then,
+but there isn’t much time for it.  I love you so! and I send you a hug
+and a kiss.
+
+                                                                    CATHY.
+
+P.S.—I belong to the Seventh Cavalry and Ninth Dragoons, I am an officer,
+too, and do not have to work on account of not getting any wages.
+
+
+
+V
+GENERAL ALISON TO MERCEDES
+
+
+SHE has been with us a good nice long time, now.  You are troubled about
+your sprite because this is such a wild frontier, hundreds of miles from
+civilization, and peopled only by wandering tribes of savages?  You fear
+for her safety?  Give yourself no uneasiness about her.  Dear me, she’s
+in a nursery! and she’s got more than eighteen hundred nurses.  It would
+distress the garrison to suspect that you think they can’t take care of
+her.  They think they can.  They would tell you so themselves.  You see,
+the Seventh Cavalry has never had a child of its very own before, and
+neither has the Ninth Dragoons; and so they are like all new mothers,
+they think there is no other child like theirs, no other child so
+wonderful, none that is so worthy to be faithfully and tenderly looked
+after and protected.  These bronzed veterans of mine are very good
+mothers, I think, and wiser than some other mothers; for they let her
+take lots of risks, and it is a good education for her; and the more
+risks she takes and comes successfully out of, the prouder they are of
+her.  They adopted her, with grave and formal military ceremonies of
+their own invention—solemnities is the truer word; solemnities that were
+so profoundly solemn and earnest, that the spectacle would have been
+comical if it hadn’t been so touching.  It was a good show, and as
+stately and complex as guard-mount and the trooping of the colors; and it
+had its own special music, composed for the occasion by the bandmaster of
+the Seventh; and the child was as serious as the most serious war-worn
+soldier of them all; and finally when they throned her upon the shoulder
+of the oldest veteran, and pronounced her “well and truly adopted,” and
+the bands struck up and all saluted and she saluted in return, it was
+better and more moving than any kindred thing I have seen on the stage,
+because stage things are make-believe, but this was real and the players’
+hearts were in it.
+
+It happened several weeks ago, and was followed by some additional
+solemnities.  The men created a couple of new ranks, thitherto unknown to
+the army regulations, and conferred them upon Cathy, with ceremonies
+suitable to a duke.  So now she is Corporal-General of the Seventh
+Cavalry, and Flag-Lieutenant of the Ninth Dragoons, with the privilege
+(decreed by the men) of writing U.S.A. after her name!  Also, they
+presented her a pair of shoulder-straps—both dark blue, the one with F.
+L. on it, the other with C. G.  Also, a sword.  She wears them.  Finally,
+they granted her the _salute_.  I am witness that that ceremony is
+faithfully observed by both parties—and most gravely and decorously, too.
+I have never seen a soldier smile yet, while delivering it, nor Cathy in
+returning it.
+
+Ostensibly I was not present at these proceedings, and am ignorant of
+them; but I was where I could see.  I was afraid of one thing—the
+jealousy of the other children of the post; but there is nothing of that,
+I am glad to say.  On the contrary, they are proud of their comrade and
+her honors.  It is a surprising thing, but it is true.  The children are
+devoted to Cathy, for she has turned their dull frontier life into a sort
+of continuous festival; also they know her for a stanch and steady
+friend, a friend who can always be depended upon, and does not change
+with the weather.
+
+She has become a rather extraordinary rider, under the tutorship of a
+more than extraordinary teacher—BB, which is her pet name for Buffalo
+Bill.  She pronounces it _beeby_.  He has not only taught her seventeen
+ways of breaking her neck, but twenty-two ways of avoiding it.  He has
+infused into her the best and surest protection of a
+horseman—_confidence_.  He did it gradually, systematically, little by
+little, a step at a time, and each step made sure before the next was
+essayed.  And so he inched her along up through terrors that had been
+discounted by training before she reached them, and therefore were not
+recognizable as terrors when she got to them.  Well, she is a daring
+little rider, now, and is perfect in what she knows of horsemanship.
+By-and-by she will know the art like a West Point cadet, and will
+exercise it as fearlessly.  She doesn’t know anything about side-saddles.
+Does that distress you?  And she is a fine performer, without any saddle
+at all.  Does that discomfort you?  Do not let it; she is not in any
+danger, I give you my word.
+
+You said that if my heart was old and tired she would refresh it, and you
+said truly.  I do not know how I got along without her, before.  I was a
+forlorn old tree, but now that this blossoming vine has wound itself
+about me and become the life of my life, it is very different.  As a
+furnisher of business for me and for Mammy Dorcas she is exhaustlessly
+competent, but I like my share of it and of course Dorcas likes hers, for
+Dorcas “raised” George, and Cathy is George over again in so many ways
+that she brings back Dorcas’s youth and the joys of that long-vanished
+time.  My father tried to set Dorcas free twenty years ago, when we still
+lived in Virginia, but without success; she considered herself a member
+of the family, and wouldn’t go.  And so, a member of the family she
+remained, and has held that position unchallenged ever since, and holds
+it now; for when my mother sent her here from San Bernardino when we
+learned that Cathy was coming, she only changed from one division of the
+family to the other.  She has the warm heart of her race, and its lavish
+affections, and when Cathy arrived the pair were mother and child in five
+minutes, and that is what they are to date and will continue.  Dorcas
+really thinks she raised George, and that is one of her prides, but
+perhaps it was a mutual raising, for their ages were the same—thirteen
+years short of mine.  But they were playmates, at any rate; as regards
+that, there is no room for dispute.
+
+Cathy thinks Dorcas is the best Catholic in America except herself.  She
+could not pay any one a higher compliment than that, and Dorcas could not
+receive one that would please her better.  Dorcas is satisfied that there
+has never been a more wonderful child than Cathy.  She has conceived the
+curious idea that Cathy is _twins_, and that one of them is a boy-twin
+and failed to get segregated—got submerged, is the idea.  To argue with
+her that this is nonsense is a waste of breath—her mind is made up, and
+arguments do not affect it.  She says:
+
+“Look at her; she loves dolls, and girl-plays, and everything a girl
+loves, and she’s gentle and sweet, and ain’t cruel to dumb brutes—now
+that’s the girl-twin, but she loves boy-plays, and drums and fifes and
+soldiering, and rough-riding, and ain’t afraid of anybody or anything—and
+that’s the boy-twin; ’deed you needn’t tell _me_ she’s only _one_ child;
+no, sir, she’s twins, and one of them got shet up out of sight.  Out of
+sight, but that don’t make any difference, that boy is in there, and you
+can see him look out of her eyes when her temper is up.”
+
+Then Dorcas went on, in her simple and earnest way, to furnish
+illustrations.
+
+“Look at that raven, Marse Tom.  Would anybody befriend a raven but that
+child?  Of course they wouldn’t; it ain’t natural.  Well, the Injun boy
+had the raven tied up, and was all the time plaguing it and starving it,
+and she pitied the po’ thing, and tried to buy it from the boy, and the
+tears was in her eyes.  That was the girl-twin, you see.  She offered him
+her thimble, and he flung it down; she offered him all the doughnuts she
+had, which was two, and he flung them down; she offered him half a paper
+of pins, worth forty ravens, and he made a mouth at her and jabbed one of
+them in the raven’s back.  That was the limit, you know.  It called for
+the other twin.  Her eyes blazed up, and she jumped for him like a
+wild-cat, and when she was done with him she was rags and he wasn’t
+anything but an allegory.  That was most undoubtedly the other twin, you
+see, coming to the front.  No, sir; don’t tell _me_ he ain’t in there.
+I’ve seen him with my own eyes—and plenty of times, at that.”
+
+“Allegory?  What is an allegory?”
+
+“I don’t know, Marse Tom, it’s one of her words; she loves the big ones,
+you know, and I pick them up from her; they sound good and I can’t help
+it.”
+
+“What happened after she had converted the boy into an allegory?”
+
+“Why, she untied the raven and confiscated him by force and fetched him
+home, and left the doughnuts and things on the ground.  Petted him, of
+course, like she does with every creature.  In two days she had him so
+stuck after her that she—well, _you_ know how he follows her everywhere,
+and sets on her shoulder often when she rides her breakneck rampages—all
+of which is the girl-twin to the front, you see—and he does what he
+pleases, and is up to all kinds of devilment, and is a perfect nuisance
+in the kitchen.  Well, they all stand it, but they wouldn’t if it was
+another person’s bird.”
+
+Here she began to chuckle comfortably, and presently she said:
+
+“Well, you know, she’s a nuisance herself, Miss Cathy is, she _is_ so
+busy, and into everything, like that bird.  It’s all just as innocent,
+you know, and she don’t mean any harm, and is so good and dear; and it
+ain’t her fault, it’s her nature; her interest is always a-working and
+always red-hot, and she can’t keep quiet.  Well, yesterday it was
+‘Please, Miss Cathy, don’t do that’; and, ‘Please, Miss Cathy, let that
+alone’; and, ‘Please, Miss Cathy, don’t make so much noise’; and so on
+and so on, till I reckon I had found fault fourteen times in fifteen
+minutes; then she looked up at me with her big brown eyes that can plead
+so, and said in that odd little foreign way that goes to your heart,
+
+“’Please, mammy, make me a compliment.”
+
+“And of course you did it, you old fool?”
+
+“Marse Tom, I just grabbed her up to my breast and says, ‘Oh, you po’
+dear little motherless thing, you ain’t got a fault in the world, and you
+can do anything you want to, and tear the house down, and yo’ old black
+mammy won’t say a word!’”
+
+“Why, of course, of course—_I_ knew you’d spoil the child.”
+
+She brushed away her tears, and said with dignity:
+
+“Spoil the child? spoil _that_ child, Marse Tom?  There can’t _anybody_
+spoil her.  She’s the king bee of this post, and everybody pets her and
+is her slave, and yet, as you know, your own self, she ain’t the least
+little bit spoiled.”  Then she eased her mind with this retort: “Marse
+Tom, she makes you do anything she wants to, and you can’t deny it; so if
+she could be spoilt, she’d been spoilt long ago, because you are the very
+_worst_!  Look at that pile of cats in your chair, and you sitting on a
+candle-box, just as patient; it’s because they’re her cats.”
+
+          [Picture: “‘Look at that pile of cats in your chair’”]
+
+If Dorcas were a soldier, I could punish her for such large frankness as
+that.  I changed the subject, and made her resume her illustrations.  She
+had scored against me fairly, and I wasn’t going to cheapen her victory
+by disputing it.  She proceeded to offer this incident in evidence on her
+twin theory:
+
+“Two weeks ago when she got her finger mashed open, she turned pretty
+pale with the pain, but she never said a word.  I took her in my lap, and
+the surgeon sponged off the blood and took a needle and thread and began
+to sew it up; it had to have a lot of stitches, and each one made her
+scrunch a little, but she never let go a sound.  At last the surgeon was
+so full of admiration that he said, ‘Well, you _are_ a brave little
+thing!’ and she said, just as ca’m and simple as if she was talking about
+the weather, ‘There isn’t anybody braver but the Cid!’  You see? it was
+the boy-twin that the surgeon was a-dealing with.
+
+“Who is the Cid?”
+
+“I don’t know, sir—at least only what she says.  She’s always talking
+about him, and says he was the bravest hero Spain ever had, or any other
+country.  They have it up and down, the children do, she standing up for
+the Cid, and they working George Washington for all he is worth.”
+
+“Do they quarrel?”
+
+“No; it’s only disputing, and bragging, the way children do.  They want
+her to be an American, but she can’t be anything but a Spaniard, she
+says.  You see, her mother was always longing for home, po’ thing! and
+thinking about it, and so the child is just as much a Spaniard as if
+she’d always lived there.  She thinks she remembers how Spain looked, but
+I reckon she don’t, because she was only a baby when they moved to
+France.  She is very proud to be a Spaniard.”
+
+Does that please you, Mercedes?  Very well, be content; your niece is
+loyal to her allegiance: her mother laid deep the foundations of her love
+for Spain, and she will go back to you as good a Spaniard as you are
+yourself.  She has made me promise to take her to you for a long visit
+when the War Office retires me.
+
+I attend to her studies myself; has she told you that?  Yes, I am her
+school-master, and she makes pretty good progress, I think, everything
+considered.  Everything considered—being translated—means holidays.  But
+the fact is, she was not born for study, and it comes hard.  Hard for me,
+too; it hurts me like a physical pain to see that free spirit of the air
+and the sunshine laboring and grieving over a book; and sometimes when I
+find her gazing far away towards the plain and the blue mountains with
+the longing in her eyes, I have to throw open the prison doors; I can’t
+help it.  A quaint little scholar she is, and makes plenty of blunders.
+Once I put the question:
+
+“What does the Czar govern?”
+
+She rested her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand and took that
+problem under deep consideration.  Presently she looked up and answered,
+with a rising inflection implying a shade of uncertainty,
+
+“The dative case?”
+
+Here are a couple of her expositions which were delivered with tranquil
+confidence:
+
+“_Chaplain_, diminutive of chap.  _Lass_ is masculine, _lassie_ is
+feminine.”
+
+She is not a genius, you see, but just a normal child; they all make
+mistakes of that sort.  There is a glad light in her eye which is pretty
+to see when she finds herself able to answer a question promptly and
+accurately, without any hesitation; as, for instance, this morning:
+
+“Cathy dear, what is a cube?”
+
+“Why, a native of Cuba.”
+
+She still drops a foreign word into her talk now and then, and there is
+still a subtle foreign flavor or fragrance about even her exactest
+English—and long may this abide! for it has for me a charm that is very
+pleasant.  Sometimes her English is daintily prim and bookish and
+captivating.  She has a child’s sweet tooth, but for her health’s sake I
+try to keep its inspirations under check.  She is obedient—as is proper
+for a titled and recognized military personage, which she is—but the
+chain presses sometimes.  For instance, we were out for a walk, and
+passed by some bushes that were freighted with wild goose-berries.  Her
+face brightened and she put her hands together and delivered herself of
+this speech, most feelingly:
+
+“Oh, if I was permitted a vice it would be the _gourmandise_!”
+
+Could I resist that?  No.  I gave her a gooseberry.
+
+You ask about her languages.  They take care of themselves; they will not
+get rusty here; our regiments are not made up of natives alone—far from
+it.  And she is picking up Indian tongues diligently.
+
+
+
+VI
+SOLDIER BOY AND THE MEXICAN PLUG
+
+
+“WHEN did you come?”
+
+“Arrived at sundown.”
+
+“Where from?”
+
+“Salt Lake.”
+
+“Are you in the service?”
+
+“No.  Trade.”
+
+“Pirate trade, I reckon.”
+
+“What do you know about it?”
+
+“I saw you when you came.  I recognized your master.  He is a bad sort.
+Trap-robber, horse-thief, squaw-man, renegado—Hank Butters—I know him
+very well.  Stole you, didn’t he?”
+
+“Well, it amounted to that.”
+
+“I thought so.  Where is his pard?”
+
+“He stopped at White Cloud’s camp.”
+
+“He is another of the same stripe, is Blake Haskins.”  (_Aside_.)  They
+are laying for Buffalo Bill again, I guess.  (_Aloud_.)  “What is your
+name?”
+
+“Which one?”
+
+“Have you got more than one?”
+
+“I get a new one every time I’m stolen.  I used to have an honest name,
+but that was early; I’ve forgotten it.  Since then I’ve had thirteen
+_aliases_.”
+
+“Aliases?  What is alias?”
+
+“A false name.”
+
+“Alias.  It’s a fine large word, and is in my line; it has quite a
+learned and cerebrospinal incandescent sound.  Are you educated?”
+
+“Well, no, I can’t claim it.  I can take down bars, I can distinguish
+oats from shoe-pegs, I can blaspheme a saddle-boil with the college-bred,
+and I know a few other things—not many; I have had no chance, I have
+always had to work; besides, I am of low birth and no family.  You speak
+my dialect like a native, but you are not a Mexican Plug, you are a
+gentleman, I can see that; and educated, of course.”
+
+“Yes, I am of old family, and not illiterate.  I am a fossil.”
+
+“A which?”
+
+“Fossil.  The first horses were fossils.  They date back two million
+years.”
+
+“Gr-eat sand and sage-brush! do you mean it?”
+
+“Yes, it is true.  The bones of my ancestors are held in reverence and
+worship, even by men.  They do not leave them exposed to the weather when
+they find them, but carry them three thousand miles and enshrine them in
+their temples of learning, and worship them.”
+
+“It is wonderful!  I knew you must be a person of distinction, by your
+fine presence and courtly address, and by the fact that you are not
+subjected to the indignity of hobbles, like myself and the rest.  Would
+you tell me your name?”
+
+“You have probably heard of it—Soldier Boy.”
+
+“What!—the renowned, the illustrious?”
+
+“Even so.”
+
+“It takes my breath!  Little did I dream that ever I should stand face to
+face with the possessor of that great name.  Buffalo Bill’s horse!  Known
+from the Canadian border to the deserts of Arizona, and from the eastern
+marches of the Great Plains to the foot-hills of the Sierra!  Truly this
+is a memorable day.  You still serve the celebrated Chief of Scouts?”
+
+“I am still his property, but he has lent me, for a time, to the most
+noble, the most gracious, the most excellent, her Excellency Catherine,
+Corporal-General Seventh Cavalry and Flag-Lieutenant Ninth Dragoons,
+U.S.A.,—on whom be peace!”
+
+“Amen.  Did you say _her_ Excellency?”
+
+“The same.  A Spanish lady, sweet blossom of a ducal house.  And truly a
+wonder; knowing everything, capable of everything; speaking all the
+languages, master of all sciences, a mind without horizons, a heart of
+gold, the glory of her race!  On whom be peace!”
+
+“Amen.  It is marvellous!”
+
+“Verily.  I knew many things, she has taught me others.  I am educated.
+I will tell you about her.”
+
+“I listen—I am enchanted.”
+
+“I will tell a plain tale, calmly, without excitement, without eloquence.
+When she had been here four or five weeks she was already erudite in
+military things, and they made her an officer—a double officer.  She rode
+the drill every day, like any soldier; and she could take the bugle and
+direct the evolutions herself.  Then, on a day, there was a grand race,
+for prizes—none to enter but the children.  Seventeen children entered,
+and she was the youngest.  Three girls, fourteen boys—good riders all.
+It was a steeplechase, with four hurdles, all pretty high.  The first
+prize was a most cunning half-grown silver bugle, and mighty pretty, with
+red silk cord and tassels.  Buffalo Bill was very anxious; for he had
+taught her to ride, and he did most dearly want her to win that race, for
+the glory of it.  So he wanted her to ride me, but she wouldn’t; and she
+reproached him, and said it was unfair and unright, and taking advantage;
+for what horse in this post or any other could stand a chance against me?
+and she was very severe with him, and said, ‘You ought to be ashamed—you
+are proposing to me conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman.’  So
+he just tossed her up in the air about thirty feet and caught her as she
+came down, and said he was ashamed; and put up his handkerchief and
+pretended to cry, which nearly broke her heart, and she petted him, and
+begged him to forgive her, and said she would do anything in the world he
+could ask but that; but he said he ought to go hang himself, and he
+_must_, if he could get a rope; it was nothing but right he should, for
+he never, never could forgive himself; and then _she_ began to cry, and
+they both sobbed, the way you could hear him a mile, and she clinging
+around his neck and pleading, till at last he was comforted a little, and
+gave his solemn promise he wouldn’t hang himself till after the race; and
+wouldn’t do it at all if she won it, which made her happy, and she said
+she would win it or die in the saddle; so then everything was pleasant
+again and both of them content.  He can’t help playing jokes on her, he
+is so fond of her and she is so innocent and unsuspecting; and when she
+finds it out she cuffs him and is in a fury, but presently forgives him
+because it’s him; and maybe the very next day she’s caught with another
+joke; you see she can’t learn any better, because she hasn’t any deceit
+in her, and that kind aren’t ever expecting it in another person.
+
+“It was a grand race.  The whole post was there, and there was such
+another whooping and shouting when the seventeen kids came flying down
+the turf and sailing over the hurdles—oh, beautiful to see!  Half-way
+down, it was kind of neck and neck, and anybody’s race and nobody’s.
+Then, what should happen but a cow steps out and puts her head down to
+munch grass, with her broadside to the battalion, and they a-coming like
+the wind; they split apart to flank her, but _she_?—why, she drove the
+spurs home and soared over that cow like a bird! and on she went, and
+cleared the last hurdle solitary and alone, the army letting loose the
+grand yell, and she skipped from the horse the same as if he had been
+standing still, and made her bow, and everybody crowded around to
+congratulate, and they gave her the bugle, and she put it to her lips and
+blew ‘boots and saddles’ to see how it would go, and BB was as proud as
+you can’t think!  And he said, ‘Take Soldier Boy, and don’t pass him back
+till I ask for him!’ and I can tell you he wouldn’t have said that to any
+other person on this planet.  That was two months and more ago, and
+nobody has been on my back since but the Corporal-General Seventh Cavalry
+and Flag-Lieutenant of the Ninth Dragoons, U.S.A.,—on whom be peace!”
+
+     [Picture: Every morning they go clattering down into the plain]
+
+“Amen.  I listen—tell me more.”
+
+“She set to work and organized the Sixteen, and called it the First
+Battalion Rocky Mountain Rangers, U.S.A., and she wanted to be bugler,
+but they elected her Lieutenant-General and Bugler.  So she ranks her
+uncle the commandant, who is only a Brigadier.  And doesn’t she train
+those little people!  Ask the Indians, ask the traders, ask the soldiers;
+they’ll tell you.  She has been at it from the first day.  Every morning
+they go clattering down into the plain, and there she sits on my back
+with her bugle at her mouth and sounds the orders and puts them through
+the evolutions for an hour or more; and it is too beautiful for anything
+to see those ponies dissolve from one formation into another, and waltz
+about, and break, and scatter, and form again, always moving, always
+graceful, now trotting, now galloping, and so on, sometimes near by,
+sometimes in the distance, all just like a state ball, you know, and
+sometimes she can’t hold herself any longer, but sounds the ‘charge,’ and
+turns me loose! and you can take my word for it, if the battalion hasn’t
+too much of a start we catch up and go over the breastworks with the
+front line.
+
+“Yes, they are soldiers, those little people; and healthy, too, not
+ailing any more, the way they used to be sometimes.  It’s because of her
+drill.  She’s got a fort, now—Fort Fanny Marsh.  Major-General Tommy
+Drake planned it out, and the Seventh and Dragoons built it.  Tommy is
+the Colonel’s son, and is fifteen and the oldest in the Battalion; Fanny
+Marsh is Brigadier-General, and is next oldest—over thirteen.  She is
+daughter of Captain Marsh, Company B, Seventh Cavalry.
+Lieutenant-General Alison is the youngest by considerable; I think she is
+about nine and a half or three-quarters.  Her military rig, as
+Lieutenant-General, isn’t for business, it’s for dress parade, because
+the ladies made it.  They say they got it out of the Middle Ages—out of a
+book—and it is all red and blue and white silks and satins and velvets;
+tights, trunks, sword, doublet with slashed sleeves, short cape, cap with
+just one feather in it; I’ve heard them name these things; they got them
+out of the book; she’s dressed like a page, of old times, they say.  It’s
+the daintiest outfit that ever was—you will say so, when you see it.
+She’s lovely in it—oh, just a dream!  In some ways she is just her age,
+but in others she’s as old as her uncle, I think.  She is very learned.
+She teaches her uncle his book.  I have seen her sitting by with the book
+and reciting to him what is in it, so that he can learn to do it himself.
+
+“Every Saturday she hires little Injuns to garrison her fort; then she
+lays siege to it, and makes military approaches by make-believe trenches
+in make-believe night, and finally at make-believe dawn she draws her
+sword and sounds the assault and takes it by storm.  It is for practice.
+And she has invented a bugle-call all by herself, out of her own head,
+and it’s a stirring one, and the prettiest in the service.  It’s to call
+_me_—it’s never used for anything else.  She taught it to me, and told me
+what it says: ‘_It is I_, _Soldier—come_!’ and when those thrilling notes
+come floating down the distance I hear them without fail, even if I am
+two miles away; and then—oh, then you should see my heels get down to
+business!
+
+“And she has taught me how to say good-morning and good-night to her,
+which is by lifting my right hoof for her to shake; and also how to say
+good-bye; I do that with my left foot—but only for practice, because
+there hasn’t been any but make-believe good-byeing yet, and I hope there
+won’t ever be.  It would make me cry if I ever had to put up my left foot
+in earnest.  She has taught me how to salute, and I can do it as well as
+a soldier.  I bow my head low, and lay my right hoof against my cheek.
+She taught me that because I got into disgrace once, through ignorance.
+I am privileged, because I am known to be honorable and trustworthy, and
+because I have a distinguished record in the service; so they don’t
+hobble me nor tie me to stakes or shut me tight in stables, but let me
+wander around to suit myself.  Well, trooping the colors is a very solemn
+ceremony, and everybody must stand uncovered when the flag goes by, the
+commandant and all; and once I was there, and ignorantly walked across
+right in front of the band, which was an awful disgrace: Ah, the
+Lieutenant-General was so ashamed, and so distressed that I should have
+done such a thing before all the world, that she couldn’t keep the tears
+back; and then she taught me the salute, so that if I ever did any other
+unmilitary act through ignorance I could do my salute and she believed
+everybody would think it was apology enough and would not press the
+matter.  It is very nice and distinguished; no other horse can do it;
+often the men salute me, and I return it.  I am privileged to be present
+when the Rocky Mountain Rangers troop the colors and I stand solemn, like
+the children, and I salute when the flag goes by.  Of course when she
+goes to her fort her sentries sing out ‘Turn out the guard!’ and then . . .
+do you catch that refreshing early-morning whiff from the
+mountain-pines and the wild flowers?  The night is far spent; we’ll hear
+the bugles before long.  Dorcas, the black woman, is very good and nice;
+she takes care of the Lieutenant-General, and is Brigadier-General
+Alison’s mother, which makes her mother-in-law to the Lieutenant-General.
+That is what Shekels says.  At least it is what I think he says, though I
+never can understand him quite clearly. He—”
+
+“Who is Shekels?”
+
+“The Seventh Cavalry dog.  I mean, if he _is_ a dog.  His father was a
+coyote and his mother was a wild-cat.  It doesn’t really make a dog out
+of him, does it?”
+
+“Not a real dog, I should think.  Only a kind of a general dog, at most,
+I reckon.  Though this is a matter of ichthyology, I suppose; and if it
+is, it is out of my depth, and so my opinion is not valuable, and I don’t
+claim much consideration for it.”
+
+“It isn’t ichthyology; it is dogmatics, which is still more difficult and
+tangled up.  Dogmatics always are.”
+
+“Dogmatics is quite beyond me, quite; so I am not competing.  But on
+general principles it is my opinion that a colt out of a coyote and a
+wild-cat is no square dog, but doubtful.  That is my hand, and I stand
+pat.”
+
+“Well, it is as far as I can go myself, and be fair and conscientious.  I
+have always regarded him as a doubtful dog, and so has Potter.  Potter is
+the great Dane.  Potter says he is no dog, and not even poultry—though I
+do not go quite so far as that.
+
+“And I wouldn’t, myself.  Poultry is one of those things which no person
+can get to the bottom of, there is so much of it and such variety.  It is
+just wings, and wings, and wings, till you are weary: turkeys, and geese,
+and bats, and butterflies, and angels, and grasshoppers, and flying-fish,
+and—well, there is really no end to the tribe; it gives me the heaves
+just to think of it.  But this one hasn’t any wings, has he?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Well, then, in my belief he is more likely to be dog than poultry.  I
+have not heard of poultry that hadn’t wings.  Wings is the _sign_ of
+poultry; it is what you tell poultry by.  Look at the mosquito.”
+
+“What do you reckon he is, then?  He must be something.”
+
+“Why, he could be a reptile; anything that hasn’t wings is a reptile.”
+
+“Who told you that?”
+
+“Nobody told me, but I overheard it.”
+
+“Where did you overhear it?”
+
+“Years ago.  I was with the Philadelphia Institute expedition in the Bad
+Lands under Professor Cope, hunting mastodon bones, and I overheard him
+say, his own self, that any plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium
+that hadn’t wings and was uncertain was a reptile.  Well, then, has this
+dog any wings?  No.  Is he a plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium?
+Maybe so, maybe not; but without ever having seen him, and judging only
+by his illegal and spectacular parentage, I will bet the odds of a bale
+of hay to a bran mash that he looks it.  Finally, is he uncertain?  That
+is the point—is he uncertain?  I will leave it to you if you have ever
+heard of a more uncertainer dog than what this one is?”
+
+“No, I never have.”
+
+“Well, then, he’s a reptile.  That’s settled.”
+
+“Why, look here, whatsyourname—”
+
+“Last alias, Mongrel.”
+
+“A good one, too.  I was going to say, you are better educated than you
+have been pretending to be.  I like cultured society, and I shall
+cultivate your acquaintance.  Now as to Shekels, whenever you want to
+know about any private thing that is going on at this post or in White
+Cloud’s camp or Thunder-Bird’s, he can tell you; and if you make friends
+with him he’ll be glad to, for he is a born gossip, and picks up all the
+tittle-tattle.  Being the whole Seventh Cavalry’s reptile, he doesn’t
+belong to anybody in particular, and hasn’t any military duties; so he
+comes and goes as he pleases, and is popular with all the house cats and
+other authentic sources of private information.  He understands all the
+languages, and talks them all, too.  With an accent like gritting your
+teeth, it is true, and with a grammar that is no improvement on
+blasphemy—still, with practice you get at the meat of what he says, and
+it serves. . . Hark!  That’s the reveille. . . .
+
+               [Picture: Music score for The Reveille] {80}
+
+“Faint and far, but isn’t it clear, isn’t it sweet?  There’s no music
+like the bugle to stir the blood, in the still solemnity of the morning
+twilight, with the dim plain stretching away to nothing and the spectral
+mountains slumbering against the sky.  You’ll hear another note in a
+minute—faint and far and clear, like the other one, and sweeter still,
+you’ll notice.  Wait . . . listen.  There it goes!  It says, ‘_It is I_,
+_Soldier—come_!’ . . .
+
+            [Picture: Soldier Boy’s Bugle Call [music score]]
+
+. . . Now then, watch me leave a blue streak behind!”
+
+
+
+VII
+SOLDIER BOY AND SHEKELS
+
+
+“DID you do as I told you?  Did you look up the Mexican Plug?”
+
+“Yes, I made his acquaintance before night and got his friendship.”
+
+“I liked him.  Did you?”
+
+“Not at first.  He took me for a reptile, and it troubled me, because I
+didn’t know whether it was a compliment or not.  I couldn’t ask him,
+because it would look ignorant.  So I didn’t say anything, and soon liked
+him very well indeed.  Was it a compliment, do you think?”
+
+“Yes, that is what it was.  They are very rare, the reptiles; very few
+left, now-a-days.”
+
+“Is that so?  What is a reptile?”
+
+“It is a plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium that hasn’t any
+wings and is uncertain.”
+
+“Well, it—it sounds fine, it surely does.”
+
+“And it _is_ fine.  You may be thankful you are one.”
+
+“I am.  It seems wonderfully grand and elegant for a person that is so
+humble as I am; but I am thankful, I am indeed, and will try to live up
+to it.  It is hard to remember.  Will you say it again, please, and say
+it slow?”
+
+“Plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium that hasn’t any wings and is
+uncertain.”
+
+“It is beautiful, anybody must grant it; beautiful, and of a noble sound.
+I hope it will not make me proud and stuck-up—I should not like to be
+that.  It is much more distinguished and honorable to be a reptile than a
+dog, don’t you think, Soldier?”
+
+“Why, there’s no comparison.  It is awfully aristocratic.  Often a duke
+is called a reptile; it is set down so, in history.”
+
+“Isn’t that grand!  Potter wouldn’t ever associate with me, but I reckon
+he’ll be glad to when he finds out what I am.”
+
+“You can depend upon it.”
+
+“I will thank Mongrel for this. He is a very good sort, for a Mexican
+Plug.  Don’t you think he is?”
+
+“It is my opinion of him; and as for his birth, he cannot help that.  We
+cannot all be reptiles, we cannot all be fossils; we have to take what
+comes and be thankful it is no worse.  It is the true philosophy.”
+
+“For those others?”
+
+“Stick to the subject, please.  Did it turn out that my suspicions were
+right?”
+
+“Yes, perfectly right.  Mongrel has heard them planning.  They are after
+BB’s life, for running them out of Medicine Bow and taking their stolen
+horses away from them.”
+
+“Well, they’ll get him yet, for sure.”
+
+“Not if he keeps a sharp look-out.”
+
+“_He_ keep a sharp lookout!  He never does; he despises them, and all
+their kind.  His life is always being threatened, and so it has come to
+be monotonous.”
+
+“Does he know they are here?”
+
+“Oh yes, he knows it.  He is always the earliest to know who comes and
+who goes.  But he cares nothing for them and their threats; he only
+laughs when people warn him.  They’ll shoot him from behind a tree the
+first he knows.  Did Mongrel tell you their plans?”
+
+“Yes.  They have found out that he starts for Fort Clayton day after
+to-morrow, with one of his scouts; so they will leave to-morrow, letting
+on to go south, but they will fetch around north all in good time.”
+
+“Shekels, I don’t like the look of it.”
+
+
+
+VIII
+THE SCOUT-START.  BB AND LIEUTENANT-GENERAL ALISON
+
+
+BB (_saluting_).  “Good! handsomely done!  The Seventh couldn’t beat it!
+You do certainly handle your Rangers like an expert, General.  And where
+are you bound?”
+
+“Four miles on the trail to Fort Clayton.”
+
+“Glad am I, dear!  What’s the idea of it?”
+
+“Guard of honor for you and Thorndike.”
+
+“Bless—your—_heart_!  I’d rather have it from you than from the
+Commander-in-Chief of the armies of the United States, you incomparable
+little soldier!—and I don’t need to take any oath to that, for you to
+believe it.”
+
+“I _thought_ you’d like it, BB.”
+
+“_Like_ it?  Well, I should say so!  Now then—all ready—sound the
+advance, and away we go!”
+
+
+
+IX
+SOLDIER BOY AND SHEKELS AGAIN
+
+
+“WELL, this is the way it happened.  We did the escort duty; then we came
+back and struck for the plain and put the Rangers through a rousing
+drill—oh, for hours!  Then we sent them home under Brigadier-General
+Fanny Marsh; then the Lieutenant-General and I went off on a gallop over
+the plains for about three hours, and were lazying along home in the
+middle of the afternoon, when we met Jimmy Slade, the drummer-boy, and he
+saluted and asked the Lieutenant-General if she had heard the news, and
+she said no, and he said:
+
+“‘Buffalo Bill has been ambushed and badly shot this side of Clayton, and
+Thorndike the scout, too; Bill couldn’t travel, but Thorndike could, and
+he brought the news, and Sergeant Wilkes and six men of Company B are
+gone, two hours ago, hotfoot, to get Bill.  And they say—’
+
+“‘_Go_!’ she shouts to me—and I went.”
+
+“Fast?”
+
+“Don’t ask foolish questions.  It was an awful pace.  For four hours
+nothing happened, and not a word said, except that now and then she said,
+‘Keep it up, Boy, keep it up, sweetheart; we’ll save him!’  I kept it up.
+Well, when the dark shut down, in the rugged hills, that poor little chap
+had been tearing around in the saddle all day, and I noticed by the slack
+knee-pressure that she was tired and tottery, and I got dreadfully
+afraid; but every time I tried to slow down and let her go to sleep, so I
+could stop, she hurried me up again; and so, sure enough, at last over
+she went!
+
+            [Picture: “There was nothing to do but stand by”]
+
+“Ah, that was a fix to be in I for she lay there and didn’t stir, and
+what was I to do?  I couldn’t leave her to fetch help, on account of the
+wolves.  There was nothing to do but stand by.  It was dreadful.  I was
+afraid she was killed, poor little thing!  But she wasn’t.  She came to,
+by-and-by, and said, ‘Kiss me, Soldier,’ and those were blessed words.  I
+kissed her—often; I am used to that, and we like it.  But she didn’t get
+up, and I was worried.  She fondled my nose with her hand, and talked to
+me, and called me endearing names—which is her way—but she caressed with
+the same hand all the time.  The other arm was broken, you see, but I
+didn’t know it, and she didn’t mention it.  She didn’t want to distress
+me, you know.
+
+“Soon the big gray wolves came, and hung around, and you could hear them
+snarl, and snap at each other, but you couldn’t see anything of them
+except their eyes, which shone in the dark like sparks and stars.  The
+Lieutenant-General said, ‘If I had the Rocky Mountain Rangers here, we
+would make those creatures climb a tree.’  Then she made believe that the
+Rangers were in hearing, and put up her bugle and blew the ‘assembly’;
+and then, ‘boots and saddles’; then the ‘trot’; ‘gallop’; ‘charge!’  Then
+she blew the ‘retreat,’ and said, ‘That’s for you, you rebels; the
+Rangers don’t ever retreat!’
+
+“The music frightened them away, but they were hungry, and kept coming
+back.  And of course they got bolder and bolder, which is their way.  It
+went on for an hour, then the tired child went to sleep, and it was
+pitiful to hear her moan and nestle, and I couldn’t do anything for her.
+All the time I was laying for the wolves.  They are in my line; I have
+had experience.  At last the boldest one ventured within my lines, and I
+landed him among his friends with some of his skull still on him, and
+they did the rest.  In the next hour I got a couple more, and they went
+the way of the first one, down the throats of the detachment.  That
+satisfied the survivors, and they went away and left us in peace.
+
+“We hadn’t any more adventures, though I kept awake all night and was
+ready.  From midnight on the child got very restless, and out of her
+head, and moaned, and said, ‘Water, water—thirsty’; and now and then,
+‘Kiss me, Soldier’; and sometimes she was in her fort and giving orders
+to her garrison; and once she was in Spain, and thought her mother was
+with her.  People say a horse can’t cry; but they don’t know, because we
+cry inside.
+
+“It was an hour after sunup that I heard the boys coming, and recognized
+the hoof-beats of Pomp and Cæsar and Jerry, old mates of mine; and a
+welcomer sound there couldn’t ever be.
+
+Buffalo Bill was in a horse-litter, with his leg broken by a bullet, and
+Mongrel and Blake Haskins’s horse were doing the work.  Buffalo Bill and
+Thorndike had lolled both of those toughs.
+
+“When they got to us, and Buffalo Bill saw the child lying there so
+white, he said, ‘My God!’ and the sound of his voice brought her to
+herself, and she gave a little cry of pleasure and struggled to get up,
+but couldn’t, and the soldiers gathered her up like the tenderest women,
+and their eyes were wet and they were not ashamed, when they saw her arm
+dangling; and so were Buffalo Bill’s, and when they laid her in his arms
+he said, ‘My darling, how does this come?’ and she said, ‘We came to save
+you, but I was tired, and couldn’t keep awake, and fell off and hurt
+myself, and couldn’t get on again.’  ‘You came to save me, you dear
+little rat?  It was too lovely of you!’  ‘Yes, and Soldier stood by me,
+which you know he would, and protected me from the wolves; and if he got
+a chance he kicked the life out of some of them—for you know he would,
+BB.’  The sergeant said, ‘He laid out three of them, sir, and here’s the
+bones to show for it.’  ‘He’s a grand horse,’ said BB; ‘he’s the grandest
+horse that ever was! and has saved your life, Lieutenant-General Alison,
+and shall protect it the rest of his life—he’s yours for a kiss!’  He got
+it, along with a passion of delight, and he said, ‘You are feeling better
+now, little Spaniard—do you think you could blow the advance?’  She put
+up the bugle to do it, but he said wait a minute first.  Then he and the
+sergeant set her arm and put it in splints, she wincing but not
+whimpering; then we took up the march for home, and that’s the end of the
+tale; and I’m her horse.  Isn’t she a brick, Shekels?
+
+“Brick?  She’s more than a brick, more than a thousand bricks—she’s a
+reptile!”
+
+“It’s a compliment out of your heart, Shekels.  God bless you for it!”
+
+
+
+X
+GENERAL ALISON AND DORCAS
+
+
+“TOO much company for her, Marse Tom.  Betwixt you, and Shekels, the
+Colonel’s wife, and the Cid—”
+
+“The Cid?  Oh, I remember—the raven.”
+
+“—and Mrs. Captain Marsh and Famine and Pestilence the baby _coyotes_,
+and Sour-Mash and her pups, and Sardanapalus and her kittens—hang these
+names she gives the creatures, they warp my jaw—and Potter: you—all
+sitting around in the house, and Soldier Boy at the window the entire
+time, it’s a wonder to me she comes along as well as she does.  She—”
+
+“You want her all to yourself, you stingy old thing!”
+
+“Marse Tom, you know better.  It’s too much company.  And then the idea
+of her receiving reports all the time from her officers, and acting upon
+them, and giving orders, the same as if she was well!  It ain’t good for
+her, and the surgeon don’t like it, and tried to persuade her not to and
+couldn’t; and when he _ordered_ her, she was that outraged and indignant,
+and was very severe on him, and accused him of insubordination, and said
+it didn’t become him to give orders to an officer of her rank.  Well, he
+saw he had excited her more and done more harm than all the rest put
+together, so he was vexed at himself and wished he had kept still.
+Doctors _don’t_ know much, and that’s a fact.  She’s too much interested
+in things—she ought to rest more.  She’s all the time sending messages to
+BB, and to soldiers and Injuns and whatnot, and to the animals.”
+
+“To the animals?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Who carries them?”
+
+“Sometimes Potter, but mostly it’s Shekels.”
+
+“Now come! who can find fault with such pretty make-believe as that?”
+
+“But it ain’t make-believe, Marse Tom.  She does send them.”
+
+“Yes, I don’t doubt that part of it.”
+
+“Do you doubt they get them, sir?”
+
+“Certainly.  Don’t you?”
+
+“No, sir.  Animals talk to one another.  I know it perfectly well, Marse
+Tom, and I ain’t saying it by guess.”
+
+“What a curious superstition!”
+
+“It ain’t a superstition, Marse Tom.  Look at that Shekels—look at him,
+_now_.  Is he listening, or ain’t he?  _Now_ you see! he’s turned his
+head away.  It’s because he was caught—caught in the act.  I’ll ask
+you—could a Christian look any more ashamed than what he looks now?—_lay
+down_!  You see? he was going to sneak out.  Don’t tell _me_, Marse Tom!
+If animals don’t talk, I miss _my_ guess.  And Shekels is the worst.  He
+goes and tells the animals everything that happens in the officers’
+quarters; and if he’s short of facts, he invents them.  He hasn’t any
+more principle than a blue jay; and as for morals, he’s empty.  Look at
+him now; look at him grovel.  He knows what I am saying, and he knows
+it’s the truth.  You see, yourself, that he can feel shame; it’s the only
+virtue he’s got.  It’s wonderful how they find out everything that’s
+going on—the animals.  They—”
+
+“Do you really believe they do, Dorcas?”
+
+“I don’t only just believe it, Marse Tom, I know it.  Day before
+yesterday they knew something was going to happen.  They were that
+excited, and whispering around together; why, anybody could see that
+they— But my! I must get back to her, and I haven’t got to my errand
+yet.”
+
+“What is it, Dorcas?”
+
+“Well, it’s two or three things.  One is, the doctor don’t salute when he
+comes . . . Now, Marse Tom, it ain’t anything to laugh at, and so—”
+
+“Well, then, forgive me; I didn’t mean to laugh—I got caught unprepared.”
+
+“You see, she don’t want to hurt the doctor’s feelings, so she don’t say
+anything to him about it; but she is always polite, herself, and it hurts
+that kind for people to be rude to them.”
+
+“I’ll have that doctor hanged.”
+
+“Marse Tom, she don’t _want_ him hanged.  She—”
+
+“Well, then, I’ll have him boiled in oil.”
+
+“But she don’t _want_ him boiled.  I—”
+
+“Oh, very well, very well, I only want to please her; I’ll have him
+skinned.”
+
+“Why, _she_ don’t want him skinned; it would break her heart.  Now—”
+
+“Woman, this is perfectly unreasonable.  What in the nation _does_ she
+want?”
+
+“Marse Tom, if you would only be a little patient, and not fly off the
+handle at the least little thing.  Why, she only wants you to speak to
+him.”
+
+“Speak to him!  Well, upon my word!  All this unseemly rage and row about
+such a—a— Dorcas, I never saw you carry on like this before.  You have
+alarmed the sentry; he thinks I am being assassinated; he thinks there’s
+a mutiny, a revolt, an insurrection; he—”
+
+“Marse Tom, you are just putting on; you know it perfectly well; I don’t
+know what makes you act like that—but you always did, even when you was
+little, and you can’t get over it, I reckon.  Are you over it now, Marse
+Tom?”
+
+“Oh, well, yes; but it would try anybody to be doing the best he could,
+offering every kindness he could think of, only to have it rejected with
+contumely and . . . Oh, well, let it go; it’s no matter—I’ll talk to the
+doctor.  Is that satisfactory, or are you going to break out again?”
+
+“Yes, sir, it is; and it’s only right to talk to him, too, because it’s
+just as she says; she’s trying to keep up discipline in the Rangers, and
+this insubordination of his is a bad example for them—now ain’t it so,
+Marse Tom?”
+
+“Well, there _is_ reason in it, I can’t deny it; so I will speak to him,
+though at bottom I think hanging would be more lasting.  What is the rest
+of your errand, Dorcas?”
+
+“Of course her room is Ranger headquarters now, Marse Tom, while she’s
+sick.  Well, soldiers of the cavalry and the dragoons that are off duty
+come and get her sentries to let them relieve them and serve in their
+place.  It’s only out of affection, sir, and because they know military
+honors please her, and please the children too, for her sake; and they
+don’t bring their muskets; and so—”
+
+“I’ve noticed them there, but didn’t twig the idea.  They are standing
+guard, are they?”
+
+“Yes, sir, and she is afraid you will reprove them and hurt their
+feelings, if you see them there; so she begs, if—if you don’t mind coming
+in the back way—”
+
+“Bear me up, Dorcas; don’t let me faint.”
+
+“There—sit up and behave, Marse Tom.  You are not going to faint; you are
+only pretending—you used to act just so when you was little; it does seem
+a long time for you to get grown up.”
+
+“Dorcas, the way the child is progressing, I shall be out of my job
+before long—she’ll have the whole post in her hands.  I must make a
+stand, I must not go down without a struggle.  These encroachments. . . .
+Dorcas, what do you think she will think of next?”
+
+“Marse Tom, she don’t mean any harm.”
+
+“Are you sure of it?”
+
+“Yes, Marse Tom.”
+
+“You feel sure she has no ulterior designs?”
+
+“I don’t know what that is, Marse Tom, but I know she hasn’t.”
+
+“Very well, then, for the present I am satisfied.  What else have you
+come about?”
+
+“I reckon I better tell you the whole thing first, Marse Tom, then tell
+you what she wants.  There’s been an emeute, as she calls it.  It was
+before she got back with BB.  The officer of the day reported it to her
+this morning.  It happened at her fort.  There was a fuss betwixt
+Major-General Tommy Drake and Lieutenant-Colonel Agnes Frisbie, and he
+snatched her doll away, which is made of white kid stuffed with sawdust,
+and tore every rag of its clothes off, right before them all, and is
+under arrest, and the charge is conduct un—”
+
+“Yes, I know—conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman—a plain case,
+too, it seems to me.  This is a serious matter.  Well, what is her
+pleasure?”
+
+“Well, Marse Tom, she has summoned a court-martial, but the doctor don’t
+think she is well enough to preside over it, and she says there ain’t
+anybody competent but her, because there’s a major-general concerned; and
+so she—she—well, she says, would you preside over it for her? . . . Marse
+Tom, _sit_ up!  You ain’t any more going to faint than Shekels is.”
+
+“Look here, Dorcas, go along back, and be tactful.  Be persuasive; don’t
+fret her; tell her it’s all right, the matter is in my hands, but it
+isn’t good form to hurry so grave a matter as this.  Explain to her that
+we have to go by precedents, and that I believe this one to be new.  In
+fact, you can say I know that nothing just like it has happened in our
+army, therefore I must be guided by European precedents, and must go
+cautiously and examine them carefully.  Tell her not to be impatient, it
+will take me several days, but it will all come out right, and I will
+come over and report progress as I go along.  Do you get the idea,
+Dorcas?”
+
+“I don’t know as I do, sir.”
+
+“Well, it’s this.  You see, it won’t ever do for me, a brigadier in the
+regular army, to preside over that infant court-martial—there isn’t any
+precedent for it, don’t you see.  Very well.  I will go on examining
+authorities and reporting progress until she is well enough to get me out
+of this scrape by presiding herself.  Do you get it now?”
+
+“Oh, yes, sir, I get it, and it’s good, I’ll go and fix it with her.
+_Lay down_! and stay where you are.”
+
+“Why, what harm is he doing?”
+
+“Oh, it ain’t any harm, but it just vexes me to see him act so.”
+
+“What was he doing?”
+
+“Can’t you see, and him in such a sweat?  He was starting out to spread
+it all over the post.  _Now_ I reckon you won’t deny, any more, that they
+go and tell everything they hear, now that you’ve seen it with yo’ own
+eyes.”
+
+“Well, I don’t like to acknowledge it, Dorcas, but I don’t see how I can
+consistently stick to my doubts in the face of such overwhelming proof as
+this dog is furnishing.”
+
+“There, now, you’ve got in yo’ right mind at last!  I wonder you can be
+so stubborn, Marse Tom.  But you always was, even when you was little.
+I’m going now.”
+
+“Look here; tell her that in view of the delay, it is my judgment that
+she ought to enlarge the accused on his parole.”
+
+“Yes, sir, I’ll tell her.  Marse Tom?”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“She can’t get to Soldier Boy, and he stands there all the time, down in
+the mouth and lonesome; and she says will you shake hands with him and
+comfort him?  Everybody does.”
+
+“It’s a curious kind of lonesomeness; but, all right, I will.”
+
+
+
+XI
+SEVERAL MONTHS LATER.  ANTONIO AND THORNDIKE
+
+
+“THORNDIKE, isn’t that Plug you’re riding an asset of the scrap you and
+Buffalo Bill had with the late Blake Haskins and his pal a few months
+back?”
+
+“Yes, this is Mongrel—and not a half-bad horse, either.”
+
+“I’ve noticed he keeps up his lick first-rate.  Say—isn’t it a gaudy
+morning?”
+
+“Right you are!”
+
+“Thorndike, it’s Andalusian! and when that’s said, all’s said.”
+
+“Andalusian _and_ Oregonian, Antonio!  Put it that way, and you have my
+vote.  Being a native up there, I know.  You being Andalusian-born—”
+
+“Can speak with authority for that patch of paradise?  Well, I can.  Like
+the Don! like Sancho!  This is the correct Andalusian dawn now—crisp,
+fresh, dewy, fragrant, pungent—”
+
+    “‘What though the spicy breezes
+    Blow soft o’er Ceylon’s isle—’
+
+—_git_ up, you old cow! stumbling like that when we’ve just been praising
+you! out on a scout and can’t live up to the honor any better than that?
+Antonio, how long have you been out here in the Plains and the Rockies?”
+
+“More than thirteen years.”
+
+“It’s a long time.  Don’t you ever get homesick?”
+
+“Not till now.”
+
+“Why _now_?—after such a long cure.”
+
+“These preparations of the retiring commandant’s have started it up.”
+
+“Of course.  It’s natural.”
+
+“It keeps me thinking about Spain.  I know the region where the Seventh’s
+child’s aunt lives; I know all the lovely country for miles around; I’ll
+bet I’ve seen her aunt’s villa many a time; I’ll bet I’ve been in it in
+those pleasant old times when I was a Spanish gentleman.”
+
+“They say the child is wild to see Spain.”
+
+“It’s so; I know it from what I hear.”
+
+“Haven’t you talked with her about it?”
+
+“No.  I’ve avoided it.  I should soon be as wild as she is.  That would
+not be comfortable.”
+
+“I wish I was going, Antonio.  There’s two things I’d give a lot to see.
+One’s a railroad.”
+
+“She’ll see one when she strikes Missouri.”
+
+“The other’s a bull-fight.”
+
+“I’ve seen lots of them; I wish I could see another.”
+
+“I don’t know anything about it, except in a mixed-up, foggy way,
+Antonio, but I know enough to know it’s grand sport.”
+
+“The grandest in the world!  There’s no other sport that begins with it.
+I’ll tell you what I’ve seen, then you can judge.  It was my first, and
+it’s as vivid to me now as it was when I saw it.  It was a Sunday
+afternoon, and beautiful weather, and my uncle, the priest, took me as a
+reward for being a good boy and because of my own accord and without
+anybody asking me I had bankrupted my savings-box and given the money to
+a mission that was civilizing the Chinese and sweetening their lives and
+softening their hearts with the gentle teachings of our religion, and I
+wish you could have seen what we saw that day, Thorndike.
+
+“The amphitheatre was packed, from the bull-ring to the highest
+row—twelve thousand people in one circling mass, one slanting, solid
+mass—royalties, nobles, clergy, ladies, gentlemen, state officials,
+generals, admirals, soldiers, sailors, lawyers, thieves, merchants,
+brokers, cooks, housemaids, scullery-maids, doubtful women, dudes,
+gamblers, beggars, loafers, tramps, American ladies, gentlemen,
+preachers, English ladies, gentlemen, preachers, German ditto, French
+ditto, and so on and so on, all the world represented: Spaniards to
+admire and praise, foreigners to enjoy and go home and find fault—there
+they were, one solid, sloping, circling sweep of rippling and flashing
+color under the downpour of the summer sun—just a garden, a gaudy,
+gorgeous flower-garden!  Children munching oranges, six thousand fans
+fluttering and glimmering, everybody happy, everybody chatting gayly with
+their intimates, lovely girl-faces smiling recognition and salutation to
+other lovely girl-faces, gray old ladies and gentlemen dealing in the
+like exchanges with each other—ah, such a picture of cheery contentment
+and glad anticipation! not a mean spirit, nor a sordid soul, nor a sad
+heart there—ah, Thorndike, I wish I could see it again.
+
+“Suddenly, the martial note of a bugle cleaves the hum and murmur—clear
+the ring!
+
+“They clear it.  The great gate is flung open, and the procession marches
+in, splendidly costumed and glittering: the marshals of the day, then the
+picadores on horseback, then the matadores on foot, each surrounded by
+his quadrille of _chulos_.  They march to the box of the city fathers,
+and formally salute.  The key is thrown, the bull-gate is unlocked.
+Another bugle blast—the gate flies open, the bull plunges in, furious,
+trembling, blinking in the blinding light, and stands there, a
+magnificent creature, centre of those multitudinous and admiring eyes,
+brave, ready for battle, his attitude a challenge.  He sees his enemy:
+horsemen sitting motionless, with long spears in rest, upon blindfolded
+broken-down nags, lean and starved, fit only for sport and sacrifice,
+then the carrion-heap.
+
+“The bull makes a rush, with murder in his eye, but a picador meets him
+with a spear-thrust in the shoulder.  He flinches with the pain, and the
+picador skips out of danger.  A burst of applause for the picador, hisses
+for the bull.  Some shout ‘Cow!’ at the bull, and call him offensive
+names.  But he is not listening to them, he is there for business; he is
+not minding the cloak-bearers that come fluttering around to confuse him;
+he chases this way, he chases that way, and hither and yon, scattering
+the nimble banderillos in every direction like a spray, and receiving
+their maddening darts in his neck as they dodge and fly—oh, but it’s a
+lively spectacle, and brings down the house!  Ah, you should hear the
+thundering roar that goes up when the game is at its wildest and
+brilliant things are done!
+
+“Oh, that first bull, that day, was great!  From the moment the spirit of
+war rose to flood-tide in him and he got down to his work, he began to do
+wonders.  He tore his way through his persecutors, flinging one of them
+clear over the parapet; he bowled a horse and his rider down, and plunged
+straight for the next, got home with his horns, wounding both horse and
+man; on again, here and there and this way and that; and one after
+another he tore the bowels out of two horses so that they gushed to the
+ground, and ripped a third one so badly that although they rushed him to
+cover and shoved his bowels back and stuffed the rents with tow and rode
+him against the bull again, he couldn’t make the trip; he tried to
+gallop, under the spur, but soon reeled and tottered and fell, all in a
+heap.  For a while, that bull-ring was the most thrilling and glorious
+and inspiring sight that ever was seen.  The bull absolutely cleared it,
+and stood there alone! monarch of the place.  The people went mad for
+pride in him, and joy and delight, and you couldn’t hear yourself think,
+for the roar and boom and crash of applause.”
+
+“Antonio, it carries me clear out of myself just to hear you tell it; it
+must have been perfectly splendid.  If I live, I’ll see a bull-fight yet
+before I die.  Did they kill him?”
+
+“Oh yes; that is what the bull is for.  They tired him out, and got him
+at last.  He kept rushing the matador, who always slipped smartly and
+gracefully aside in time, waiting for a sure chance; and at last it came;
+the bull made a deadly plunge for him—was avoided neatly, and as he sped
+by, the long sword glided silently into him, between left shoulder and
+spine—in and in, to the hilt.  He crumpled down, dying.”
+
+“Ah, Antonio, it _is_ the noblest sport that ever was.  I would give a
+year of my life to see it.  Is the bull always killed?”
+
+“Yes.  Sometimes a bull is timid, finding himself in so strange a place,
+and he stands trembling, or tries to retreat.  Then everybody despises
+him for his cowardice and wants him punished and made ridiculous; so they
+hough him from behind, and it is the funniest thing in the world to see
+him hobbling around on his severed legs; the whole vast house goes into
+hurricanes of laughter over it; I have laughed till the tears ran down my
+cheeks to see it.  When he has furnished all the sport he can, he is not
+any longer useful, and is killed.”
+
+“Well, it is perfectly grand, Antonio, perfectly beautiful.  Burning a
+nigger don’t begin.”
+
+
+
+XII
+MONGREL AND THE OTHER HORSE
+
+
+“SAGE-BRUSH, you have been listening?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Isn’t it strange?”
+
+“Well, no, Mongrel, I don’t know that it is.”
+
+“Why don’t you?”
+
+“I’ve seen a good many human beings in my time.  They are created as they
+are; they cannot help it.  They are only brutal because that is their
+make; brutes would be brutal if it was _their_ make.”
+
+“To me, Sage-Brush, man is most strange and unaccountable.  Why should he
+treat dumb animals that way when they are not doing any harm?”
+
+“Man is not always like that, Mongrel; he is kind enough when he is not
+excited by religion.”
+
+“Is the bull-fight a religious service?”
+
+“I think so.  I have heard so.  It is held on Sunday.”
+
+(_A reflective pause_, _lasting some moments_.)  Then:
+
+“When we die, Sage-Brush, do we go to heaven and dwell with man?”
+
+“My father thought not.  He believed we do not have to go there unless we
+deserve it.”
+
+
+
+
+Part II
+IN SPAIN
+
+
+XIII
+GENERAL ALISON TO HIS MOTHER
+
+
+IT was a prodigious trip, but delightful, of course, through the Rockies
+and the Black Hills and the mighty sweep of the Great Plains to
+civilization and the Missouri border—where the railroading began and the
+delightfulness ended.  But no one is the worse for the journey; certainly
+not Cathy, nor Dorcas, nor Soldier Boy; and as for me, I am not
+complaining.
+
+Spain is all that Cathy had pictured it—and more, she says.  She is in a
+fury of delight, the maddest little animal that ever was, and all for
+joy.  She thinks she remembers Spain, but that is not very likely, I
+suppose.  The two—Mercedes and Cathy—devour each other.  It is a rapture
+of love, and beautiful to see.  It is Spanish; that describes it.  Will
+this be a short visit?
+
+No.  It will be permanent.  Cathy has elected to abide with Spain and her
+aunt.  Dorcas says she (Dorcas) foresaw that this would happen; and also
+says that she wanted it to happen, and says the child’s own country is
+the right place for her, and that she ought not to have been sent to me,
+I ought to have gone to her.  I thought it insane to take Soldier Boy to
+Spain, but it was well that I yielded to Cathy’s pleadings; if he had
+been left behind, half of her heart would have remained with him, and she
+would not have been contented.  As it is, everything has fallen out for
+the best, and we are all satisfied and comfortable.  It may be that
+Dorcas and I will see America again some day; but also it is a case of
+maybe not.
+
+We left the post in the early morning.  It was an affecting time.  The
+women cried over Cathy, so did even those stern warriors, the Rocky
+Mountain Rangers; Shekels was there, and the Cid, and Sardanapalus, and
+Potter, and Mongrel, and Sour-Mash, Famine, and Pestilence, and Cathy
+kissed them all and wept; details of the several arms of the garrison
+were present to represent the rest, and say good-bye and God bless you
+for all the soldiery; and there was a special squad from the Seventh,
+with the oldest veteran at its head, to speed the Seventh’s Child with
+grand honors and impressive ceremonies; and the veteran had a touching
+speech by heart, and put up his hand in salute and tried to say it, but
+his lips trembled and his voice broke, but Cathy bent down from the
+saddle and kissed him on the mouth and turned his defeat to victory, and
+a cheer went up.
+
+The next act closed the ceremonies, and was a moving surprise.  It may be
+that you have discovered, before this, that the rigors of military law
+and custom melt insensibly away and disappear when a soldier or a
+regiment or the garrison wants to do something that will please Cathy.
+The bands conceived the idea of stirring her soldierly heart with a
+farewell which would remain in her memory always, beautiful and unfading,
+and bring back the past and its love for her whenever she should think of
+it; so they got their project placed before General Burnaby, my
+successor, who is Cathy’s newest slave, and in spite of poverty of
+precedents they got his permission.  The bands knew the child’s favorite
+military airs.  By this hint you know what is coming, but Cathy didn’t.
+She was asked to sound the “reveille,” which she did.
+
+                    [Picture: Reveille [music score]]
+
+With the last note the bands burst out with a crash: and woke the
+mountains with the “Star-Spangled Banner” in a way to make a body’s heart
+swell and thump and his hair rise!  It was enough to break a person all
+up, to see Cathy’s radiant face shining out through her gladness and
+tears.  By request she blew the “assembly,” now. . . .
+
+                  [Picture: The Assembly [music score]]
+
+. . . Then the bands thundered in, with “Rally round the flag, boys,
+rally once again!”  Next, she blew another call (“to the Standard”) . . .
+
+                 [Picture: To the Standard [music score]]
+
+. . . and the bands responded with “When we were marching through
+Georgia.”  Straightway she sounded “boots and saddles,” that thrilling
+and most expediting call. . . .
+
+                [Picture: Boots and Saddles [music score]]
+
+and the bands could hardly hold in for the final note; then they turned
+their whole strength loose on “Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are
+marching,” and everybody’s excitement rose to blood-heat.
+
+Now an impressive pause—then the bugle sang “TAPS”—translatable, this
+time, into “Good-bye, and God keep us all!” for taps is the soldier’s
+nightly release from duty, and farewell: plaintive, sweet, pathetic, for
+the morning is never sure, for him; always it is possible that he is
+hearing it for the last time. . . .
+
+                      [Picture: Taps [music score]]
+
+. . . Then the bands turned their instruments towards Cathy and burst in
+with that rollicking frenzy of a tune, “Oh, we’ll all get blind drunk
+when Johnny comes marching home—yes, we’ll all get blind drunk when
+Johnny comes marching home!” and followed it instantly with “Dixie,” that
+antidote for melancholy, merriest and gladdest of all military music on
+any side of the ocean—and that was the end.  And so—farewell!
+
+I wish you could have been there to see it all, hear it all, and feel it:
+and get yourself blown away with the hurricane huzza that swept the place
+as a finish.
+
+When we rode away, our main body had already been on the road an hour or
+two—I speak of our camp equipage; but we didn’t move off alone: when
+Cathy blew the “advance” the Rangers cantered out in column of fours, and
+gave us escort, and were joined by White Cloud and Thunder-Bird in all
+their gaudy bravery, and by Buffalo Bill and four subordinate scouts.
+Three miles away, in the Plains, the Lieutenant-General halted, sat her
+horse like a military statue, the bugle at her lips, and put the Rangers
+through the evolutions for half an hour; and finally, when she blew the
+“charge,” she led it herself.  “Not for the last time,” she said, and got
+a cheer, and we said good-bye all around, and faced eastward and rode
+away.
+
+_Postscript_.  _A Day Later_.  Soldier Boy was stolen last night.  Cathy
+is almost beside herself, and we cannot comfort her.  Mercedes and I are
+not much alarmed about the horse, although this part of Spain is in
+something of a turmoil, politically, at present, and there is a good deal
+of lawlessness.  In ordinary times the thief and the horse would soon be
+captured.  We shall have them before long, I think.
+
+
+
+XIV
+SOLDIER BOY—TO HIMSELF
+
+
+IT is five months.  Or is it six?  My troubles have clouded my memory.  I
+have been all over this land, from end to end, and now I am back again
+since day before yesterday, to that city which we passed through, that
+last day of our long journey, and which is near her country home.  I am a
+tottering ruin and my eyes are dim, but I recognized it.  If she could
+see me she would know me and sound my call.  I wish I could hear it once
+more; it would revive me, it would bring back her face and the mountains
+and the free life, and I would come—if I were dying I would come!  She
+would not know _me_, looking as I do, but she would know me by my star.
+But she will never see me, for they do not let me out of this shabby
+stable—a foul and miserable place, with most two wrecks like myself for
+company.
+
+How many times have I changed hands?  I think it is twelve times—I cannot
+remember; and each time it was down a step lower, and each time I got a
+harder master.  They have been cruel, every one; they have worked me
+night and day in degraded employments, and beaten me; they have fed me
+ill, and some days not at all.  And so I am but bones, now, with a rough
+and frowsy skin humped and cornered upon my shrunken body—that skin which
+was once so glossy, that skin which she loved to stroke with her hand.  I
+was the pride of the mountains and the Great Plains; now I am a scarecrow
+and despised.  These piteous wrecks that are my comrades here say we have
+reached the bottom of the scale, the final humiliation; they say that
+when a horse is no longer worth the weeds and discarded rubbish they feed
+to him, they sell him to the bull-ring for a glass of brandy, to make
+sport for the people and perish for their pleasure.
+
+To die—that does not disturb me; we of the service never care for death.
+But if I could see her once more! if I could hear her bugle sing again
+and say, “It is I, Soldier—come!”
+
+
+
+XV
+GENERAL ALISON TO MRS. DRAKE, THE COLONEL’S WIFE
+
+
+TO return, now, to where I was, and tell you the rest.  We shall never
+know how she came to be there; there is no way to account for it.  She
+was always watching for black and shiny and spirited horses—watching,
+hoping, despairing, hoping again; always giving chase and sounding her
+call, upon the meagrest chance of a response, and breaking her heart over
+the disappointment; always inquiring, always interested in sales-stables
+and horse accumulations in general.  How she got there must remain a
+mystery.
+
+At the point which I had reached in a preceding paragraph of this
+account, the situation was as follows: two horses lay dying; the bull had
+scattered his persecutors for the moment, and stood raging, panting,
+pawing the dust in clouds over his back, when the man that had been
+wounded returned to the ring on a remount, a poor blindfolded wreck that
+yet had something ironically military about his bearing—and the next
+moment the bull had ripped him open and his bowls were dragging upon the
+ground: and the bull was charging his swarm of pests again.  Then came
+pealing through the air a bugle-call that froze my blood—“_It is I_,
+_Soldier—come_!”  I turned; Cathy was flying down through the massed
+people; she cleared the parapet at a bound, and sped towards that
+riderless horse, who staggered forward towards the remembered sound; but
+his strength failed, and he fell at her feet, she lavishing kisses upon
+him and sobbing, the house rising with one impulse, and white with
+horror!  Before help could reach her the bull was back again—
+
+         [Picture: His strength failed, and he fell at her feet]
+
+She was never conscious again in life.  We bore her home, all mangled and
+drenched in blood, and knelt by her and listened to her broken and
+wandering words, and prayed for her passing spirit, and there was no
+comfort—nor ever will be, I think.  But she was happy, for she was far
+away under another sky, and comrading again with her Rangers, and her
+animal friends, and the soldiers.  Their names fell softly and
+caressingly from her lips, one by one, with pauses between.  She was not
+in pain, but lay with closed eyes, vacantly murmuring, as one who dreams.
+Sometimes she smiled, saying nothing; sometimes she smiled when she
+uttered a name—such as Shekels, or BB, or Potter.  Sometimes she was at
+her fort, issuing commands; sometimes she was careering over the plain at
+the head of her men; sometimes she was training her horse; once she said,
+reprovingly, “You are giving me the wrong foot; give me the left—don’t
+you know it is good-bye?”
+
+After this, she lay silent some time; the end was near.  By-and-by she
+murmured, “Tired . . . sleepy . . . take Cathy, mamma.”  Then, “Kiss me,
+Soldier.”  For a little time, she lay so still that we were doubtful if
+she breathed.  Then she put out her hand and began to feel gropingly
+about; then said, “I cannot find it; blow ‘taps.’”  It was the end.
+
+                      [Picture: Taps [music score]]
+
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES
+
+
+{80}  At West Point the bugle is supposed to be saying:
+
+    “I can’t get ’em up,
+    I can’t get ’em up,
+    I can’t get ’em up in the morning!”
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1086 ***
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+<img alt="Book cover"
+title="Book cover"
+ src="images/covers.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a name="fpb" href="images/fpb.jpg">
+<img alt="&ldquo;Buffalo Bill took me on Soldier Boy to
+Thunder-Bird&rsquo;s Camp&rdquo;"
+title="&ldquo;Buffalo Bill took me on Soldier Boy to
+Thunder-Bird&rsquo;s Camp&rdquo;"
+ src="images/fps.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<h1>A Horse&rsquo;s Tale</h1>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">
+<span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br />
+Mark Twain</h2>
+
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">ILLUSTRATED
+BY</span><br />
+<span class="GutSmall">LUCIUS HITCHCOCK</span></p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/tpb.jpg">
+<img alt="Decorative graphic"
+title="Decorative graphic"
+ src="images/tps.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p style="text-align: center">LONDON AND NEW YORK<br />
+HARPER &amp; BROTHERS<br />
+PUBLISHERS .. MCMVII</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span
+class="GutSmall">Copyright, 1906, by Harper &amp;
+Brothers.</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="GutSmall"><i>All
+rights reserved</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="GutSmall">Published
+October, 1907.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Printed in United States of
+America</i>.</p>
+
+<h2>Contents</h2>
+
+<table summary="" style="">
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page1">Chapter I. <span class="smcap">Soldier Boy&mdash;Privately to Himself</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page12">Chapter II. <span class="smcap">Letter from Rouen&mdash;To General Alison</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page19">Chapter III. <span class="smcap">General Alison to his Mother</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page25">Chapter IV. <span class="smcap">Cathy to her Aunt Mercedes</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page33">Chapter V. <span class="smcap">General Alison to Mercedes</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page56">Chapter VI. <span class="smcap">Soldier Boy and the Mexican Plug</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page82">Chapter VII. <span class="smcap">Soldier Boy and Shekels</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page88">Chapter VIII. <span class="smcap">The Scout-start. BB and Lieutenant-General Alison</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page90">Chapter IX. <span class="smcap">Soldier Boy and Shekels Again</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page100">Chapter X. <span class="smcap">General Alison and Dorcas</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page116">Chapter XI. <span class="smcap">Several Months Later. Antonio and Thorndike</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page129">Chapter XII. <span class="smcap">Mongrel and the Other Horse</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page133">Chapter XIII. <span class="smcap">General Alison to his Mother</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page145">Chapter XIV. <span class="smcap">Soldier Boy&mdash;To Himself</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page149">Chapter XV. <span class="smcap">General Alison to Mrs. Drake, the Colonel&rsquo;s Wife</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<h2>Illustrations</h2>
+
+<table summary="" style="">
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#fpb">&ldquo;Buffalo Bill took me on Soldier Boy to Thunder-Bird&rsquo;s Camp&rdquo;</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#image48">&ldquo;Look at that file of cats in your chair&rdquo;</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#image66">&ldquo;Every morning they go clattering down into the plain&rdquo;</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#image92">&ldquo;There was nothing to do but stand by&rdquo;</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#image150">&ldquo;His strength failed and he fell at her feet&rdquo;</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>Acknowledgements</h2>
+
+<p>Although I have had several opportunities to see a bull-fight,
+I have never seen one; but I needed a bull-fight in this book,
+and a trustworthy one will be found in it. I got it out of
+John Hay&rsquo;s <i>Castilian Days</i>, reducing and condensing
+it to fit the requirements of this small story. Mr. Hay and
+I were friends from early times, and if he were still with us he
+would not rebuke me for the liberty I have taken.</p>
+
+<p>The knowledge of military minuti&aelig; exhibited in this book
+will be found to be correct, but it is not mine; I took it from
+<i>Army Regulations</i>, ed. 1904; <i>Hardy&rsquo;s
+Tactics</i>&mdash;<i>Cavalry</i>, revised ed., 1861; and
+<i>Jomini&rsquo;s Handbook of Military Etiquette</i>, West Point
+ed., 1905.</p>
+
+<p>It would not be honest in me to encourage by silence the
+inference that I composed the Horse&rsquo;s private bugle-call,
+for I did not. I lifted it, as Aristotle says. It is
+the opening strain in <i>The Pizzicato</i> in <i>Sylvia</i>, by
+Delibes. When that master was composing it he did not know
+it was a bugle-call, it was I that found it out.</p>
+
+<p>Along through the book I have distributed a few anachronisms
+and unborn historical incidents and such things, so as to help
+the tale over the difficult places. This idea is not
+original with me; I got it out of Herodotus. Herodotus
+says, &ldquo;Very few things happen at the right time, and the
+rest do not happen at all: the conscientious historian will
+correct these defects.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The cats in the chair do not belong to me, but to another.</p>
+
+<p>These are all the exceptions. What is left of the book
+is mine.</p>
+
+<p style="text-align: right">MARK TWAIN.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lone Tree Hill</span>, <span
+class="smcap">Dublin</span>,<br />
+<span class="smcap">New Hampshire</span>, <i>October</i>,
+1905.</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>Part I</h2>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page1"></a>I<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">SOLDIER BOY&mdash;PRIVATELY TO
+HIMSELF</span></h2>
+
+<p>I <span class="smcap">am</span> Buffalo Bill&rsquo;s
+horse. I have spent my life under his saddle&mdash;with him
+in it, too, and he is good for two hundred pounds, without his
+clothes; and there is no telling how much he does weigh when he
+is out on the war-path and has his batteries belted on. He
+is over six feet, is young, hasn&rsquo;t an ounce of waste flesh,
+is straight, graceful, springy in his motions, quick as a cat,
+and has a handsome face, and black hair dangling down on his
+shoulders, and is beautiful to look at; and nobody is braver than
+he is, and nobody is stronger, except myself. Yes, a person
+that doubts that he is fine to see should see him in his beaded
+buck-skins, on my back and his rifle peeping above his shoulder,
+chasing a hostile trail, with me going like the wind and his hair
+streaming out behind from the shelter of his broad slouch.
+Yes, he is a sight to look at then&mdash;and I&rsquo;m part of it
+myself.</p>
+
+<p>I am his favorite horse, out of dozens. Big as he is, I
+have carried him eighty-one miles between nightfall and sunrise
+on the scout; and I am good for fifty, day in and day out, and
+all the time. I am not large, but I am built on a business
+basis. I have carried him thousands and thousands of miles
+on scout duty for the army, and there&rsquo;s not a gorge, nor a
+pass, nor a valley, nor a fort, nor a trading post, nor a
+buffalo-range in the whole sweep of the Rocky Mountains and the
+Great Plains that we don&rsquo;t know as well as we know the
+bugle-calls. He is Chief of Scouts to the Army of the
+Frontier, and it makes us very important. In such a
+position as I hold in the military service one needs to be of
+good family and possess an education much above the common to be
+worthy of the place. I am the best-educated horse outside
+of the hippodrome, everybody says, and the best-mannered.
+It may be so, it is not for me to say; modesty is the best
+policy, I think. Buffalo Bill taught me the most of what I
+know, my mother taught me much, and I taught myself the
+rest. Lay a row of moccasins before me&mdash;Pawnee, Sioux,
+Shoshone, Cheyenne, Blackfoot, and as many other tribes as you
+please&mdash;and I can name the tribe every moccasin belongs to
+by the make of it. Name it in horse-talk, and could do it
+in American if I had speech.</p>
+
+<p>I know some of the Indian signs&mdash;the signs they make with
+their hands, and by signal-fires at night and columns of smoke by
+day. Buffalo Bill taught me how to drag wounded soldiers
+out of the line of fire with my teeth; and I&rsquo;ve done it,
+too; at least I&rsquo;ve dragged <i>him</i> out of the battle
+when he was wounded. And not just once, but twice.
+Yes, I know a lot of things. I remember forms, and gaits,
+and faces; and you can&rsquo;t disguise a person that&rsquo;s
+done me a kindness so that I won&rsquo;t know him thereafter
+wherever I find him. I know the art of searching for a
+trail, and I know the stale track from the fresh. I can
+keep a trail all by myself, with Buffalo Bill asleep in the
+saddle; ask him&mdash;he will tell you so. Many a time,
+when he has ridden all night, he has said to me at dawn,
+&ldquo;Take the watch, Boy; if the trail freshens, call
+me.&rdquo; Then he goes to sleep. He knows he can
+trust me, because I have a reputation. A scout horse that
+has a reputation does not play with it.</p>
+
+<p>My mother was all American&mdash;no alkali-spider about
+<i>her</i>, I can tell you; she was of the best blood of
+Kentucky, the bluest Blue-grass aristocracy, very proud and
+acrimonious&mdash;or maybe it is ceremonious. I don&rsquo;t
+know which it is. But it is no matter; size is the main
+thing about a word, and that one&rsquo;s up to standard.
+She spent her military life as colonel of the Tenth Dragoons, and
+saw a deal of rough service&mdash;distinguished service it was,
+too. I mean, she <i>carried</i> the Colonel; but it&rsquo;s
+all the same. Where would he be without his horse? He
+wouldn&rsquo;t arrive. It takes two to make a colonel of
+dragoons. She was a fine dragoon horse, but never got above
+that. She was strong enough for the scout service, and had
+the endurance, too, but she couldn&rsquo;t quite come up to the
+speed required; a scout horse has to have steel in his muscle and
+lightning in his blood.</p>
+
+<p>My father was a bronco. Nothing as to lineage&mdash;that
+is, nothing as to recent lineage&mdash;but plenty good enough
+when you go a good way back. When Professor Marsh was out
+here hunting bones for the chapel of Yale University he found
+skeletons of horses no bigger than a fox, bedded in the rocks,
+and he said they were ancestors of my father. My mother
+heard him say it; and he said those skeletons were two million
+years old, which astonished her and made her Kentucky pretensions
+look small and pretty antiphonal, not to say oblique. Let
+me see. . . . I used to know the meaning of those words, but . .
+. well, it was years ago, and &rsquo;tisn&rsquo;t as vivid now as
+it was when they were fresh. That sort of words
+doesn&rsquo;t keep, in the kind of climate we have out
+here. Professor Marsh said those skeletons were
+fossils. So that makes me part blue grass and part fossil;
+if there is any older or better stock, you will have to look for
+it among the Four Hundred, I reckon. I am satisfied with
+it. And am a happy horse, too, though born out of
+wedlock.</p>
+
+<p>And now we are back at Fort Paxton once more, after a
+forty-day scout, away up as far as the Big Horn. Everything
+quiet. Crows and Blackfeet squabbling&mdash;as
+usual&mdash;but no outbreaks, and settlers feeling fairly
+easy.</p>
+
+<p>The Seventh Cavalry still in garrison, here; also the Ninth
+Dragoons, two artillery companies, and some infantry. All
+glad to see me, including General Alison, commandant. The
+officers&rsquo; ladies and children well, and called upon
+me&mdash;with sugar. Colonel Drake, Seventh Cavalry, said
+some pleasant things; Mrs. Drake was very complimentary; also
+Captain and Mrs. Marsh, Company B, Seventh Cavalry; also the
+Chaplain, who is always kind and pleasant to me, because I kicked
+the lungs out of a trader once. It was Tommy Drake and
+Fanny Marsh that furnished the sugar&mdash;nice children, the
+nicest at the post, I think.</p>
+
+<p>That poor orphan child is on her way from
+France&mdash;everybody is full of the subject. Her father
+was General Alison&rsquo;s brother; married a beautiful young
+Spanish lady ten years ago, and has never been in America
+since. They lived in Spain a year or two, then went to
+France. Both died some months ago. This little girl
+that is coming is the only child. General Alison is glad to
+have her. He has never seen her. He is a very nice
+old bachelor, but is an old bachelor just the same and
+isn&rsquo;t more than about a year this side of retirement by age
+limit; and so what does he know about taking care of a little
+maid nine years old? If I could have her it would be
+another matter, for I know all about children, and they adore
+me. Buffalo Bill will tell you so himself.</p>
+
+<p>I have some of this news from over-hearing the
+garrison-gossip, the rest of it I got from Potter, the
+General&rsquo;s dog. Potter is the great Dane. He is
+privileged, all over the post, like Shekels, the Seventh
+Cavalry&rsquo;s dog, and visits everybody&rsquo;s quarters and
+picks up everything that is going, in the way of news.
+Potter has no imagination, and no great deal of culture, perhaps,
+but he has a historical mind and a good memory, and so he is the
+person I depend upon mainly to post me up when I get back from a
+scout. That is, if Shekels is out on depredation and I
+can&rsquo;t get hold of him.</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page12"></a>II<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">LETTER FROM ROUEN&mdash;TO GENERAL
+ALISON</span></h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap"><i>My</i></span><i> dear
+Brother-in-Law</i>,&mdash;Please let me write again in Spanish, I
+cannot trust my English, and I am aware, from what your brother
+used to say, that army officers educated at the Military Academy
+of the United States are taught our tongue. It is as I told
+you in my other letter: both my poor sister and her husband, when
+they found they could not recover, expressed the wish that you
+should have their little Catherine&mdash;as knowing that you
+would presently be retired from the army&mdash;rather than that
+she should remain with me, who am broken in health, or go to your
+mother in California, whose health is also frail.</p>
+
+<p>You do not know the child, therefore I must tell you something
+about her. You will not be ashamed of her looks, for she is
+a copy in little of her beautiful mother&mdash;and it is that
+Andalusian beauty which is not surpassable, even in your
+country. She has her mother&rsquo;s charm and grace and
+good heart and sense of justice, and she has her father&rsquo;s
+vivacity and cheerfulness and pluck and spirit of enterprise,
+with the affectionate disposition and sincerity of both
+parents.</p>
+
+<p>My sister pined for her Spanish home all these years of exile;
+she was always talking of Spain to the child, and tending and
+nourishing the love of Spain in the little thing&rsquo;s heart as
+a precious flower; and she died happy in the knowledge that the
+fruitage of her patriotic labors was as rich as even she could
+desire.</p>
+
+<p>Cathy is a sufficiently good little scholar, for her nine
+years; her mother taught her Spanish herself, and kept it always
+fresh upon her ear and her tongue by hardly ever speaking with
+her in any other tongue; her father was her English teacher, and
+talked with her in that language almost exclusively; French has
+been her everyday speech for more than seven years among her
+playmates here; she has a good working use of
+governess&mdash;German and Italian. It is true that there
+is always a faint foreign fragrance about her speech, no matter
+what language she is talking, but it is only just noticeable,
+nothing more, and is rather a charm than a mar, I think. In
+the ordinary child-studies Cathy is neither before nor behind the
+average child of nine, I should say. But I can say this for
+her: in love for her friends and in high-mindedness and
+good-heartedness she has not many equals, and in my opinion no
+superiors. And I beg of you, let her have her way with the
+dumb animals&mdash;they are her worship. It is an
+inheritance from her mother. She knows but little of
+cruelties and oppressions&mdash;keep them from her sight if you
+can. She would flare up at them and make trouble, in her
+small but quite decided and resolute way; for she has a character
+of her own, and lacks neither promptness nor initiative.
+Sometimes her judgment is at fault, but I think her intentions
+are always right. Once when she was a little creature of
+three or four years she suddenly brought her tiny foot down upon
+the floor in an apparent outbreak of indignation, then fetched it
+a backward wipe, and stooped down to examine the result.
+Her mother said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, what is it, child? What has stirred you
+so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mamma, the big ant was trying to kill the little
+one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And so you protected the little one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, mamma, because he had no friend, and I
+wouldn&rsquo;t let the big one kill him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you have killed them both.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Cathy was distressed, and her lip trembled. She picked
+up the remains and laid them upon her palm, and said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor little anty, I&rsquo;m so sorry; and I
+didn&rsquo;t mean to kill you, but there wasn&rsquo;t any other
+way to save you, it was such a hurry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She is a dear and sweet little lady, and when she goes it will
+give me a sore heart. But she will be happy with you, and
+if your heart is old and tired, give it into her keeping; she
+will make it young again, she will refresh it, she will make it
+sing. Be good to her, for all our sakes!</p>
+
+<p>My exile will soon be over now. As soon as I am a little
+stronger I shall see my Spain again; and that will make me young
+again!</p>
+
+<p style="text-align: right"><span
+class="smcap">Mercedes</span>.</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page19"></a>III<br
+/>
+<span class="GutSmall">GENERAL ALISON TO HIS MOTHER</span></h2>
+
+<p>I <span class="smcap">am</span> glad to know that you are all
+well, in San Bernardino.</p>
+
+<p>. . . That grandchild of yours has been here&mdash;well, I do
+not quite know how many days it is; nobody can keep account of
+days or anything else where she is! Mother, she did what
+the Indians were never able to do. She took the
+Fort&mdash;took it the first day! Took me, too; took the
+colonels, the captains, the women, the children, and the dumb
+brutes; took Buffalo Bill, and all his scouts; took the
+garrison&mdash;to the last man; and in forty-eight hours the
+Indian encampment was hers, illustrious old Thunder-Bird and
+all. Do I seem to have lost my solemnity, my gravity, my
+poise, my dignity? You would lose your own, in my
+circumstances. Mother, you never saw such a winning little
+devil. She is all energy, and spirit, and sunshine, and
+interest in everybody and everything, and pours out her prodigal
+love upon every creature that will take it, high or low,
+Christian or pagan, feathered or furred; and none has declined it
+to date, and none ever will, I think. But she has a temper,
+and sometimes it catches fire and flames up, and is likely to
+burn whatever is near it; but it is soon over, the passion goes
+as quickly as it comes. Of course she has an Indian name
+already; Indians always rechristen a stranger early.
+Thunder-Bird attended to her case. He gave her the Indian
+equivalent for firebug, or fire-fly. He said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;Times, ver&rsquo; quiet, ver&rsquo; soft, like
+summer night, but when she mad she blaze.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isn&rsquo;t it good? Can&rsquo;t you see the
+flare? She&rsquo;s beautiful, mother, beautiful as a
+picture; and there is a touch of you in her face, and of her
+father&mdash;poor George! and in her unresting activities, and
+her fearless ways, and her sunbursts and cloudbursts, she is
+always bringing George back to me. These impulsive natures
+are dramatic. George was dramatic, so is this
+Lightning-Bug, so is Buffalo Bill. When Cathy first
+arrived&mdash;it was in the forenoon&mdash;Buffalo Bill was away,
+carrying orders to Major Fuller, at Five Forks, up in the Clayton
+Hills. At mid-afternoon I was at my desk, trying to work,
+and this sprite had been making it impossible for half an
+hour. At last I said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you bewitching little scamp, <i>can&rsquo;t</i> you
+be quiet just a minute or two, and let your poor old uncle attend
+to a part of his duties?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll try, uncle; I will, indeed,&rdquo; she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, that&rsquo;s a good child&mdash;kiss
+me. Now, then, sit up in that chair, and set your eye on
+that clock. There&mdash;that&rsquo;s right. If you
+stir&mdash;if you so much as wink&mdash;for four whole minutes,
+I&rsquo;ll bite you!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was very sweet and humble and obedient she looked, sitting
+there, still as a mouse; I could hardly keep from setting her
+free and telling her to make as much racket as she wanted
+to. During as much as two minutes there was a most
+unnatural and heavenly quiet and repose, then Buffalo Bill came
+thundering up to the door in all his scout finery, flung himself
+out of the saddle, said to his horse, &ldquo;Wait for me,
+Boy,&rdquo; and stepped in, and stopped dead in his
+tracks&mdash;gazing at the child. She forgot orders, and
+was on the floor in a moment, saying:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you are so beautiful! Do you like
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I don&rsquo;t, I love you!&rdquo; and he gathered
+her up with a hug, and then set her on his
+shoulder&mdash;apparently nine feet from the floor.</p>
+
+<p>She was at home. She played with his long hair, and
+admired his big hands and his clothes and his carbine, and asked
+question after question, as fast as he could answer, until I
+excused them both for half an hour, in order to have a chance to
+finish my work. Then I heard Cathy exclaiming over Soldier
+Boy; and he was worthy of her raptures, for he is a wonder of a
+horse, and has a reputation which is as shining as his own silken
+hide.</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page25"></a>IV<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">CATHY TO HER AUNT MERCEDES</span></h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Oh</span>, it is wonderful here, aunty
+dear, just paradise! Oh, if you could only see it!
+everything so wild and lovely; such grand plains, stretching such
+miles and miles and miles, all the most delicious velvety sand
+and sage-brush, and rabbits as big as a dog, and such tall and
+noble jackassful ears that that is what they name them by; and
+such vast mountains, and so rugged and craggy and lofty, with
+cloud-shawls wrapped around their shoulders, and looking so
+solemn and awful and satisfied; and the charming Indians, oh, how
+you would dote on them, aunty dear, and they would on you, too,
+and they would let you hold their babies, the way they do me, and
+they <i>are</i> the fattest, and brownest, and sweetest little
+things, and never cry, and wouldn&rsquo;t if they had pins
+sticking in them, which they haven&rsquo;t, because they are poor
+and can&rsquo;t afford it; and the horses and mules and cattle
+and dogs&mdash;hundreds and hundreds and hundreds, and not an
+animal that you can&rsquo;t do what you please with, except uncle
+Thomas, but <i>I</i> don&rsquo;t mind him, he&rsquo;s lovely; and
+oh, if you could hear the bugles:
+<i>too&mdash;too&mdash;too-too&mdash;too&mdash;too</i>, and so
+on&mdash;perfectly beautiful! Do you recognize that
+one? It&rsquo;s the first toots of the <i>reveille</i>; it
+goes, dear me, <i>so</i> early in the morning!&mdash;then I and
+every other soldier on the whole place are up and out in a
+minute, except uncle Thomas, who is most unaccountably lazy, I
+don&rsquo;t know why, but I have talked to him about it, and I
+reckon it will be better, now. He hasn&rsquo;t any faults
+much, and is charming and sweet, like Buffalo Bill, and
+Thunder-Bird, and Mammy Dorcas, and Soldier Boy, and Shekels, and
+Potter, and Sour-Mash, and&mdash;well, they&rsquo;re <i>all</i>
+that, just angels, as you may say.</p>
+
+<p>The very first day I came, I don&rsquo;t know how long ago it
+was, Buffalo Bill took me on Soldier Boy to Thunder-Bird&rsquo;s
+camp, not the big one which is out on the plain, which is White
+Cloud&rsquo;s, he took me to <i>that</i> one next day, but this
+one is four or five miles up in the hills and crags, where there
+is a great shut-in meadow, full of Indian lodges and dogs and
+squaws and everything that is interesting, and a brook of the
+clearest water running through it, with white pebbles on the
+bottom and trees all along the banks cool and shady and good to
+wade in, and as the sun goes down it is dimmish in there, but
+away up against the sky you see the big peaks towering up and
+shining bright and vivid in the sun, and sometimes an eagle
+sailing by them, not flapping a wing, the same as if he was
+asleep; and young Indians and girls romping and laughing and
+carrying on, around the spring and the pool, and not much clothes
+on except the girls, and dogs fighting, and the squaws busy at
+work, and the bucks busy resting, and the old men sitting in a
+bunch smoking, and passing the pipe not to the left but to the
+right, which means there&rsquo;s been a row in the camp and they
+are settling it if they can, and children playing <i>just</i> the
+same as any other children, and little boys shooting at a mark
+with bows, and I cuffed one of them because he hit a dog with a
+club that wasn&rsquo;t doing anything, and he resented it but
+before long he wished he hadn&rsquo;t: but this sentence is
+getting too long and I will start another. Thunder-Bird put
+on his Sunday-best war outfit to let me see him, and he was
+splendid to look at, with his face painted red and bright and
+intense like a fire-coal and a valance of eagle feathers from the
+top of his head all down his back, and he had his tomahawk, too,
+and his pipe, which has a stem which is longer than my arm, and I
+never had such a good time in an Indian camp in my life, and I
+learned a lot of words of the language, and next day BB took me
+to the camp out on the Plains, four miles, and I had another good
+time and got acquainted with some more Indians and dogs; and the
+big chief, by the name of White Cloud, gave me a pretty little
+bow and arrows and I gave him my red sash-ribbon, and in four
+days I could shoot very well with it and beat any white boy of my
+size at the post; and I have been to those camps plenty of times
+since; and I have learned to ride, too, BB taught me, and every
+day he practises me and praises me, and every time I do better
+than ever he lets me have a scamper on Soldier Boy, and
+<i>that&rsquo;s</i> the last agony of pleasure! for he is the
+charmingest horse, and so beautiful and shiny and black, and
+hasn&rsquo;t another color on him anywhere, except a white star
+in his forehead, not just an imitation star, but a real one, with
+four points, shaped exactly like a star that&rsquo;s hand-made,
+and if you should cover him all up but his star you would know
+him anywhere, even in Jerusalem or Australia, by that. And
+I got acquainted with a good many of the Seventh Cavalry, and the
+dragoons, and officers, and families, and horses, in the first
+few days, and some more in the next few and the next few and the
+next few, and now I know more soldiers and horses than you can
+think, no matter how hard you try. I am keeping up my
+studies every now and then, but there isn&rsquo;t much time for
+it. I love you so! and I send you a hug and a kiss.</p>
+
+<p style="text-align: right"><span
+class="smcap">Cathy</span>.</p>
+
+<p>P.S.&mdash;I belong to the Seventh Cavalry and Ninth Dragoons,
+I am an officer, too, and do not have to work on account of not
+getting any wages.</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page33"></a>>V<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">GENERAL ALISON TO MERCEDES</span></h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">She</span> has been with us a good nice
+long time, now. You are troubled about your sprite because
+this is such a wild frontier, hundreds of miles from
+civilization, and peopled only by wandering tribes of
+savages? You fear for her safety? Give yourself no
+uneasiness about her. Dear me, she&rsquo;s in a nursery!
+and she&rsquo;s got more than eighteen hundred nurses. It
+would distress the garrison to suspect that you think they
+can&rsquo;t take care of her. They think they can.
+They would tell you so themselves. You see, the Seventh
+Cavalry has never had a child of its very own before, and neither
+has the Ninth Dragoons; and so they are like all new mothers,
+they think there is no other child like theirs, no other child so
+wonderful, none that is so worthy to be faithfully and tenderly
+looked after and protected. These bronzed veterans of mine
+are very good mothers, I think, and wiser than some other
+mothers; for they let her take lots of risks, and it is a good
+education for her; and the more risks she takes and comes
+successfully out of, the prouder they are of her. They
+adopted her, with grave and formal military ceremonies of their
+own invention&mdash;solemnities is the truer word; solemnities
+that were so profoundly solemn and earnest, that the spectacle
+would have been comical if it hadn&rsquo;t been so
+touching. It was a good show, and as stately and complex as
+guard-mount and the trooping of the colors; and it had its own
+special music, composed for the occasion by the bandmaster of the
+Seventh; and the child was as serious as the most serious
+war-worn soldier of them all; and finally when they throned her
+upon the shoulder of the oldest veteran, and pronounced her
+&ldquo;well and truly adopted,&rdquo; and the bands struck up and
+all saluted and she saluted in return, it was better and more
+moving than any kindred thing I have seen on the stage, because
+stage things are make-believe, but this was real and the
+players&rsquo; hearts were in it.</p>
+
+<p>It happened several weeks ago, and was followed by some
+additional solemnities. The men created a couple of new
+ranks, thitherto unknown to the army regulations, and conferred
+them upon Cathy, with ceremonies suitable to a duke. So now
+she is Corporal-General of the Seventh Cavalry, and
+Flag-Lieutenant of the Ninth Dragoons, with the privilege
+(decreed by the men) of writing U.S.A. after her name!
+Also, they presented her a pair of shoulder-straps&mdash;both
+dark blue, the one with F. L. on it, the other with C. G.
+Also, a sword. She wears them. Finally, they granted
+her the <i>salute</i>. I am witness that that ceremony is
+faithfully observed by both parties&mdash;and most gravely and
+decorously, too. I have never seen a soldier smile yet,
+while delivering it, nor Cathy in returning it.</p>
+
+<p>Ostensibly I was not present at these proceedings, and am
+ignorant of them; but I was where I could see. I was afraid
+of one thing&mdash;the jealousy of the other children of the
+post; but there is nothing of that, I am glad to say. On
+the contrary, they are proud of their comrade and her
+honors. It is a surprising thing, but it is true. The
+children are devoted to Cathy, for she has turned their dull
+frontier life into a sort of continuous festival; also they know
+her for a stanch and steady friend, a friend who can always be
+depended upon, and does not change with the weather.</p>
+
+<p>She has become a rather extraordinary rider, under the
+tutorship of a more than extraordinary teacher&mdash;BB, which is
+her pet name for Buffalo Bill. She pronounces it
+<i>beeby</i>. He has not only taught her seventeen ways of
+breaking her neck, but twenty-two ways of avoiding it. He
+has infused into her the best and surest protection of a
+horseman&mdash;<i>confidence</i>. He did it gradually,
+systematically, little by little, a step at a time, and each step
+made sure before the next was essayed. And so he inched her
+along up through terrors that had been discounted by training
+before she reached them, and therefore were not recognizable as
+terrors when she got to them. Well, she is a daring little
+rider, now, and is perfect in what she knows of
+horsemanship. By-and-by she will know the art like a West
+Point cadet, and will exercise it as fearlessly. She
+doesn&rsquo;t know anything about side-saddles. Does that
+distress you? And she is a fine performer, without any
+saddle at all. Does that discomfort you? Do not let
+it; she is not in any danger, I give you my word.</p>
+
+<p>You said that if my heart was old and tired she would refresh
+it, and you said truly. I do not know how I got along
+without her, before. I was a forlorn old tree, but now that
+this blossoming vine has wound itself about me and become the
+life of my life, it is very different. As a furnisher of
+business for me and for Mammy Dorcas she is exhaustlessly
+competent, but I like my share of it and of course Dorcas likes
+hers, for Dorcas &ldquo;raised&rdquo; George, and Cathy is George
+over again in so many ways that she brings back Dorcas&rsquo;s
+youth and the joys of that long-vanished time. My father
+tried to set Dorcas free twenty years ago, when we still lived in
+Virginia, but without success; she considered herself a member of
+the family, and wouldn&rsquo;t go. And so, a member of the
+family she remained, and has held that position unchallenged ever
+since, and holds it now; for when my mother sent her here from
+San Bernardino when we learned that Cathy was coming, she only
+changed from one division of the family to the other. She
+has the warm heart of her race, and its lavish affections, and
+when Cathy arrived the pair were mother and child in five
+minutes, and that is what they are to date and will
+continue. Dorcas really thinks she raised George, and that
+is one of her prides, but perhaps it was a mutual raising, for
+their ages were the same&mdash;thirteen years short of
+mine. But they were playmates, at any rate; as regards
+that, there is no room for dispute.</p>
+
+<p>Cathy thinks Dorcas is the best Catholic in America except
+herself. She could not pay any one a higher compliment than
+that, and Dorcas could not receive one that would please her
+better. Dorcas is satisfied that there has never been a
+more wonderful child than Cathy. She has conceived the
+curious idea that Cathy is <i>twins</i>, and that one of them is
+a boy-twin and failed to get segregated&mdash;got submerged, is
+the idea. To argue with her that this is nonsense is a
+waste of breath&mdash;her mind is made up, and arguments do not
+affect it. She says:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look at her; she loves dolls, and girl-plays, and
+everything a girl loves, and she&rsquo;s gentle and sweet, and
+ain&rsquo;t cruel to dumb brutes&mdash;now that&rsquo;s the
+girl-twin, but she loves boy-plays, and drums and fifes and
+soldiering, and rough-riding, and ain&rsquo;t afraid of anybody
+or anything&mdash;and that&rsquo;s the boy-twin; &rsquo;deed you
+needn&rsquo;t tell <i>me</i> she&rsquo;s only <i>one</i> child;
+no, sir, she&rsquo;s twins, and one of them got shet up out of
+sight. Out of sight, but that don&rsquo;t make any
+difference, that boy is in there, and you can see him look out of
+her eyes when her temper is up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Dorcas went on, in her simple and earnest way, to furnish
+illustrations.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look at that raven, Marse Tom. Would anybody
+befriend a raven but that child? Of course they
+wouldn&rsquo;t; it ain&rsquo;t natural. Well, the Injun boy
+had the raven tied up, and was all the time plaguing it and
+starving it, and she pitied the po&rsquo; thing, and tried to buy
+it from the boy, and the tears was in her eyes. That was
+the girl-twin, you see. She offered him her thimble, and he
+flung it down; she offered him all the doughnuts she had, which
+was two, and he flung them down; she offered him half a paper of
+pins, worth forty ravens, and he made a mouth at her and jabbed
+one of them in the raven&rsquo;s back. That was the limit,
+you know. It called for the other twin. Her eyes
+blazed up, and she jumped for him like a wild-cat, and when she
+was done with him she was rags and he wasn&rsquo;t anything but
+an allegory. That was most undoubtedly the other twin, you
+see, coming to the front. No, sir; don&rsquo;t tell
+<i>me</i> he ain&rsquo;t in there. I&rsquo;ve seen him with
+my own eyes&mdash;and plenty of times, at that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Allegory? What is an allegory?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, Marse Tom, it&rsquo;s one of her
+words; she loves the big ones, you know, and I pick them up from
+her; they sound good and I can&rsquo;t help it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What happened after she had converted the boy into an
+allegory?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, she untied the raven and confiscated him by force
+and fetched him home, and left the doughnuts and things on the
+ground. Petted him, of course, like she does with every
+creature. In two days she had him so stuck after her that
+she&mdash;well, <i>you</i> know how he follows her everywhere,
+and sets on her shoulder often when she rides her breakneck
+rampages&mdash;all of which is the girl-twin to the front, you
+see&mdash;and he does what he pleases, and is up to all kinds of
+devilment, and is a perfect nuisance in the kitchen. Well,
+they all stand it, but they wouldn&rsquo;t if it was another
+person&rsquo;s bird.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here she began to chuckle comfortably, and presently she
+said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, you know, she&rsquo;s a nuisance herself, Miss
+Cathy is, she <i>is</i> so busy, and into everything, like that
+bird. It&rsquo;s all just as innocent, you know, and she
+don&rsquo;t mean any harm, and is so good and dear; and it
+ain&rsquo;t her fault, it&rsquo;s her nature; her interest is
+always a-working and always red-hot, and she can&rsquo;t keep
+quiet. Well, yesterday it was &lsquo;Please, Miss Cathy,
+don&rsquo;t do that&rsquo;; and, &lsquo;Please, Miss Cathy, let
+that alone&rsquo;; and, &lsquo;Please, Miss Cathy, don&rsquo;t
+make so much noise&rsquo;; and so on and so on, till I reckon I
+had found fault fourteen times in fifteen minutes; then she
+looked up at me with her big brown eyes that can plead so, and
+said in that odd little foreign way that goes to your heart,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;Please, mammy, make me a compliment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And of course you did it, you old fool?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Marse Tom, I just grabbed her up to my breast and says,
+&lsquo;Oh, you po&rsquo; dear little motherless thing, you
+ain&rsquo;t got a fault in the world, and you can do anything you
+want to, and tear the house down, and yo&rsquo; old black mammy
+won&rsquo;t say a word!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, of course, of course&mdash;<i>I</i> knew
+you&rsquo;d spoil the child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She brushed away her tears, and said with dignity:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Spoil the child? spoil <i>that</i> child, Marse
+Tom? There can&rsquo;t <i>anybody</i> spoil her.
+She&rsquo;s the king bee of this post, and everybody pets her and
+is her slave, and yet, as you know, your own self, she
+ain&rsquo;t the least little bit spoiled.&rdquo; Then she
+eased her mind with this retort: &ldquo;Marse Tom, she makes you
+do anything she wants to, and you can&rsquo;t deny it; so if she
+could be spoilt, she&rsquo;d been spoilt long ago, because you
+are the very <i>worst</i>! Look at that pile of cats in
+your chair, and you sitting on a candle-box, just as patient;
+it&rsquo;s because they&rsquo;re her cats.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a name="image48" href="images/p48b.jpg">
+<img alt="&ldquo;&lsquo;Look at that pile of cats in your
+chair&rsquo;&rdquo;"
+title="&ldquo;&lsquo;Look at that pile of cats in your
+chair&rsquo;&rdquo;"
+ src="images/p48s.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>If Dorcas were a soldier, I could punish her for such large
+frankness as that. I changed the subject, and made her
+resume her illustrations. She had scored against me fairly,
+and I wasn&rsquo;t going to cheapen her victory by disputing
+it. She proceeded to offer this incident in evidence on her
+twin theory:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Two weeks ago when she got her finger mashed open, she
+turned pretty pale with the pain, but she never said a
+word. I took her in my lap, and the surgeon sponged off the
+blood and took a needle and thread and began to sew it up; it had
+to have a lot of stitches, and each one made her scrunch a
+little, but she never let go a sound. At last the surgeon
+was so full of admiration that he said, &lsquo;Well, you
+<i>are</i> a brave little thing!&rsquo; and she said, just as
+ca&rsquo;m and simple as if she was talking about the weather,
+&lsquo;There isn&rsquo;t anybody braver but the Cid!&rsquo;
+You see? it was the boy-twin that the surgeon was a-dealing
+with.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is the Cid?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, sir&mdash;at least only what she
+says. She&rsquo;s always talking about him, and says he was
+the bravest hero Spain ever had, or any other country. They
+have it up and down, the children do, she standing up for the
+Cid, and they working George Washington for all he is
+worth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do they quarrel?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; it&rsquo;s only disputing, and bragging, the way
+children do. They want her to be an American, but she
+can&rsquo;t be anything but a Spaniard, she says. You see,
+her mother was always longing for home, po&rsquo; thing! and
+thinking about it, and so the child is just as much a Spaniard as
+if she&rsquo;d always lived there. She thinks she remembers
+how Spain looked, but I reckon she don&rsquo;t, because she was
+only a baby when they moved to France. She is very proud to
+be a Spaniard.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Does that please you, Mercedes? Very well, be content;
+your niece is loyal to her allegiance: her mother laid deep the
+foundations of her love for Spain, and she will go back to you as
+good a Spaniard as you are yourself. She has made me
+promise to take her to you for a long visit when the War Office
+retires me.</p>
+
+<p>I attend to her studies myself; has she told you that?
+Yes, I am her school-master, and she makes pretty good progress,
+I think, everything considered. Everything
+considered&mdash;being translated&mdash;means holidays. But
+the fact is, she was not born for study, and it comes hard.
+Hard for me, too; it hurts me like a physical pain to see that
+free spirit of the air and the sunshine laboring and grieving
+over a book; and sometimes when I find her gazing far away
+towards the plain and the blue mountains with the longing in her
+eyes, I have to throw open the prison doors; I can&rsquo;t help
+it. A quaint little scholar she is, and makes plenty of
+blunders. Once I put the question:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What does the Czar govern?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She rested her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand and
+took that problem under deep consideration. Presently she
+looked up and answered, with a rising inflection implying a shade
+of uncertainty,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The dative case?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here are a couple of her expositions which were delivered with
+tranquil confidence:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Chaplain</i>, diminutive of chap. <i>Lass</i>
+is masculine, <i>lassie</i> is feminine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She is not a genius, you see, but just a normal child; they
+all make mistakes of that sort. There is a glad light in
+her eye which is pretty to see when she finds herself able to
+answer a question promptly and accurately, without any
+hesitation; as, for instance, this morning:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Cathy dear, what is a cube?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, a native of Cuba.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She still drops a foreign word into her talk now and then, and
+there is still a subtle foreign flavor or fragrance about even
+her exactest English&mdash;and long may this abide! for it has
+for me a charm that is very pleasant. Sometimes her English
+is daintily prim and bookish and captivating. She has a
+child&rsquo;s sweet tooth, but for her health&rsquo;s sake I try
+to keep its inspirations under check. She is
+obedient&mdash;as is proper for a titled and recognized military
+personage, which she is&mdash;but the chain presses
+sometimes. For instance, we were out for a walk, and passed
+by some bushes that were freighted with wild goose-berries.
+Her face brightened and she put her hands together and delivered
+herself of this speech, most feelingly:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, if I was permitted a vice it would be the
+<i>gourmandise</i>!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Could I resist that? No. I gave her a
+gooseberry.</p>
+
+<p>You ask about her languages. They take care of
+themselves; they will not get rusty here; our regiments are not
+made up of natives alone&mdash;far from it. And she is
+picking up Indian tongues diligently.</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page56"></a>VI<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">SOLDIER BOY AND THE MEXICAN
+PLUG</span></h2>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">When</span> did you
+come?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Arrived at sundown.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where from?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Salt Lake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you in the service?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. Trade.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pirate trade, I reckon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you know about it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I saw you when you came. I recognized your
+master. He is a bad sort. Trap-robber, horse-thief,
+squaw-man, renegado&mdash;Hank Butters&mdash;I know him very
+well. Stole you, didn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it amounted to that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought so. Where is his pard?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He stopped at White Cloud&rsquo;s camp.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is another of the same stripe, is Blake
+Haskins.&rdquo; (<i>Aside</i>.) They are laying for
+Buffalo Bill again, I guess. (<i>Aloud</i>.)
+&ldquo;What is your name?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Which one?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you got more than one?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I get a new one every time I&rsquo;m stolen. I
+used to have an honest name, but that was early; I&rsquo;ve
+forgotten it. Since then I&rsquo;ve had thirteen
+<i>aliases</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aliases? What is alias?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A false name.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alias. It&rsquo;s a fine large word, and is in my
+line; it has quite a learned and cerebrospinal incandescent
+sound. Are you educated?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, no, I can&rsquo;t claim it. I can take down
+bars, I can distinguish oats from shoe-pegs, I can blaspheme a
+saddle-boil with the college-bred, and I know a few other
+things&mdash;not many; I have had no chance, I have always had to
+work; besides, I am of low birth and no family. You speak
+my dialect like a native, but you are not a Mexican Plug, you are
+a gentleman, I can see that; and educated, of course.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I am of old family, and not illiterate. I am
+a fossil.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A which?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fossil. The first horses were fossils. They
+date back two million years.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gr-eat sand and sage-brush! do you mean it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, it is true. The bones of my ancestors are
+held in reverence and worship, even by men. They do not
+leave them exposed to the weather when they find them, but carry
+them three thousand miles and enshrine them in their temples of
+learning, and worship them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is wonderful! I knew you must be a person of
+distinction, by your fine presence and courtly address, and by
+the fact that you are not subjected to the indignity of hobbles,
+like myself and the rest. Would you tell me your
+name?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have probably heard of it&mdash;Soldier
+Boy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What!&mdash;the renowned, the illustrious?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Even so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It takes my breath! Little did I dream that ever
+I should stand face to face with the possessor of that great
+name. Buffalo Bill&rsquo;s horse! Known from the
+Canadian border to the deserts of Arizona, and from the eastern
+marches of the Great Plains to the foot-hills of the
+Sierra! Truly this is a memorable day. You still
+serve the celebrated Chief of Scouts?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am still his property, but he has lent me, for a
+time, to the most noble, the most gracious, the most excellent,
+her Excellency Catherine, Corporal-General Seventh Cavalry and
+Flag-Lieutenant Ninth Dragoons, U.S.A.,&mdash;on whom be
+peace!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Amen. Did you say <i>her</i>
+Excellency?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The same. A Spanish lady, sweet blossom of a
+ducal house. And truly a wonder; knowing everything,
+capable of everything; speaking all the languages, master of all
+sciences, a mind without horizons, a heart of gold, the glory of
+her race! On whom be peace!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Amen. It is marvellous!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Verily. I knew many things, she has taught me
+others. I am educated. I will tell you about
+her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I listen&mdash;I am enchanted.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will tell a plain tale, calmly, without excitement,
+without eloquence. When she had been here four or five
+weeks she was already erudite in military things, and they made
+her an officer&mdash;a double officer. She rode the drill
+every day, like any soldier; and she could take the bugle and
+direct the evolutions herself. Then, on a day, there was a
+grand race, for prizes&mdash;none to enter but the
+children. Seventeen children entered, and she was the
+youngest. Three girls, fourteen boys&mdash;good riders
+all. It was a steeplechase, with four hurdles, all pretty
+high. The first prize was a most cunning half-grown silver
+bugle, and mighty pretty, with red silk cord and tassels.
+Buffalo Bill was very anxious; for he had taught her to ride, and
+he did most dearly want her to win that race, for the glory of
+it. So he wanted her to ride me, but she wouldn&rsquo;t;
+and she reproached him, and said it was unfair and unright, and
+taking advantage; for what horse in this post or any other could
+stand a chance against me? and she was very severe with him, and
+said, &lsquo;You ought to be ashamed&mdash;you are proposing to
+me conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman.&rsquo; So
+he just tossed her up in the air about thirty feet and caught her
+as she came down, and said he was ashamed; and put up his
+handkerchief and pretended to cry, which nearly broke her heart,
+and she petted him, and begged him to forgive her, and said she
+would do anything in the world he could ask but that; but he said
+he ought to go hang himself, and he <i>must</i>, if he could get
+a rope; it was nothing but right he should, for he never, never
+could forgive himself; and then <i>she</i> began to cry, and they
+both sobbed, the way you could hear him a mile, and she clinging
+around his neck and pleading, till at last he was comforted a
+little, and gave his solemn promise he wouldn&rsquo;t hang
+himself till after the race; and wouldn&rsquo;t do it at all if
+she won it, which made her happy, and she said she would win it
+or die in the saddle; so then everything was pleasant again and
+both of them content. He can&rsquo;t help playing jokes on
+her, he is so fond of her and she is so innocent and
+unsuspecting; and when she finds it out she cuffs him and is in a
+fury, but presently forgives him because it&rsquo;s him; and
+maybe the very next day she&rsquo;s caught with another joke; you
+see she can&rsquo;t learn any better, because she hasn&rsquo;t
+any deceit in her, and that kind aren&rsquo;t ever expecting it
+in another person.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was a grand race. The whole post was there,
+and there was such another whooping and shouting when the
+seventeen kids came flying down the turf and sailing over the
+hurdles&mdash;oh, beautiful to see! Half-way down, it was
+kind of neck and neck, and anybody&rsquo;s race and
+nobody&rsquo;s. Then, what should happen but a cow steps
+out and puts her head down to munch grass, with her broadside to
+the battalion, and they a-coming like the wind; they split apart
+to flank her, but <i>she</i>?&mdash;why, she drove the spurs home
+and soared over that cow like a bird! and on she went, and
+cleared the last hurdle solitary and alone, the army letting
+loose the grand yell, and she skipped from the horse the same as
+if he had been standing still, and made her bow, and everybody
+crowded around to congratulate, and they gave her the bugle, and
+she put it to her lips and blew &lsquo;boots and saddles&rsquo;
+to see how it would go, and BB was as proud as you can&rsquo;t
+think! And he said, &lsquo;Take Soldier Boy, and
+don&rsquo;t pass him back till I ask for him!&rsquo; and I can
+tell you he wouldn&rsquo;t have said that to any other person on
+this planet. That was two months and more ago, and nobody
+has been on my back since but the Corporal-General Seventh
+Cavalry and Flag-Lieutenant of the Ninth Dragoons,
+U.S.A.,&mdash;on whom be peace!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a name="image66" href="images/p66b.jpg">
+<img alt="Every morning they go clattering down into the plain"
+title="Every morning they go clattering down into the plain"
+ src="images/p66s.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Amen. I listen&mdash;tell me more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She set to work and organized the Sixteen, and called
+it the First Battalion Rocky Mountain Rangers, U.S.A., and she
+wanted to be bugler, but they elected her Lieutenant-General and
+Bugler. So she ranks her uncle the commandant, who is only
+a Brigadier. And doesn&rsquo;t she train those little
+people! Ask the Indians, ask the traders, ask the soldiers;
+they&rsquo;ll tell you. She has been at it from the first
+day. Every morning they go clattering down into the plain,
+and there she sits on my back with her bugle at her mouth and
+sounds the orders and puts them through the evolutions for an
+hour or more; and it is too beautiful for anything to see those
+ponies dissolve from one formation into another, and waltz about,
+and break, and scatter, and form again, always moving, always
+graceful, now trotting, now galloping, and so on, sometimes near
+by, sometimes in the distance, all just like a state ball, you
+know, and sometimes she can&rsquo;t hold herself any longer, but
+sounds the &lsquo;charge,&rsquo; and turns me loose! and you can
+take my word for it, if the battalion hasn&rsquo;t too much of a
+start we catch up and go over the breastworks with the front
+line.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, they are soldiers, those little people; and
+healthy, too, not ailing any more, the way they used to be
+sometimes. It&rsquo;s because of her drill.
+She&rsquo;s got a fort, now&mdash;Fort Fanny Marsh.
+Major-General Tommy Drake planned it out, and the Seventh and
+Dragoons built it. Tommy is the Colonel&rsquo;s son, and is
+fifteen and the oldest in the Battalion; Fanny Marsh is
+Brigadier-General, and is next oldest&mdash;over thirteen.
+She is daughter of Captain Marsh, Company B, Seventh
+Cavalry. Lieutenant-General Alison is the youngest by
+considerable; I think she is about nine and a half or
+three-quarters. Her military rig, as Lieutenant-General,
+isn&rsquo;t for business, it&rsquo;s for dress parade, because
+the ladies made it. They say they got it out of the Middle
+Ages&mdash;out of a book&mdash;and it is all red and blue and
+white silks and satins and velvets; tights, trunks, sword,
+doublet with slashed sleeves, short cape, cap with just one
+feather in it; I&rsquo;ve heard them name these things; they got
+them out of the book; she&rsquo;s dressed like a page, of old
+times, they say. It&rsquo;s the daintiest outfit that ever
+was&mdash;you will say so, when you see it. She&rsquo;s
+lovely in it&mdash;oh, just a dream! In some ways she is
+just her age, but in others she&rsquo;s as old as her uncle, I
+think. She is very learned. She teaches her uncle his
+book. I have seen her sitting by with the book and reciting
+to him what is in it, so that he can learn to do it himself.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Every Saturday she hires little Injuns to garrison her
+fort; then she lays siege to it, and makes military approaches by
+make-believe trenches in make-believe night, and finally at
+make-believe dawn she draws her sword and sounds the assault and
+takes it by storm. It is for practice. And she has
+invented a bugle-call all by herself, out of her own head, and
+it&rsquo;s a stirring one, and the prettiest in the
+service. It&rsquo;s to call <i>me</i>&mdash;it&rsquo;s
+never used for anything else. She taught it to me, and told
+me what it says: &lsquo;<i>It is I</i>,
+<i>Soldier&mdash;come</i>!&rsquo; and when those thrilling notes
+come floating down the distance I hear them without fail, even if
+I am two miles away; and then&mdash;oh, then you should see my
+heels get down to business!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And she has taught me how to say good-morning and
+good-night to her, which is by lifting my right hoof for her to
+shake; and also how to say good-bye; I do that with my left
+foot&mdash;but only for practice, because there hasn&rsquo;t been
+any but make-believe good-byeing yet, and I hope there
+won&rsquo;t ever be. It would make me cry if I ever had to
+put up my left foot in earnest. She has taught me how to
+salute, and I can do it as well as a soldier. I bow my head
+low, and lay my right hoof against my cheek. She taught me
+that because I got into disgrace once, through ignorance. I
+am privileged, because I am known to be honorable and
+trustworthy, and because I have a distinguished record in the
+service; so they don&rsquo;t hobble me nor tie me to stakes or
+shut me tight in stables, but let me wander around to suit
+myself. Well, trooping the colors is a very solemn
+ceremony, and everybody must stand uncovered when the flag goes
+by, the commandant and all; and once I was there, and ignorantly
+walked across right in front of the band, which was an awful
+disgrace: Ah, the Lieutenant-General was so ashamed, and so
+distressed that I should have done such a thing before all the
+world, that she couldn&rsquo;t keep the tears back; and then she
+taught me the salute, so that if I ever did any other unmilitary
+act through ignorance I could do my salute and she believed
+everybody would think it was apology enough and would not press
+the matter. It is very nice and distinguished; no other
+horse can do it; often the men salute me, and I return it.
+I am privileged to be present when the Rocky Mountain Rangers
+troop the colors and I stand solemn, like the children, and I
+salute when the flag goes by. Of course when she goes to
+her fort her sentries sing out &lsquo;Turn out the guard!&rsquo;
+and then . . . do you catch that refreshing early-morning whiff
+from the mountain-pines and the wild flowers? The night is
+far spent; we&rsquo;ll hear the bugles before long. Dorcas,
+the black woman, is very good and nice; she takes care of the
+Lieutenant-General, and is Brigadier-General Alison&rsquo;s
+mother, which makes her mother-in-law to the
+Lieutenant-General. That is what Shekels says. At
+least it is what I think he says, though I never can understand
+him quite clearly. He&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is Shekels?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Seventh Cavalry dog. I mean, if he <i>is</i>
+a dog. His father was a coyote and his mother was a
+wild-cat. It doesn&rsquo;t really make a dog out of him,
+does it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a real dog, I should think. Only a kind of a
+general dog, at most, I reckon. Though this is a matter of
+ichthyology, I suppose; and if it is, it is out of my depth, and
+so my opinion is not valuable, and I don&rsquo;t claim much
+consideration for it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t ichthyology; it is dogmatics, which is
+still more difficult and tangled up. Dogmatics always
+are.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dogmatics is quite beyond me, quite; so I am not
+competing. But on general principles it is my opinion that
+a colt out of a coyote and a wild-cat is no square dog, but
+doubtful. That is my hand, and I stand pat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it is as far as I can go myself, and be fair and
+conscientious. I have always regarded him as a doubtful
+dog, and so has Potter. Potter is the great Dane.
+Potter says he is no dog, and not even poultry&mdash;though I do
+not go quite so far as that.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I wouldn&rsquo;t, myself. Poultry is one of
+those things which no person can get to the bottom of, there is
+so much of it and such variety. It is just wings, and
+wings, and wings, till you are weary: turkeys, and geese, and
+bats, and butterflies, and angels, and grasshoppers, and
+flying-fish, and&mdash;well, there is really no end to the tribe;
+it gives me the heaves just to think of it. But this one
+hasn&rsquo;t any wings, has he?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, in my belief he is more likely to be dog
+than poultry. I have not heard of poultry that hadn&rsquo;t
+wings. Wings is the <i>sign</i> of poultry; it is what you
+tell poultry by. Look at the mosquito.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you reckon he is, then? He must be
+something.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, he could be a reptile; anything that hasn&rsquo;t
+wings is a reptile.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who told you that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nobody told me, but I overheard it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where did you overhear it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Years ago. I was with the Philadelphia Institute
+expedition in the Bad Lands under Professor Cope, hunting
+mastodon bones, and I overheard him say, his own self, that any
+plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium that hadn&rsquo;t
+wings and was uncertain was a reptile. Well, then, has this
+dog any wings? No. Is he a plantigrade circumflex
+vertebrate bacterium? Maybe so, maybe not; but without ever
+having seen him, and judging only by his illegal and spectacular
+parentage, I will bet the odds of a bale of hay to a bran mash
+that he looks it. Finally, is he uncertain? That is
+the point&mdash;is he uncertain? I will leave it to you if
+you have ever heard of a more uncertainer dog than what this one
+is?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I never have.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, he&rsquo;s a reptile. That&rsquo;s
+settled.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, look here, whatsyourname&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Last alias, Mongrel.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A good one, too. I was going to say, you are
+better educated than you have been pretending to be. I like
+cultured society, and I shall cultivate your acquaintance.
+Now as to Shekels, whenever you want to know about any private
+thing that is going on at this post or in White Cloud&rsquo;s
+camp or Thunder-Bird&rsquo;s, he can tell you; and if you make
+friends with him he&rsquo;ll be glad to, for he is a born gossip,
+and picks up all the tittle-tattle. Being the whole Seventh
+Cavalry&rsquo;s reptile, he doesn&rsquo;t belong to anybody in
+particular, and hasn&rsquo;t any military duties; so he comes and
+goes as he pleases, and is popular with all the house cats and
+other authentic sources of private information. He
+understands all the languages, and talks them all, too.
+With an accent like gritting your teeth, it is true, and with a
+grammar that is no improvement on blasphemy&mdash;still, with
+practice you get at the meat of what he says, and it serves. . .
+Hark! That&rsquo;s the reveille. . . .</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/p80b.jpg">
+<img alt="Music score for The Reveille"
+title="Music score for The Reveille"
+ src="images/p80s.jpg" /></a>
+<a name="citation80"></a><a href="#footnote80"
+class="citation">[80]</a>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Faint and far, but isn&rsquo;t it clear, isn&rsquo;t it
+sweet? There&rsquo;s no music like the bugle to stir the
+blood, in the still solemnity of the morning twilight, with the
+dim plain stretching away to nothing and the spectral mountains
+slumbering against the sky. You&rsquo;ll hear another note
+in a minute&mdash;faint and far and clear, like the other one,
+and sweeter still, you&rsquo;ll notice. Wait . . .
+listen. There it goes! It says, &lsquo;<i>It is
+I</i>, <i>Soldier&mdash;come</i>!&rsquo; . . .</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/p81b.jpg">
+<img alt="Soldier Boy&rsquo;s Bugle Call [music score]"
+title="Soldier Boy&rsquo;s Bugle Call [music score]"
+ src="images/p81s.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>. . . Now then, watch me leave a blue streak
+behind!&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page82"></a>VII<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">SOLDIER BOY AND SHEKELS</span></h2>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Did</span> you do as I told
+you? Did you look up the Mexican Plug?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I made his acquaintance before night and got his
+friendship.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I liked him. Did you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not at first. He took me for a reptile, and it
+troubled me, because I didn&rsquo;t know whether it was a
+compliment or not. I couldn&rsquo;t ask him, because it
+would look ignorant. So I didn&rsquo;t say anything, and
+soon liked him very well indeed. Was it a compliment, do
+you think?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, that is what it was. They are very rare, the
+reptiles; very few left, now-a-days.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is that so? What is a reptile?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is a plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium
+that hasn&rsquo;t any wings and is uncertain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it&mdash;it sounds fine, it surely
+does.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And it <i>is</i> fine. You may be thankful you
+are one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am. It seems wonderfully grand and elegant for
+a person that is so humble as I am; but I am thankful, I am
+indeed, and will try to live up to it. It is hard to
+remember. Will you say it again, please, and say it
+slow?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium that
+hasn&rsquo;t any wings and is uncertain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is beautiful, anybody must grant it; beautiful, and
+of a noble sound. I hope it will not make me proud and
+stuck-up&mdash;I should not like to be that. It is much
+more distinguished and honorable to be a reptile than a dog,
+don&rsquo;t you think, Soldier?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, there&rsquo;s no comparison. It is awfully
+aristocratic. Often a duke is called a reptile; it is set
+down so, in history.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t that grand! Potter wouldn&rsquo;t
+ever associate with me, but I reckon he&rsquo;ll be glad to when
+he finds out what I am.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can depend upon it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will thank Mongrel for this. He is a very good sort,
+for a Mexican Plug. Don&rsquo;t you think he is?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is my opinion of him; and as for his birth, he
+cannot help that. We cannot all be reptiles, we cannot all
+be fossils; we have to take what comes and be thankful it is no
+worse. It is the true philosophy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For those others?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stick to the subject, please. Did it turn out
+that my suspicions were right?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, perfectly right. Mongrel has heard them
+planning. They are after BB&rsquo;s life, for running them
+out of Medicine Bow and taking their stolen horses away from
+them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, they&rsquo;ll get him yet, for sure.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not if he keeps a sharp look-out.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>He</i> keep a sharp lookout! He never does; he
+despises them, and all their kind. His life is always being
+threatened, and so it has come to be monotonous.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Does he know they are here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh yes, he knows it. He is always the earliest to
+know who comes and who goes. But he cares nothing for them
+and their threats; he only laughs when people warn him.
+They&rsquo;ll shoot him from behind a tree the first he
+knows. Did Mongrel tell you their plans?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. They have found out that he starts for Fort
+Clayton day after to-morrow, with one of his scouts; so they will
+leave to-morrow, letting on to go south, but they will fetch
+around north all in good time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shekels, I don&rsquo;t like the look of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page88"></a>VIII<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">THE SCOUT-START. BB AND
+LIEUTENANT-GENERAL ALISON</span></h2>
+
+<p>BB (<i>saluting</i>). &ldquo;Good! handsomely
+done! The Seventh couldn&rsquo;t beat it! You do
+certainly handle your Rangers like an expert, General. And
+where are you bound?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Four miles on the trail to Fort Clayton.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Glad am I, dear! What&rsquo;s the idea of
+it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Guard of honor for you and Thorndike.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless&mdash;your&mdash;<i>heart</i>! I&rsquo;d
+rather have it from you than from the Commander-in-Chief of the
+armies of the United States, you incomparable little
+soldier!&mdash;and I don&rsquo;t need to take any oath to that,
+for you to believe it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I <i>thought</i> you&rsquo;d like it, BB.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Like</i> it? Well, I should say so! Now
+then&mdash;all ready&mdash;sound the advance, and away we
+go!&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page90"></a>IX<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">SOLDIER BOY AND SHEKELS AGAIN</span></h2>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Well</span>, this is the way it
+happened. We did the escort duty; then we came back and
+struck for the plain and put the Rangers through a rousing
+drill&mdash;oh, for hours! Then we sent them home under
+Brigadier-General Fanny Marsh; then the Lieutenant-General and I
+went off on a gallop over the plains for about three hours, and
+were lazying along home in the middle of the afternoon, when we
+met Jimmy Slade, the drummer-boy, and he saluted and asked the
+Lieutenant-General if she had heard the news, and she said no,
+and he said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Buffalo Bill has been ambushed and badly shot
+this side of Clayton, and Thorndike the scout, too; Bill
+couldn&rsquo;t travel, but Thorndike could, and he brought the
+news, and Sergeant Wilkes and six men of Company B are gone, two
+hours ago, hotfoot, to get Bill. And they
+say&mdash;&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;<i>Go</i>!&rsquo; she shouts to me&mdash;and I
+went.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fast?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t ask foolish questions. It was an
+awful pace. For four hours nothing happened, and not a word
+said, except that now and then she said, &lsquo;Keep it up, Boy,
+keep it up, sweetheart; we&rsquo;ll save him!&rsquo; I kept
+it up. Well, when the dark shut down, in the rugged hills,
+that poor little chap had been tearing around in the saddle all
+day, and I noticed by the slack knee-pressure that she was tired
+and tottery, and I got dreadfully afraid; but every time I tried
+to slow down and let her go to sleep, so I could stop, she
+hurried me up again; and so, sure enough, at last over she
+went!</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a name="image92" href="images/p92b.jpg">
+<img alt="&ldquo;There was nothing to do but stand by&rdquo;"
+title="&ldquo;There was nothing to do but stand by&rdquo;"
+ src="images/p92s.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, that was a fix to be in I for she lay there and
+didn&rsquo;t stir, and what was I to do? I couldn&rsquo;t
+leave her to fetch help, on account of the wolves. There
+was nothing to do but stand by. It was dreadful. I
+was afraid she was killed, poor little thing! But she
+wasn&rsquo;t. She came to, by-and-by, and said, &lsquo;Kiss
+me, Soldier,&rsquo; and those were blessed words. I kissed
+her&mdash;often; I am used to that, and we like it. But she
+didn&rsquo;t get up, and I was worried. She fondled my nose
+with her hand, and talked to me, and called me endearing
+names&mdash;which is her way&mdash;but she caressed with the same
+hand all the time. The other arm was broken, you see, but I
+didn&rsquo;t know it, and she didn&rsquo;t mention it. She
+didn&rsquo;t want to distress me, you know.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Soon the big gray wolves came, and hung around, and you
+could hear them snarl, and snap at each other, but you
+couldn&rsquo;t see anything of them except their eyes, which
+shone in the dark like sparks and stars. The
+Lieutenant-General said, &lsquo;If I had the Rocky Mountain
+Rangers here, we would make those creatures climb a
+tree.&rsquo; Then she made believe that the Rangers were in
+hearing, and put up her bugle and blew the
+&lsquo;assembly&rsquo;; and then, &lsquo;boots and
+saddles&rsquo;; then the &lsquo;trot&rsquo;;
+&lsquo;gallop&rsquo;; &lsquo;charge!&rsquo; Then she blew
+the &lsquo;retreat,&rsquo; and said, &lsquo;That&rsquo;s for you,
+you rebels; the Rangers don&rsquo;t ever retreat!&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The music frightened them away, but they were hungry,
+and kept coming back. And of course they got bolder and
+bolder, which is their way. It went on for an hour, then
+the tired child went to sleep, and it was pitiful to hear her
+moan and nestle, and I couldn&rsquo;t do anything for her.
+All the time I was laying for the wolves. They are in my
+line; I have had experience. At last the boldest one
+ventured within my lines, and I landed him among his friends with
+some of his skull still on him, and they did the rest. In
+the next hour I got a couple more, and they went the way of the
+first one, down the throats of the detachment. That
+satisfied the survivors, and they went away and left us in
+peace.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We hadn&rsquo;t any more adventures, though I kept
+awake all night and was ready. From midnight on the child
+got very restless, and out of her head, and moaned, and said,
+&lsquo;Water, water&mdash;thirsty&rsquo;; and now and then,
+&lsquo;Kiss me, Soldier&rsquo;; and sometimes she was in her fort
+and giving orders to her garrison; and once she was in Spain, and
+thought her mother was with her. People say a horse
+can&rsquo;t cry; but they don&rsquo;t know, because we cry
+inside.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was an hour after sunup that I heard the boys
+coming, and recognized the hoof-beats of Pomp and C&aelig;sar and
+Jerry, old mates of mine; and a welcomer sound there
+couldn&rsquo;t ever be.</p>
+
+<p>Buffalo Bill was in a horse-litter, with his leg broken by a
+bullet, and Mongrel and Blake Haskins&rsquo;s horse were doing
+the work. Buffalo Bill and Thorndike had lolled both of
+those toughs.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When they got to us, and Buffalo Bill saw the child
+lying there so white, he said, &lsquo;My God!&rsquo; and the
+sound of his voice brought her to herself, and she gave a little
+cry of pleasure and struggled to get up, but couldn&rsquo;t, and
+the soldiers gathered her up like the tenderest women, and their
+eyes were wet and they were not ashamed, when they saw her arm
+dangling; and so were Buffalo Bill&rsquo;s, and when they laid
+her in his arms he said, &lsquo;My darling, how does this
+come?&rsquo; and she said, &lsquo;We came to save you, but I was
+tired, and couldn&rsquo;t keep awake, and fell off and hurt
+myself, and couldn&rsquo;t get on again.&rsquo; &lsquo;You
+came to save me, you dear little rat? It was too lovely of
+you!&rsquo; &lsquo;Yes, and Soldier stood by me, which you
+know he would, and protected me from the wolves; and if he got a
+chance he kicked the life out of some of them&mdash;for you know
+he would, BB.&rsquo; The sergeant said, &lsquo;He laid out
+three of them, sir, and here&rsquo;s the bones to show for
+it.&rsquo; &lsquo;He&rsquo;s a grand horse,&rsquo; said BB;
+&lsquo;he&rsquo;s the grandest horse that ever was! and has saved
+your life, Lieutenant-General Alison, and shall protect it the
+rest of his life&mdash;he&rsquo;s yours for a kiss!&rsquo;
+He got it, along with a passion of delight, and he said,
+&lsquo;You are feeling better now, little Spaniard&mdash;do you
+think you could blow the advance?&rsquo; She put up the
+bugle to do it, but he said wait a minute first. Then he
+and the sergeant set her arm and put it in splints, she wincing
+but not whimpering; then we took up the march for home, and
+that&rsquo;s the end of the tale; and I&rsquo;m her horse.
+Isn&rsquo;t she a brick, Shekels?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Brick? She&rsquo;s more than a brick, more than a
+thousand bricks&mdash;she&rsquo;s a reptile!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a compliment out of your heart,
+Shekels. God bless you for it!&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page100"></a>X<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">GENERAL ALISON AND DORCAS</span></h2>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Too</span> much company for her,
+Marse Tom. Betwixt you, and Shekels, the Colonel&rsquo;s
+wife, and the Cid&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Cid? Oh, I remember&mdash;the
+raven.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&mdash;and Mrs. Captain Marsh and Famine and Pestilence
+the baby <i>coyotes</i>, and Sour-Mash and her pups, and
+Sardanapalus and her kittens&mdash;hang these names she gives the
+creatures, they warp my jaw&mdash;and Potter: you&mdash;all
+sitting around in the house, and Soldier Boy at the window the
+entire time, it&rsquo;s a wonder to me she comes along as well as
+she does. She&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You want her all to yourself, you stingy old
+thing!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Marse Tom, you know better. It&rsquo;s too much
+company. And then the idea of her receiving reports all the
+time from her officers, and acting upon them, and giving orders,
+the same as if she was well! It ain&rsquo;t good for her,
+and the surgeon don&rsquo;t like it, and tried to persuade her
+not to and couldn&rsquo;t; and when he <i>ordered</i> her, she
+was that outraged and indignant, and was very severe on him, and
+accused him of insubordination, and said it didn&rsquo;t become
+him to give orders to an officer of her rank. Well, he saw
+he had excited her more and done more harm than all the rest put
+together, so he was vexed at himself and wished he had kept
+still. Doctors <i>don&rsquo;t</i> know much, and
+that&rsquo;s a fact. She&rsquo;s too much interested in
+things&mdash;she ought to rest more. She&rsquo;s all the
+time sending messages to BB, and to soldiers and Injuns and
+whatnot, and to the animals.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To the animals?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who carries them?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sometimes Potter, but mostly it&rsquo;s
+Shekels.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now come! who can find fault with such pretty
+make-believe as that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But it ain&rsquo;t make-believe, Marse Tom. She
+does send them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I don&rsquo;t doubt that part of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you doubt they get them, sir?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly. Don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, sir. Animals talk to one another. I
+know it perfectly well, Marse Tom, and I ain&rsquo;t saying it by
+guess.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a curious superstition!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It ain&rsquo;t a superstition, Marse Tom. Look at
+that Shekels&mdash;look at him, <i>now</i>. Is he
+listening, or ain&rsquo;t he? <i>Now</i> you see!
+he&rsquo;s turned his head away. It&rsquo;s because he was
+caught&mdash;caught in the act. I&rsquo;ll ask
+you&mdash;could a Christian look any more ashamed than what he
+looks now?&mdash;<i>lay down</i>! You see? he was going to
+sneak out. Don&rsquo;t tell <i>me</i>, Marse Tom! If
+animals don&rsquo;t talk, I miss <i>my</i> guess. And
+Shekels is the worst. He goes and tells the animals
+everything that happens in the officers&rsquo; quarters; and if
+he&rsquo;s short of facts, he invents them. He hasn&rsquo;t
+any more principle than a blue jay; and as for morals, he&rsquo;s
+empty. Look at him now; look at him grovel. He knows
+what I am saying, and he knows it&rsquo;s the truth. You
+see, yourself, that he can feel shame; it&rsquo;s the only virtue
+he&rsquo;s got. It&rsquo;s wonderful how they find out
+everything that&rsquo;s going on&mdash;the animals.
+They&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you really believe they do, Dorcas?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t only just believe it, Marse Tom, I know
+it. Day before yesterday they knew something was going to
+happen. They were that excited, and whispering around
+together; why, anybody could see that they&mdash; But my! I must
+get back to her, and I haven&rsquo;t got to my errand
+yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it, Dorcas?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it&rsquo;s two or three things. One is, the
+doctor don&rsquo;t salute when he comes . . . Now, Marse Tom, it
+ain&rsquo;t anything to laugh at, and so&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, forgive me; I didn&rsquo;t mean to
+laugh&mdash;I got caught unprepared.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see, she don&rsquo;t want to hurt the
+doctor&rsquo;s feelings, so she don&rsquo;t say anything to him
+about it; but she is always polite, herself, and it hurts that
+kind for people to be rude to them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have that doctor hanged.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Marse Tom, she don&rsquo;t <i>want</i> him
+hanged. She&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, I&rsquo;ll have him boiled in
+oil.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But she don&rsquo;t <i>want</i> him boiled.
+I&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, very well, very well, I only want to please her;
+I&rsquo;ll have him skinned.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, <i>she</i> don&rsquo;t want him skinned; it would
+break her heart. Now&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Woman, this is perfectly unreasonable. What in
+the nation <i>does</i> she want?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Marse Tom, if you would only be a little patient, and
+not fly off the handle at the least little thing. Why, she
+only wants you to speak to him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Speak to him! Well, upon my word! All this
+unseemly rage and row about such a&mdash;a&mdash; Dorcas, I never
+saw you carry on like this before. You have alarmed the
+sentry; he thinks I am being assassinated; he thinks
+there&rsquo;s a mutiny, a revolt, an insurrection;
+he&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Marse Tom, you are just putting on; you know it
+perfectly well; I don&rsquo;t know what makes you act like
+that&mdash;but you always did, even when you was little, and you
+can&rsquo;t get over it, I reckon. Are you over it now,
+Marse Tom?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, well, yes; but it would try anybody to be doing the
+best he could, offering every kindness he could think of, only to
+have it rejected with contumely and . . . Oh, well, let it go;
+it&rsquo;s no matter&mdash;I&rsquo;ll talk to the doctor.
+Is that satisfactory, or are you going to break out
+again?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir, it is; and it&rsquo;s only right to talk to
+him, too, because it&rsquo;s just as she says; she&rsquo;s trying
+to keep up discipline in the Rangers, and this insubordination of
+his is a bad example for them&mdash;now ain&rsquo;t it so, Marse
+Tom?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, there <i>is</i> reason in it, I can&rsquo;t deny
+it; so I will speak to him, though at bottom I think hanging
+would be more lasting. What is the rest of your errand,
+Dorcas?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course her room is Ranger headquarters now, Marse
+Tom, while she&rsquo;s sick. Well, soldiers of the cavalry
+and the dragoons that are off duty come and get her sentries to
+let them relieve them and serve in their place. It&rsquo;s
+only out of affection, sir, and because they know military honors
+please her, and please the children too, for her sake; and they
+don&rsquo;t bring their muskets; and so&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve noticed them there, but didn&rsquo;t twig
+the idea. They are standing guard, are they?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir, and she is afraid you will reprove them and
+hurt their feelings, if you see them there; so she begs,
+if&mdash;if you don&rsquo;t mind coming in the back
+way&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bear me up, Dorcas; don&rsquo;t let me
+faint.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There&mdash;sit up and behave, Marse Tom. You are
+not going to faint; you are only pretending&mdash;you used to act
+just so when you was little; it does seem a long time for you to
+get grown up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dorcas, the way the child is progressing, I shall be
+out of my job before long&mdash;she&rsquo;ll have the whole post
+in her hands. I must make a stand, I must not go down
+without a struggle. These encroachments. . . . Dorcas, what
+do you think she will think of next?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Marse Tom, she don&rsquo;t mean any harm.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you sure of it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Marse Tom.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You feel sure she has no ulterior designs?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what that is, Marse Tom, but I know
+she hasn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well, then, for the present I am satisfied.
+What else have you come about?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I reckon I better tell you the whole thing first, Marse
+Tom, then tell you what she wants. There&rsquo;s been an
+emeute, as she calls it. It was before she got back with
+BB. The officer of the day reported it to her this
+morning. It happened at her fort. There was a fuss
+betwixt Major-General Tommy Drake and Lieutenant-Colonel Agnes
+Frisbie, and he snatched her doll away, which is made of white
+kid stuffed with sawdust, and tore every rag of its clothes off,
+right before them all, and is under arrest, and the charge is
+conduct un&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I know&mdash;conduct unbecoming an officer and a
+gentleman&mdash;a plain case, too, it seems to me. This is
+a serious matter. Well, what is her pleasure?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Marse Tom, she has summoned a court-martial, but
+the doctor don&rsquo;t think she is well enough to preside over
+it, and she says there ain&rsquo;t anybody competent but her,
+because there&rsquo;s a major-general concerned; and so
+she&mdash;she&mdash;well, she says, would you preside over it for
+her? . . . Marse Tom, <i>sit</i> up! You ain&rsquo;t any
+more going to faint than Shekels is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look here, Dorcas, go along back, and be tactful.
+Be persuasive; don&rsquo;t fret her; tell her it&rsquo;s all
+right, the matter is in my hands, but it isn&rsquo;t good form to
+hurry so grave a matter as this. Explain to her that we
+have to go by precedents, and that I believe this one to be
+new. In fact, you can say I know that nothing just like it
+has happened in our army, therefore I must be guided by European
+precedents, and must go cautiously and examine them
+carefully. Tell her not to be impatient, it will take me
+several days, but it will all come out right, and I will come
+over and report progress as I go along. Do you get the
+idea, Dorcas?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know as I do, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it&rsquo;s this. You see, it won&rsquo;t
+ever do for me, a brigadier in the regular army, to preside over
+that infant court-martial&mdash;there isn&rsquo;t any precedent
+for it, don&rsquo;t you see. Very well. I will go on
+examining authorities and reporting progress until she is well
+enough to get me out of this scrape by presiding herself.
+Do you get it now?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes, sir, I get it, and it&rsquo;s good, I&rsquo;ll
+go and fix it with her. <i>Lay down</i>! and stay where you
+are.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, what harm is he doing?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it ain&rsquo;t any harm, but it just vexes me to
+see him act so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What was he doing?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you see, and him in such a sweat? He
+was starting out to spread it all over the post. <i>Now</i>
+I reckon you won&rsquo;t deny, any more, that they go and tell
+everything they hear, now that you&rsquo;ve seen it with
+yo&rsquo; own eyes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I don&rsquo;t like to acknowledge it, Dorcas, but
+I don&rsquo;t see how I can consistently stick to my doubts in
+the face of such overwhelming proof as this dog is
+furnishing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There, now, you&rsquo;ve got in yo&rsquo; right mind at
+last! I wonder you can be so stubborn, Marse Tom. But
+you always was, even when you was little. I&rsquo;m going
+now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look here; tell her that in view of the delay, it is my
+judgment that she ought to enlarge the accused on his
+parole.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir, I&rsquo;ll tell her. Marse
+Tom?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She can&rsquo;t get to Soldier Boy, and he stands there
+all the time, down in the mouth and lonesome; and she says will
+you shake hands with him and comfort him? Everybody
+does.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a curious kind of lonesomeness; but, all
+right, I will.&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page116"></a>XI<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">SEVERAL MONTHS LATER. ANTONIO AND
+THORNDIKE</span></h2>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Thorndike</span>, isn&rsquo;t that
+Plug you&rsquo;re riding an asset of the scrap you and Buffalo
+Bill had with the late Blake Haskins and his pal a few months
+back?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, this is Mongrel&mdash;and not a half-bad horse,
+either.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve noticed he keeps up his lick
+first-rate. Say&mdash;isn&rsquo;t it a gaudy
+morning?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Right you are!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thorndike, it&rsquo;s Andalusian! and when that&rsquo;s
+said, all&rsquo;s said.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Andalusian <i>and</i> Oregonian, Antonio! Put it
+that way, and you have my vote. Being a native up there, I
+know. You being Andalusian-born&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can speak with authority for that patch of
+paradise? Well, I can. Like the Don! like
+Sancho! This is the correct Andalusian dawn
+now&mdash;crisp, fresh, dewy, fragrant, pungent&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;&lsquo;What though the spicy breezes<br />
+Blow soft o&rsquo;er Ceylon&rsquo;s isle&mdash;&rsquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>&mdash;<i>git</i> up, you old cow! stumbling like that when
+we&rsquo;ve just been praising you! out on a scout and
+can&rsquo;t live up to the honor any better than that?
+Antonio, how long have you been out here in the Plains and the
+Rockies?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;More than thirteen years.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a long time. Don&rsquo;t you ever get
+homesick?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not till now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why <i>now</i>?&mdash;after such a long
+cure.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;These preparations of the retiring commandant&rsquo;s
+have started it up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course. It&rsquo;s natural.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It keeps me thinking about Spain. I know the
+region where the Seventh&rsquo;s child&rsquo;s aunt lives; I know
+all the lovely country for miles around; I&rsquo;ll bet
+I&rsquo;ve seen her aunt&rsquo;s villa many a time; I&rsquo;ll
+bet I&rsquo;ve been in it in those pleasant old times when I was
+a Spanish gentleman.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They say the child is wild to see Spain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s so; I know it from what I hear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t you talked with her about it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. I&rsquo;ve avoided it. I should soon be
+as wild as she is. That would not be
+comfortable.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish I was going, Antonio. There&rsquo;s two
+things I&rsquo;d give a lot to see. One&rsquo;s a
+railroad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;ll see one when she strikes
+Missouri.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The other&rsquo;s a bull-fight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve seen lots of them; I wish I could see
+another.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know anything about it, except in a
+mixed-up, foggy way, Antonio, but I know enough to know
+it&rsquo;s grand sport.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The grandest in the world! There&rsquo;s no other
+sport that begins with it. I&rsquo;ll tell you what
+I&rsquo;ve seen, then you can judge. It was my first, and
+it&rsquo;s as vivid to me now as it was when I saw it. It
+was a Sunday afternoon, and beautiful weather, and my uncle, the
+priest, took me as a reward for being a good boy and because of
+my own accord and without anybody asking me I had bankrupted my
+savings-box and given the money to a mission that was civilizing
+the Chinese and sweetening their lives and softening their hearts
+with the gentle teachings of our religion, and I wish you could
+have seen what we saw that day, Thorndike.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The amphitheatre was packed, from the bull-ring to the
+highest row&mdash;twelve thousand people in one circling mass,
+one slanting, solid mass&mdash;royalties, nobles, clergy, ladies,
+gentlemen, state officials, generals, admirals, soldiers,
+sailors, lawyers, thieves, merchants, brokers, cooks, housemaids,
+scullery-maids, doubtful women, dudes, gamblers, beggars,
+loafers, tramps, American ladies, gentlemen, preachers, English
+ladies, gentlemen, preachers, German ditto, French ditto, and so
+on and so on, all the world represented: Spaniards to admire and
+praise, foreigners to enjoy and go home and find
+fault&mdash;there they were, one solid, sloping, circling sweep
+of rippling and flashing color under the downpour of the summer
+sun&mdash;just a garden, a gaudy, gorgeous flower-garden!
+Children munching oranges, six thousand fans fluttering and
+glimmering, everybody happy, everybody chatting gayly with their
+intimates, lovely girl-faces smiling recognition and salutation
+to other lovely girl-faces, gray old ladies and gentlemen dealing
+in the like exchanges with each other&mdash;ah, such a picture of
+cheery contentment and glad anticipation! not a mean spirit, nor
+a sordid soul, nor a sad heart there&mdash;ah, Thorndike, I wish
+I could see it again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suddenly, the martial note of a bugle cleaves the hum
+and murmur&mdash;clear the ring!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They clear it. The great gate is flung open, and
+the procession marches in, splendidly costumed and glittering:
+the marshals of the day, then the picadores on horseback, then
+the matadores on foot, each surrounded by his quadrille of
+<i>chulos</i>. They march to the box of the city fathers,
+and formally salute. The key is thrown, the bull-gate is
+unlocked. Another bugle blast&mdash;the gate flies open,
+the bull plunges in, furious, trembling, blinking in the blinding
+light, and stands there, a magnificent creature, centre of those
+multitudinous and admiring eyes, brave, ready for battle, his
+attitude a challenge. He sees his enemy: horsemen sitting
+motionless, with long spears in rest, upon blindfolded
+broken-down nags, lean and starved, fit only for sport and
+sacrifice, then the carrion-heap.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The bull makes a rush, with murder in his eye, but a
+picador meets him with a spear-thrust in the shoulder. He
+flinches with the pain, and the picador skips out of
+danger. A burst of applause for the picador, hisses for the
+bull. Some shout &lsquo;Cow!&rsquo; at the bull, and call
+him offensive names. But he is not listening to them, he is
+there for business; he is not minding the cloak-bearers that come
+fluttering around to confuse him; he chases this way, he chases
+that way, and hither and yon, scattering the nimble banderillos
+in every direction like a spray, and receiving their maddening
+darts in his neck as they dodge and fly&mdash;oh, but it&rsquo;s
+a lively spectacle, and brings down the house! Ah, you
+should hear the thundering roar that goes up when the game is at
+its wildest and brilliant things are done!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, that first bull, that day, was great! From
+the moment the spirit of war rose to flood-tide in him and he got
+down to his work, he began to do wonders. He tore his way
+through his persecutors, flinging one of them clear over the
+parapet; he bowled a horse and his rider down, and plunged
+straight for the next, got home with his horns, wounding both
+horse and man; on again, here and there and this way and that;
+and one after another he tore the bowels out of two horses so
+that they gushed to the ground, and ripped a third one so badly
+that although they rushed him to cover and shoved his bowels back
+and stuffed the rents with tow and rode him against the bull
+again, he couldn&rsquo;t make the trip; he tried to gallop, under
+the spur, but soon reeled and tottered and fell, all in a
+heap. For a while, that bull-ring was the most thrilling
+and glorious and inspiring sight that ever was seen. The
+bull absolutely cleared it, and stood there alone! monarch of the
+place. The people went mad for pride in him, and joy and
+delight, and you couldn&rsquo;t hear yourself think, for the roar
+and boom and crash of applause.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Antonio, it carries me clear out of myself just to hear
+you tell it; it must have been perfectly splendid. If I
+live, I&rsquo;ll see a bull-fight yet before I die. Did
+they kill him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh yes; that is what the bull is for. They tired
+him out, and got him at last. He kept rushing the matador,
+who always slipped smartly and gracefully aside in time, waiting
+for a sure chance; and at last it came; the bull made a deadly
+plunge for him&mdash;was avoided neatly, and as he sped by, the
+long sword glided silently into him, between left shoulder and
+spine&mdash;in and in, to the hilt. He crumpled down,
+dying.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, Antonio, it <i>is</i> the noblest sport that ever
+was. I would give a year of my life to see it. Is the
+bull always killed?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. Sometimes a bull is timid, finding himself
+in so strange a place, and he stands trembling, or tries to
+retreat. Then everybody despises him for his cowardice and
+wants him punished and made ridiculous; so they hough him from
+behind, and it is the funniest thing in the world to see him
+hobbling around on his severed legs; the whole vast house goes
+into hurricanes of laughter over it; I have laughed till the
+tears ran down my cheeks to see it. When he has furnished
+all the sport he can, he is not any longer useful, and is
+killed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it is perfectly grand, Antonio, perfectly
+beautiful. Burning a nigger don&rsquo;t begin.&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page129"></a>XII<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">MONGREL AND THE OTHER HORSE</span></h2>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Sage-Brush</span>, you have been
+listening?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it strange?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, no, Mongrel, I don&rsquo;t know that it
+is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve seen a good many human beings in my
+time. They are created as they are; they cannot help
+it. They are only brutal because that is their make; brutes
+would be brutal if it was <i>their</i> make.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To me, Sage-Brush, man is most strange and
+unaccountable. Why should he treat dumb animals that way
+when they are not doing any harm?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Man is not always like that, Mongrel; he is kind enough
+when he is not excited by religion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is the bull-fight a religious service?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think so. I have heard so. It is held on
+Sunday.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>(<i>A reflective pause</i>, <i>lasting some
+moments</i>.) Then:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When we die, Sage-Brush, do we go to heaven and dwell
+with man?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My father thought not. He believed we do not have
+to go there unless we deserve it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>Part II<br />
+IN SPAIN</h2>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page133"></a>XIII<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">GENERAL ALISON TO HIS MOTHER</span></h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was a prodigious trip, but
+delightful, of course, through the Rockies and the Black Hills
+and the mighty sweep of the Great Plains to civilization and the
+Missouri border&mdash;where the railroading began and the
+delightfulness ended. But no one is the worse for the
+journey; certainly not Cathy, nor Dorcas, nor Soldier Boy; and as
+for me, I am not complaining.</p>
+
+<p>Spain is all that Cathy had pictured it&mdash;and more, she
+says. She is in a fury of delight, the maddest little
+animal that ever was, and all for joy. She thinks she
+remembers Spain, but that is not very likely, I suppose.
+The two&mdash;Mercedes and Cathy&mdash;devour each other.
+It is a rapture of love, and beautiful to see. It is
+Spanish; that describes it. Will this be a short visit?</p>
+
+<p>No. It will be permanent. Cathy has elected to
+abide with Spain and her aunt. Dorcas says she (Dorcas)
+foresaw that this would happen; and also says that she wanted it
+to happen, and says the child&rsquo;s own country is the right
+place for her, and that she ought not to have been sent to me, I
+ought to have gone to her. I thought it insane to take
+Soldier Boy to Spain, but it was well that I yielded to
+Cathy&rsquo;s pleadings; if he had been left behind, half of her
+heart would have remained with him, and she would not have been
+contented. As it is, everything has fallen out for the
+best, and we are all satisfied and comfortable. It may be
+that Dorcas and I will see America again some day; but also it is
+a case of maybe not.</p>
+
+<p>We left the post in the early morning. It was an
+affecting time. The women cried over Cathy, so did even
+those stern warriors, the Rocky Mountain Rangers; Shekels was
+there, and the Cid, and Sardanapalus, and Potter, and Mongrel,
+and Sour-Mash, Famine, and Pestilence, and Cathy kissed them all
+and wept; details of the several arms of the garrison were
+present to represent the rest, and say good-bye and God bless you
+for all the soldiery; and there was a special squad from the
+Seventh, with the oldest veteran at its head, to speed the
+Seventh&rsquo;s Child with grand honors and impressive
+ceremonies; and the veteran had a touching speech by heart, and
+put up his hand in salute and tried to say it, but his lips
+trembled and his voice broke, but Cathy bent down from the saddle
+and kissed him on the mouth and turned his defeat to victory, and
+a cheer went up.</p>
+
+<p>The next act closed the ceremonies, and was a moving
+surprise. It may be that you have discovered, before this,
+that the rigors of military law and custom melt insensibly away
+and disappear when a soldier or a regiment or the garrison wants
+to do something that will please Cathy. The bands conceived
+the idea of stirring her soldierly heart with a farewell which
+would remain in her memory always, beautiful and unfading, and
+bring back the past and its love for her whenever she should
+think of it; so they got their project placed before General
+Burnaby, my successor, who is Cathy&rsquo;s newest slave, and in
+spite of poverty of precedents they got his permission. The
+bands knew the child&rsquo;s favorite military airs. By
+this hint you know what is coming, but Cathy didn&rsquo;t.
+She was asked to sound the &ldquo;reveille,&rdquo; which she
+did.</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/p138b.jpg">
+<img alt="Reveille [music score]"
+title="Reveille [music score]"
+ src="images/p138s.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>With the last note the bands burst out with a crash: and woke
+the mountains with the &ldquo;Star-Spangled Banner&rdquo; in a
+way to make a body&rsquo;s heart swell and thump and his hair
+rise! It was enough to break a person all up, to see
+Cathy&rsquo;s radiant face shining out through her gladness and
+tears. By request she blew the &ldquo;assembly,&rdquo; now.
+. . .</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/p139ab.jpg">
+<img alt="The Assembly [music score]"
+title="The Assembly [music score]"
+ src="images/p139as.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>. . . Then the bands thundered in, with &ldquo;Rally round the
+flag, boys, rally once again!&rdquo; Next, she blew another
+call (&ldquo;to the Standard&rdquo;) . . .</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/p139bb.jpg">
+<img alt="To the Standard [music score]"
+title="To the Standard [music score]"
+ src="images/p139bs.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>. . . and the bands responded with &ldquo;When we were
+marching through Georgia.&rdquo; Straightway she sounded
+&ldquo;boots and saddles,&rdquo; that thrilling and most
+expediting call. . . .</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/p140b.jpg">
+<img alt="Boots and Saddles [music score]"
+title="Boots and Saddles [music score]"
+ src="images/p140s.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>and the bands could hardly hold in for the final note; then
+they turned their whole strength loose on &ldquo;Tramp, tramp,
+tramp, the boys are marching,&rdquo; and everybody&rsquo;s
+excitement rose to blood-heat.</p>
+
+<p>Now an impressive pause&mdash;then the bugle sang &ldquo;<span
+class="smcap">Taps</span>&rdquo;&mdash;translatable, this time,
+into &ldquo;Good-bye, and God keep us all!&rdquo; for taps is the
+soldier&rsquo;s nightly release from duty, and farewell:
+plaintive, sweet, pathetic, for the morning is never sure, for
+him; always it is possible that he is hearing it for the last
+time. . . .</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/p141b.jpg">
+<img alt="Taps [music score]"
+title="Taps [music score]"
+ src="images/p141s.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>. . . Then the bands turned their instruments towards Cathy
+and burst in with that rollicking frenzy of a tune, &ldquo;Oh,
+we&rsquo;ll all get blind drunk when Johnny comes marching
+home&mdash;yes, we&rsquo;ll all get blind drunk when Johnny comes
+marching home!&rdquo; and followed it instantly with
+&ldquo;Dixie,&rdquo; that antidote for melancholy, merriest and
+gladdest of all military music on any side of the ocean&mdash;and
+that was the end. And so&mdash;farewell!</p>
+
+<p>I wish you could have been there to see it all, hear it all,
+and feel it: and get yourself blown away with the hurricane huzza
+that swept the place as a finish.</p>
+
+<p>When we rode away, our main body had already been on the road
+an hour or two&mdash;I speak of our camp equipage; but we
+didn&rsquo;t move off alone: when Cathy blew the
+&ldquo;advance&rdquo; the Rangers cantered out in column of
+fours, and gave us escort, and were joined by White Cloud and
+Thunder-Bird in all their gaudy bravery, and by Buffalo Bill and
+four subordinate scouts. Three miles away, in the Plains,
+the Lieutenant-General halted, sat her horse like a military
+statue, the bugle at her lips, and put the Rangers through the
+evolutions for half an hour; and finally, when she blew the
+&ldquo;charge,&rdquo; she led it herself. &ldquo;Not for
+the last time,&rdquo; she said, and got a cheer, and we said
+good-bye all around, and faced eastward and rode away.</p>
+
+<p><i>Postscript</i>. <i>A Day Later</i>. Soldier Boy
+was stolen last night. Cathy is almost beside herself, and
+we cannot comfort her. Mercedes and I are not much alarmed
+about the horse, although this part of Spain is in something of a
+turmoil, politically, at present, and there is a good deal of
+lawlessness. In ordinary times the thief and the horse
+would soon be captured. We shall have them before long, I
+think.</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page145"></a>XIV<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">SOLDIER BOY&mdash;TO HIMSELF</span></h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is five months. Or is it
+six? My troubles have clouded my memory. I have been
+all over this land, from end to end, and now I am back again
+since day before yesterday, to that city which we passed through,
+that last day of our long journey, and which is near her country
+home. I am a tottering ruin and my eyes are dim, but I
+recognized it. If she could see me she would know me and
+sound my call. I wish I could hear it once more; it would
+revive me, it would bring back her face and the mountains and the
+free life, and I would come&mdash;if I were dying I would
+come! She would not know <i>me</i>, looking as I do, but
+she would know me by my star. But she will never see me,
+for they do not let me out of this shabby stable&mdash;a foul and
+miserable place, with most two wrecks like myself for
+company.</p>
+
+<p>How many times have I changed hands? I think it is
+twelve times&mdash;I cannot remember; and each time it was down a
+step lower, and each time I got a harder master. They have
+been cruel, every one; they have worked me night and day in
+degraded employments, and beaten me; they have fed me ill, and
+some days not at all. And so I am but bones, now, with a
+rough and frowsy skin humped and cornered upon my shrunken
+body&mdash;that skin which was once so glossy, that skin which
+she loved to stroke with her hand. I was the pride of the
+mountains and the Great Plains; now I am a scarecrow and
+despised. These piteous wrecks that are my comrades here
+say we have reached the bottom of the scale, the final
+humiliation; they say that when a horse is no longer worth the
+weeds and discarded rubbish they feed to him, they sell him to
+the bull-ring for a glass of brandy, to make sport for the people
+and perish for their pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>To die&mdash;that does not disturb me; we of the service never
+care for death. But if I could see her once more! if I
+could hear her bugle sing again and say, &ldquo;It is I,
+Soldier&mdash;come!&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page149"></a>XV<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">GENERAL ALISON TO MRS. DRAKE, THE
+COLONEL&rsquo;S WIFE</span></h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">To</span> return, now, to where I was, and
+tell you the rest. We shall never know how she came to be
+there; there is no way to account for it. She was always
+watching for black and shiny and spirited horses&mdash;watching,
+hoping, despairing, hoping again; always giving chase and
+sounding her call, upon the meagrest chance of a response, and
+breaking her heart over the disappointment; always inquiring,
+always interested in sales-stables and horse accumulations in
+general. How she got there must remain a mystery.</p>
+
+<p>At the point which I had reached in a preceding paragraph of
+this account, the situation was as follows: two horses lay dying;
+the bull had scattered his persecutors for the moment, and stood
+raging, panting, pawing the dust in clouds over his back, when
+the man that had been wounded returned to the ring on a remount,
+a poor blindfolded wreck that yet had something ironically
+military about his bearing&mdash;and the next moment the bull had
+ripped him open and his bowls were dragging upon the ground: and
+the bull was charging his swarm of pests again. Then came
+pealing through the air a bugle-call that froze my
+blood&mdash;&ldquo;<i>It is I</i>,
+<i>Soldier&mdash;come</i>!&rdquo; I turned; Cathy was
+flying down through the massed people; she cleared the parapet at
+a bound, and sped towards that riderless horse, who staggered
+forward towards the remembered sound; but his strength failed,
+and he fell at her feet, she lavishing kisses upon him and
+sobbing, the house rising with one impulse, and white with
+horror! Before help could reach her the bull was back
+again&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a name="image150" href="images/p150b.jpg">
+<img alt="His strength failed, and he fell at her feet"
+title="His strength failed, and he fell at her feet"
+ src="images/p150s.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>She was never conscious again in life. We bore her home,
+all mangled and drenched in blood, and knelt by her and listened
+to her broken and wandering words, and prayed for her passing
+spirit, and there was no comfort&mdash;nor ever will be, I
+think. But she was happy, for she was far away under
+another sky, and comrading again with her Rangers, and her animal
+friends, and the soldiers. Their names fell softly and
+caressingly from her lips, one by one, with pauses between.
+She was not in pain, but lay with closed eyes, vacantly
+murmuring, as one who dreams. Sometimes she smiled, saying
+nothing; sometimes she smiled when she uttered a name&mdash;such
+as Shekels, or BB, or Potter. Sometimes she was at her
+fort, issuing commands; sometimes she was careering over the
+plain at the head of her men; sometimes she was training her
+horse; once she said, reprovingly, &ldquo;You are giving me the
+wrong foot; give me the left&mdash;don&rsquo;t you know it is
+good-bye?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>After this, she lay silent some time; the end was near.
+By-and-by she murmured, &ldquo;Tired . . . sleepy . . . take
+Cathy, mamma.&rdquo; Then, &ldquo;Kiss me,
+Soldier.&rdquo; For a little time, she lay so still that we
+were doubtful if she breathed. Then she put out her hand
+and began to feel gropingly about; then said, &ldquo;I cannot
+find it; blow &lsquo;taps.&rsquo;&rdquo; It was the
+end.</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/p153b.jpg">
+<img alt="Taps [music score]"
+title="Taps [music score]"
+ src="images/p153s.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2>
+
+<p class="footnote">
+<a name="footnote80"></a><a href="#citation80">[80]</a> At West Point the bugle
+is supposed to be saying:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t get &rsquo;em up,<br />
+I can&rsquo;t get &rsquo;em up,<br />
+I can&rsquo;t get &rsquo;em up in the morning!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1086 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #1086 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1086)
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Horse’s Tale, by Mark Twain
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: A Horse’s Tale
+
+Author: Mark Twain
+
+Illustrator: Lucius Hitchcock
+
+Release Date: October 21, 1997 [eBook #1086]
+[Most recently updated: August 26, 2021]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+Produced by: David Price
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A HORSE’S TALE ***
+
+
+
+
+                          [Picture: Book cover]
+
+ [Picture: “Buffalo Bill took me on Soldier Boy to Thunder-Bird’s Camp”]
+
+
+
+
+
+                              A Horse’s Tale
+
+
+                                    BY
+                                Mark Twain
+
+                              ILLUSTRATED BY
+                             LUCIUS HITCHCOCK
+
+                      [Picture: Decorative graphic]
+
+                           LONDON AND NEW YORK
+                            HARPER & BROTHERS
+                           PUBLISHERS .. MCMVII
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                Copyright, 1906, by Harper & Brothers.
+
+                               * * * * *
+
+                         _All rights reserved_
+
+                       Published October, 1907.
+
+                  _Printed in United States of America_.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+CHAP.                                                             PAGE
+       I.  SOLDIER BOY—PRIVATELY TO HIMSELF                          1
+      II.  LETTER FROM ROUEN—TO GENERAL ALISON                      12
+     III.  GENERAL ALISON TO HIS MOTHER                             19
+      IV.  CATHY TO HER AUNT MERCEDES                               25
+       V.  GENERAL ALISON TO MERCEDES                               33
+      VI.  SOLDIER BOY AND THE MEXICAN PLUG                         56
+     VII.  SOLDIER BOY AND SHEKELS                                  82
+    VIII.  THE SCOUT-START.  BB AND LIEUTENANT-GENERAL              88
+           ALISON
+      IX.  SOLDIER BOY AND SHEKELS AGAIN                            90
+       X.  GENERAL ALISON AND DORCAS                               100
+      XI.  SEVERAL MONTHS LATER.  ANTONIO AND THORNDIKE            116
+     XII.  MONGREL AND THE OTHER HORSE                             129
+    XIII.  GENERAL ALISON TO HIS MOTHER                            133
+     XIV.  SOLDIER BOY—TO HIMSELF                                  145
+      XV.  GENERAL ALISON TO MRS. DRAKE, THE COLONEL’S WIFE        149
+
+
+
+
+Illustrations
+
+“Buffalo Bill took me on Soldier Boy to                 _Frontispiece_
+Thunder-Bird’s Camp”
+“Look at that file of cats in your chair”                        p. 48
+“Every morning they go clattering down into the                     66
+plain”
+“There was nothing to do but stand by”                              92
+“His strength failed and he fell at her feet”                      150
+
+
+
+
+Acknowledgements
+
+
+Although I have had several opportunities to see a bull-fight, I have
+never seen one; but I needed a bull-fight in this book, and a trustworthy
+one will be found in it.  I got it out of John Hay’s _Castilian Days_,
+reducing and condensing it to fit the requirements of this small story.
+Mr. Hay and I were friends from early times, and if he were still with us
+he would not rebuke me for the liberty I have taken.
+
+The knowledge of military minutiæ exhibited in this book will be found to
+be correct, but it is not mine; I took it from _Army Regulations_, ed.
+1904; _Hardy’s Tactics_—_Cavalry_, revised ed., 1861; and _Jomini’s
+Handbook of Military Etiquette_, West Point ed., 1905.
+
+It would not be honest in me to encourage by silence the inference that I
+composed the Horse’s private bugle-call, for I did not.  I lifted it, as
+Aristotle says.  It is the opening strain in _The Pizzicato_ in _Sylvia_,
+by Delibes.  When that master was composing it he did not know it was a
+bugle-call, it was I that found it out.
+
+Along through the book I have distributed a few anachronisms and unborn
+historical incidents and such things, so as to help the tale over the
+difficult places.  This idea is not original with me; I got it out of
+Herodotus.  Herodotus says, “Very few things happen at the right time,
+and the rest do not happen at all: the conscientious historian will
+correct these defects.”
+
+The cats in the chair do not belong to me, but to another.
+
+These are all the exceptions.  What is left of the book is mine.
+
+                                                               MARK TWAIN.
+
+LONE TREE HILL, DUBLIN,
+NEW HAMPSHIRE, _October_, 1905.
+
+
+
+
+Part I
+
+
+I
+SOLDIER BOY—PRIVATELY TO HIMSELF
+
+
+I AM Buffalo Bill’s horse.  I have spent my life under his saddle—with
+him in it, too, and he is good for two hundred pounds, without his
+clothes; and there is no telling how much he does weigh when he is out on
+the war-path and has his batteries belted on.  He is over six feet, is
+young, hasn’t an ounce of waste flesh, is straight, graceful, springy in
+his motions, quick as a cat, and has a handsome face, and black hair
+dangling down on his shoulders, and is beautiful to look at; and nobody
+is braver than he is, and nobody is stronger, except myself.  Yes, a
+person that doubts that he is fine to see should see him in his beaded
+buck-skins, on my back and his rifle peeping above his shoulder, chasing
+a hostile trail, with me going like the wind and his hair streaming out
+behind from the shelter of his broad slouch.  Yes, he is a sight to look
+at then—and I’m part of it myself.
+
+I am his favorite horse, out of dozens.  Big as he is, I have carried him
+eighty-one miles between nightfall and sunrise on the scout; and I am
+good for fifty, day in and day out, and all the time.  I am not large,
+but I am built on a business basis.  I have carried him thousands and
+thousands of miles on scout duty for the army, and there’s not a gorge,
+nor a pass, nor a valley, nor a fort, nor a trading post, nor a
+buffalo-range in the whole sweep of the Rocky Mountains and the Great
+Plains that we don’t know as well as we know the bugle-calls.  He is
+Chief of Scouts to the Army of the Frontier, and it makes us very
+important.  In such a position as I hold in the military service one
+needs to be of good family and possess an education much above the common
+to be worthy of the place.  I am the best-educated horse outside of the
+hippodrome, everybody says, and the best-mannered.  It may be so, it is
+not for me to say; modesty is the best policy, I think.  Buffalo Bill
+taught me the most of what I know, my mother taught me much, and I taught
+myself the rest.  Lay a row of moccasins before me—Pawnee, Sioux,
+Shoshone, Cheyenne, Blackfoot, and as many other tribes as you please—and
+I can name the tribe every moccasin belongs to by the make of it.  Name
+it in horse-talk, and could do it in American if I had speech.
+
+I know some of the Indian signs—the signs they make with their hands, and
+by signal-fires at night and columns of smoke by day.  Buffalo Bill
+taught me how to drag wounded soldiers out of the line of fire with my
+teeth; and I’ve done it, too; at least I’ve dragged _him_ out of the
+battle when he was wounded.  And not just once, but twice.  Yes, I know a
+lot of things.  I remember forms, and gaits, and faces; and you can’t
+disguise a person that’s done me a kindness so that I won’t know him
+thereafter wherever I find him.  I know the art of searching for a trail,
+and I know the stale track from the fresh.  I can keep a trail all by
+myself, with Buffalo Bill asleep in the saddle; ask him—he will tell you
+so.  Many a time, when he has ridden all night, he has said to me at
+dawn, “Take the watch, Boy; if the trail freshens, call me.”  Then he
+goes to sleep.  He knows he can trust me, because I have a reputation.  A
+scout horse that has a reputation does not play with it.
+
+My mother was all American—no alkali-spider about _her_, I can tell you;
+she was of the best blood of Kentucky, the bluest Blue-grass aristocracy,
+very proud and acrimonious—or maybe it is ceremonious.  I don’t know
+which it is.  But it is no matter; size is the main thing about a word,
+and that one’s up to standard.  She spent her military life as colonel of
+the Tenth Dragoons, and saw a deal of rough service—distinguished service
+it was, too.  I mean, she _carried_ the Colonel; but it’s all the same.
+Where would he be without his horse?  He wouldn’t arrive.  It takes two
+to make a colonel of dragoons.  She was a fine dragoon horse, but never
+got above that.  She was strong enough for the scout service, and had the
+endurance, too, but she couldn’t quite come up to the speed required; a
+scout horse has to have steel in his muscle and lightning in his blood.
+
+My father was a bronco.  Nothing as to lineage—that is, nothing as to
+recent lineage—but plenty good enough when you go a good way back.  When
+Professor Marsh was out here hunting bones for the chapel of Yale
+University he found skeletons of horses no bigger than a fox, bedded in
+the rocks, and he said they were ancestors of my father.  My mother heard
+him say it; and he said those skeletons were two million years old, which
+astonished her and made her Kentucky pretensions look small and pretty
+antiphonal, not to say oblique.  Let me see. . . . I used to know the
+meaning of those words, but . . . well, it was years ago, and ’tisn’t as
+vivid now as it was when they were fresh.  That sort of words doesn’t
+keep, in the kind of climate we have out here.  Professor Marsh said
+those skeletons were fossils.  So that makes me part blue grass and part
+fossil; if there is any older or better stock, you will have to look for
+it among the Four Hundred, I reckon.  I am satisfied with it.  And am a
+happy horse, too, though born out of wedlock.
+
+And now we are back at Fort Paxton once more, after a forty-day scout,
+away up as far as the Big Horn.  Everything quiet.  Crows and Blackfeet
+squabbling—as usual—but no outbreaks, and settlers feeling fairly easy.
+
+The Seventh Cavalry still in garrison, here; also the Ninth Dragoons, two
+artillery companies, and some infantry.  All glad to see me, including
+General Alison, commandant.  The officers’ ladies and children well, and
+called upon me—with sugar.  Colonel Drake, Seventh Cavalry, said some
+pleasant things; Mrs. Drake was very complimentary; also Captain and Mrs.
+Marsh, Company B, Seventh Cavalry; also the Chaplain, who is always kind
+and pleasant to me, because I kicked the lungs out of a trader once.  It
+was Tommy Drake and Fanny Marsh that furnished the sugar—nice children,
+the nicest at the post, I think.
+
+That poor orphan child is on her way from France—everybody is full of the
+subject.  Her father was General Alison’s brother; married a beautiful
+young Spanish lady ten years ago, and has never been in America since.
+They lived in Spain a year or two, then went to France.  Both died some
+months ago.  This little girl that is coming is the only child.  General
+Alison is glad to have her.  He has never seen her.  He is a very nice
+old bachelor, but is an old bachelor just the same and isn’t more than
+about a year this side of retirement by age limit; and so what does he
+know about taking care of a little maid nine years old?  If I could have
+her it would be another matter, for I know all about children, and they
+adore me.  Buffalo Bill will tell you so himself.
+
+I have some of this news from over-hearing the garrison-gossip, the rest
+of it I got from Potter, the General’s dog.  Potter is the great Dane.
+He is privileged, all over the post, like Shekels, the Seventh Cavalry’s
+dog, and visits everybody’s quarters and picks up everything that is
+going, in the way of news.  Potter has no imagination, and no great deal
+of culture, perhaps, but he has a historical mind and a good memory, and
+so he is the person I depend upon mainly to post me up when I get back
+from a scout.  That is, if Shekels is out on depredation and I can’t get
+hold of him.
+
+
+
+II
+LETTER FROM ROUEN—TO GENERAL ALISON
+
+
+_MY dear Brother-in-Law_,—Please let me write again in Spanish, I cannot
+trust my English, and I am aware, from what your brother used to say,
+that army officers educated at the Military Academy of the United States
+are taught our tongue.  It is as I told you in my other letter: both my
+poor sister and her husband, when they found they could not recover,
+expressed the wish that you should have their little Catherine—as knowing
+that you would presently be retired from the army—rather than that she
+should remain with me, who am broken in health, or go to your mother in
+California, whose health is also frail.
+
+You do not know the child, therefore I must tell you something about her.
+You will not be ashamed of her looks, for she is a copy in little of her
+beautiful mother—and it is that Andalusian beauty which is not
+surpassable, even in your country.  She has her mother’s charm and grace
+and good heart and sense of justice, and she has her father’s vivacity
+and cheerfulness and pluck and spirit of enterprise, with the
+affectionate disposition and sincerity of both parents.
+
+My sister pined for her Spanish home all these years of exile; she was
+always talking of Spain to the child, and tending and nourishing the love
+of Spain in the little thing’s heart as a precious flower; and she died
+happy in the knowledge that the fruitage of her patriotic labors was as
+rich as even she could desire.
+
+Cathy is a sufficiently good little scholar, for her nine years; her
+mother taught her Spanish herself, and kept it always fresh upon her ear
+and her tongue by hardly ever speaking with her in any other tongue; her
+father was her English teacher, and talked with her in that language
+almost exclusively; French has been her everyday speech for more than
+seven years among her playmates here; she has a good working use of
+governess—German and Italian.  It is true that there is always a faint
+foreign fragrance about her speech, no matter what language she is
+talking, but it is only just noticeable, nothing more, and is rather a
+charm than a mar, I think.  In the ordinary child-studies Cathy is
+neither before nor behind the average child of nine, I should say.  But I
+can say this for her: in love for her friends and in high-mindedness and
+good-heartedness she has not many equals, and in my opinion no superiors.
+And I beg of you, let her have her way with the dumb animals—they are her
+worship.  It is an inheritance from her mother.  She knows but little of
+cruelties and oppressions—keep them from her sight if you can.  She would
+flare up at them and make trouble, in her small but quite decided and
+resolute way; for she has a character of her own, and lacks neither
+promptness nor initiative.  Sometimes her judgment is at fault, but I
+think her intentions are always right.  Once when she was a little
+creature of three or four years she suddenly brought her tiny foot down
+upon the floor in an apparent outbreak of indignation, then fetched it a
+backward wipe, and stooped down to examine the result.  Her mother said:
+
+“Why, what is it, child?  What has stirred you so?”
+
+“Mamma, the big ant was trying to kill the little one.”
+
+“And so you protected the little one.”
+
+“Yes, mamma, because he had no friend, and I wouldn’t let the big one
+kill him.”
+
+“But you have killed them both.”
+
+Cathy was distressed, and her lip trembled.  She picked up the remains
+and laid them upon her palm, and said:
+
+“Poor little anty, I’m so sorry; and I didn’t mean to kill you, but there
+wasn’t any other way to save you, it was such a hurry.”
+
+She is a dear and sweet little lady, and when she goes it will give me a
+sore heart.  But she will be happy with you, and if your heart is old and
+tired, give it into her keeping; she will make it young again, she will
+refresh it, she will make it sing.  Be good to her, for all our sakes!
+
+My exile will soon be over now.  As soon as I am a little stronger I
+shall see my Spain again; and that will make me young again!
+
+                                                                 MERCEDES.
+
+
+
+III
+GENERAL ALISON TO HIS MOTHER
+
+
+I AM glad to know that you are all well, in San Bernardino.
+
+. . . That grandchild of yours has been here—well, I do not quite know
+how many days it is; nobody can keep account of days or anything else
+where she is!  Mother, she did what the Indians were never able to do.
+She took the Fort—took it the first day!  Took me, too; took the
+colonels, the captains, the women, the children, and the dumb brutes;
+took Buffalo Bill, and all his scouts; took the garrison—to the last man;
+and in forty-eight hours the Indian encampment was hers, illustrious old
+Thunder-Bird and all.  Do I seem to have lost my solemnity, my gravity,
+my poise, my dignity?  You would lose your own, in my circumstances.
+Mother, you never saw such a winning little devil.  She is all energy,
+and spirit, and sunshine, and interest in everybody and everything, and
+pours out her prodigal love upon every creature that will take it, high
+or low, Christian or pagan, feathered or furred; and none has declined it
+to date, and none ever will, I think.  But she has a temper, and
+sometimes it catches fire and flames up, and is likely to burn whatever
+is near it; but it is soon over, the passion goes as quickly as it comes.
+Of course she has an Indian name already; Indians always rechristen a
+stranger early.  Thunder-Bird attended to her case.  He gave her the
+Indian equivalent for firebug, or fire-fly.  He said:
+
+“’Times, ver’ quiet, ver’ soft, like summer night, but when she mad she
+blaze.”
+
+Isn’t it good?  Can’t you see the flare?  She’s beautiful, mother,
+beautiful as a picture; and there is a touch of you in her face, and of
+her father—poor George! and in her unresting activities, and her fearless
+ways, and her sunbursts and cloudbursts, she is always bringing George
+back to me.  These impulsive natures are dramatic.  George was dramatic,
+so is this Lightning-Bug, so is Buffalo Bill.  When Cathy first
+arrived—it was in the forenoon—Buffalo Bill was away, carrying orders to
+Major Fuller, at Five Forks, up in the Clayton Hills.  At mid-afternoon I
+was at my desk, trying to work, and this sprite had been making it
+impossible for half an hour.  At last I said:
+
+“Oh, you bewitching little scamp, _can’t_ you be quiet just a minute or
+two, and let your poor old uncle attend to a part of his duties?”
+
+“I’ll try, uncle; I will, indeed,” she said.
+
+“Well, then, that’s a good child—kiss me.  Now, then, sit up in that
+chair, and set your eye on that clock.  There—that’s right.  If you
+stir—if you so much as wink—for four whole minutes, I’ll bite you!”
+
+It was very sweet and humble and obedient she looked, sitting there,
+still as a mouse; I could hardly keep from setting her free and telling
+her to make as much racket as she wanted to.  During as much as two
+minutes there was a most unnatural and heavenly quiet and repose, then
+Buffalo Bill came thundering up to the door in all his scout finery,
+flung himself out of the saddle, said to his horse, “Wait for me, Boy,”
+and stepped in, and stopped dead in his tracks—gazing at the child.  She
+forgot orders, and was on the floor in a moment, saying:
+
+“Oh, you are so beautiful!  Do you like me?”
+
+“No, I don’t, I love you!” and he gathered her up with a hug, and then
+set her on his shoulder—apparently nine feet from the floor.
+
+She was at home.  She played with his long hair, and admired his big
+hands and his clothes and his carbine, and asked question after question,
+as fast as he could answer, until I excused them both for half an hour,
+in order to have a chance to finish my work.  Then I heard Cathy
+exclaiming over Soldier Boy; and he was worthy of her raptures, for he is
+a wonder of a horse, and has a reputation which is as shining as his own
+silken hide.
+
+
+
+IV
+CATHY TO HER AUNT MERCEDES
+
+
+OH, it is wonderful here, aunty dear, just paradise!  Oh, if you could
+only see it! everything so wild and lovely; such grand plains, stretching
+such miles and miles and miles, all the most delicious velvety sand and
+sage-brush, and rabbits as big as a dog, and such tall and noble
+jackassful ears that that is what they name them by; and such vast
+mountains, and so rugged and craggy and lofty, with cloud-shawls wrapped
+around their shoulders, and looking so solemn and awful and satisfied;
+and the charming Indians, oh, how you would dote on them, aunty dear, and
+they would on you, too, and they would let you hold their babies, the way
+they do me, and they _are_ the fattest, and brownest, and sweetest little
+things, and never cry, and wouldn’t if they had pins sticking in them,
+which they haven’t, because they are poor and can’t afford it; and the
+horses and mules and cattle and dogs—hundreds and hundreds and hundreds,
+and not an animal that you can’t do what you please with, except uncle
+Thomas, but _I_ don’t mind him, he’s lovely; and oh, if you could hear
+the bugles: _too—too—too-too—too—too_, and so on—perfectly beautiful!  Do
+you recognize that one?  It’s the first toots of the _reveille_; it goes,
+dear me, _so_ early in the morning!—then I and every other soldier on the
+whole place are up and out in a minute, except uncle Thomas, who is most
+unaccountably lazy, I don’t know why, but I have talked to him about it,
+and I reckon it will be better, now.  He hasn’t any faults much, and is
+charming and sweet, like Buffalo Bill, and Thunder-Bird, and Mammy
+Dorcas, and Soldier Boy, and Shekels, and Potter, and Sour-Mash,
+and—well, they’re _all_ that, just angels, as you may say.
+
+The very first day I came, I don’t know how long ago it was, Buffalo Bill
+took me on Soldier Boy to Thunder-Bird’s camp, not the big one which is
+out on the plain, which is White Cloud’s, he took me to _that_ one next
+day, but this one is four or five miles up in the hills and crags, where
+there is a great shut-in meadow, full of Indian lodges and dogs and
+squaws and everything that is interesting, and a brook of the clearest
+water running through it, with white pebbles on the bottom and trees all
+along the banks cool and shady and good to wade in, and as the sun goes
+down it is dimmish in there, but away up against the sky you see the big
+peaks towering up and shining bright and vivid in the sun, and sometimes
+an eagle sailing by them, not flapping a wing, the same as if he was
+asleep; and young Indians and girls romping and laughing and carrying on,
+around the spring and the pool, and not much clothes on except the girls,
+and dogs fighting, and the squaws busy at work, and the bucks busy
+resting, and the old men sitting in a bunch smoking, and passing the pipe
+not to the left but to the right, which means there’s been a row in the
+camp and they are settling it if they can, and children playing _just_
+the same as any other children, and little boys shooting at a mark with
+bows, and I cuffed one of them because he hit a dog with a club that
+wasn’t doing anything, and he resented it but before long he wished he
+hadn’t: but this sentence is getting too long and I will start another.
+Thunder-Bird put on his Sunday-best war outfit to let me see him, and he
+was splendid to look at, with his face painted red and bright and intense
+like a fire-coal and a valance of eagle feathers from the top of his head
+all down his back, and he had his tomahawk, too, and his pipe, which has
+a stem which is longer than my arm, and I never had such a good time in
+an Indian camp in my life, and I learned a lot of words of the language,
+and next day BB took me to the camp out on the Plains, four miles, and I
+had another good time and got acquainted with some more Indians and dogs;
+and the big chief, by the name of White Cloud, gave me a pretty little
+bow and arrows and I gave him my red sash-ribbon, and in four days I
+could shoot very well with it and beat any white boy of my size at the
+post; and I have been to those camps plenty of times since; and I have
+learned to ride, too, BB taught me, and every day he practises me and
+praises me, and every time I do better than ever he lets me have a
+scamper on Soldier Boy, and _that’s_ the last agony of pleasure! for he
+is the charmingest horse, and so beautiful and shiny and black, and
+hasn’t another color on him anywhere, except a white star in his
+forehead, not just an imitation star, but a real one, with four points,
+shaped exactly like a star that’s hand-made, and if you should cover him
+all up but his star you would know him anywhere, even in Jerusalem or
+Australia, by that.  And I got acquainted with a good many of the Seventh
+Cavalry, and the dragoons, and officers, and families, and horses, in the
+first few days, and some more in the next few and the next few and the
+next few, and now I know more soldiers and horses than you can think, no
+matter how hard you try.  I am keeping up my studies every now and then,
+but there isn’t much time for it.  I love you so! and I send you a hug
+and a kiss.
+
+                                                                    CATHY.
+
+P.S.—I belong to the Seventh Cavalry and Ninth Dragoons, I am an officer,
+too, and do not have to work on account of not getting any wages.
+
+
+
+V
+GENERAL ALISON TO MERCEDES
+
+
+SHE has been with us a good nice long time, now.  You are troubled about
+your sprite because this is such a wild frontier, hundreds of miles from
+civilization, and peopled only by wandering tribes of savages?  You fear
+for her safety?  Give yourself no uneasiness about her.  Dear me, she’s
+in a nursery! and she’s got more than eighteen hundred nurses.  It would
+distress the garrison to suspect that you think they can’t take care of
+her.  They think they can.  They would tell you so themselves.  You see,
+the Seventh Cavalry has never had a child of its very own before, and
+neither has the Ninth Dragoons; and so they are like all new mothers,
+they think there is no other child like theirs, no other child so
+wonderful, none that is so worthy to be faithfully and tenderly looked
+after and protected.  These bronzed veterans of mine are very good
+mothers, I think, and wiser than some other mothers; for they let her
+take lots of risks, and it is a good education for her; and the more
+risks she takes and comes successfully out of, the prouder they are of
+her.  They adopted her, with grave and formal military ceremonies of
+their own invention—solemnities is the truer word; solemnities that were
+so profoundly solemn and earnest, that the spectacle would have been
+comical if it hadn’t been so touching.  It was a good show, and as
+stately and complex as guard-mount and the trooping of the colors; and it
+had its own special music, composed for the occasion by the bandmaster of
+the Seventh; and the child was as serious as the most serious war-worn
+soldier of them all; and finally when they throned her upon the shoulder
+of the oldest veteran, and pronounced her “well and truly adopted,” and
+the bands struck up and all saluted and she saluted in return, it was
+better and more moving than any kindred thing I have seen on the stage,
+because stage things are make-believe, but this was real and the players’
+hearts were in it.
+
+It happened several weeks ago, and was followed by some additional
+solemnities.  The men created a couple of new ranks, thitherto unknown to
+the army regulations, and conferred them upon Cathy, with ceremonies
+suitable to a duke.  So now she is Corporal-General of the Seventh
+Cavalry, and Flag-Lieutenant of the Ninth Dragoons, with the privilege
+(decreed by the men) of writing U.S.A. after her name!  Also, they
+presented her a pair of shoulder-straps—both dark blue, the one with F.
+L. on it, the other with C. G.  Also, a sword.  She wears them.  Finally,
+they granted her the _salute_.  I am witness that that ceremony is
+faithfully observed by both parties—and most gravely and decorously, too.
+I have never seen a soldier smile yet, while delivering it, nor Cathy in
+returning it.
+
+Ostensibly I was not present at these proceedings, and am ignorant of
+them; but I was where I could see.  I was afraid of one thing—the
+jealousy of the other children of the post; but there is nothing of that,
+I am glad to say.  On the contrary, they are proud of their comrade and
+her honors.  It is a surprising thing, but it is true.  The children are
+devoted to Cathy, for she has turned their dull frontier life into a sort
+of continuous festival; also they know her for a stanch and steady
+friend, a friend who can always be depended upon, and does not change
+with the weather.
+
+She has become a rather extraordinary rider, under the tutorship of a
+more than extraordinary teacher—BB, which is her pet name for Buffalo
+Bill.  She pronounces it _beeby_.  He has not only taught her seventeen
+ways of breaking her neck, but twenty-two ways of avoiding it.  He has
+infused into her the best and surest protection of a
+horseman—_confidence_.  He did it gradually, systematically, little by
+little, a step at a time, and each step made sure before the next was
+essayed.  And so he inched her along up through terrors that had been
+discounted by training before she reached them, and therefore were not
+recognizable as terrors when she got to them.  Well, she is a daring
+little rider, now, and is perfect in what she knows of horsemanship.
+By-and-by she will know the art like a West Point cadet, and will
+exercise it as fearlessly.  She doesn’t know anything about side-saddles.
+Does that distress you?  And she is a fine performer, without any saddle
+at all.  Does that discomfort you?  Do not let it; she is not in any
+danger, I give you my word.
+
+You said that if my heart was old and tired she would refresh it, and you
+said truly.  I do not know how I got along without her, before.  I was a
+forlorn old tree, but now that this blossoming vine has wound itself
+about me and become the life of my life, it is very different.  As a
+furnisher of business for me and for Mammy Dorcas she is exhaustlessly
+competent, but I like my share of it and of course Dorcas likes hers, for
+Dorcas “raised” George, and Cathy is George over again in so many ways
+that she brings back Dorcas’s youth and the joys of that long-vanished
+time.  My father tried to set Dorcas free twenty years ago, when we still
+lived in Virginia, but without success; she considered herself a member
+of the family, and wouldn’t go.  And so, a member of the family she
+remained, and has held that position unchallenged ever since, and holds
+it now; for when my mother sent her here from San Bernardino when we
+learned that Cathy was coming, she only changed from one division of the
+family to the other.  She has the warm heart of her race, and its lavish
+affections, and when Cathy arrived the pair were mother and child in five
+minutes, and that is what they are to date and will continue.  Dorcas
+really thinks she raised George, and that is one of her prides, but
+perhaps it was a mutual raising, for their ages were the same—thirteen
+years short of mine.  But they were playmates, at any rate; as regards
+that, there is no room for dispute.
+
+Cathy thinks Dorcas is the best Catholic in America except herself.  She
+could not pay any one a higher compliment than that, and Dorcas could not
+receive one that would please her better.  Dorcas is satisfied that there
+has never been a more wonderful child than Cathy.  She has conceived the
+curious idea that Cathy is _twins_, and that one of them is a boy-twin
+and failed to get segregated—got submerged, is the idea.  To argue with
+her that this is nonsense is a waste of breath—her mind is made up, and
+arguments do not affect it.  She says:
+
+“Look at her; she loves dolls, and girl-plays, and everything a girl
+loves, and she’s gentle and sweet, and ain’t cruel to dumb brutes—now
+that’s the girl-twin, but she loves boy-plays, and drums and fifes and
+soldiering, and rough-riding, and ain’t afraid of anybody or anything—and
+that’s the boy-twin; ’deed you needn’t tell _me_ she’s only _one_ child;
+no, sir, she’s twins, and one of them got shet up out of sight.  Out of
+sight, but that don’t make any difference, that boy is in there, and you
+can see him look out of her eyes when her temper is up.”
+
+Then Dorcas went on, in her simple and earnest way, to furnish
+illustrations.
+
+“Look at that raven, Marse Tom.  Would anybody befriend a raven but that
+child?  Of course they wouldn’t; it ain’t natural.  Well, the Injun boy
+had the raven tied up, and was all the time plaguing it and starving it,
+and she pitied the po’ thing, and tried to buy it from the boy, and the
+tears was in her eyes.  That was the girl-twin, you see.  She offered him
+her thimble, and he flung it down; she offered him all the doughnuts she
+had, which was two, and he flung them down; she offered him half a paper
+of pins, worth forty ravens, and he made a mouth at her and jabbed one of
+them in the raven’s back.  That was the limit, you know.  It called for
+the other twin.  Her eyes blazed up, and she jumped for him like a
+wild-cat, and when she was done with him she was rags and he wasn’t
+anything but an allegory.  That was most undoubtedly the other twin, you
+see, coming to the front.  No, sir; don’t tell _me_ he ain’t in there.
+I’ve seen him with my own eyes—and plenty of times, at that.”
+
+“Allegory?  What is an allegory?”
+
+“I don’t know, Marse Tom, it’s one of her words; she loves the big ones,
+you know, and I pick them up from her; they sound good and I can’t help
+it.”
+
+“What happened after she had converted the boy into an allegory?”
+
+“Why, she untied the raven and confiscated him by force and fetched him
+home, and left the doughnuts and things on the ground.  Petted him, of
+course, like she does with every creature.  In two days she had him so
+stuck after her that she—well, _you_ know how he follows her everywhere,
+and sets on her shoulder often when she rides her breakneck rampages—all
+of which is the girl-twin to the front, you see—and he does what he
+pleases, and is up to all kinds of devilment, and is a perfect nuisance
+in the kitchen.  Well, they all stand it, but they wouldn’t if it was
+another person’s bird.”
+
+Here she began to chuckle comfortably, and presently she said:
+
+“Well, you know, she’s a nuisance herself, Miss Cathy is, she _is_ so
+busy, and into everything, like that bird.  It’s all just as innocent,
+you know, and she don’t mean any harm, and is so good and dear; and it
+ain’t her fault, it’s her nature; her interest is always a-working and
+always red-hot, and she can’t keep quiet.  Well, yesterday it was
+‘Please, Miss Cathy, don’t do that’; and, ‘Please, Miss Cathy, let that
+alone’; and, ‘Please, Miss Cathy, don’t make so much noise’; and so on
+and so on, till I reckon I had found fault fourteen times in fifteen
+minutes; then she looked up at me with her big brown eyes that can plead
+so, and said in that odd little foreign way that goes to your heart,
+
+“’Please, mammy, make me a compliment.”
+
+“And of course you did it, you old fool?”
+
+“Marse Tom, I just grabbed her up to my breast and says, ‘Oh, you po’
+dear little motherless thing, you ain’t got a fault in the world, and you
+can do anything you want to, and tear the house down, and yo’ old black
+mammy won’t say a word!’”
+
+“Why, of course, of course—_I_ knew you’d spoil the child.”
+
+She brushed away her tears, and said with dignity:
+
+“Spoil the child? spoil _that_ child, Marse Tom?  There can’t _anybody_
+spoil her.  She’s the king bee of this post, and everybody pets her and
+is her slave, and yet, as you know, your own self, she ain’t the least
+little bit spoiled.”  Then she eased her mind with this retort: “Marse
+Tom, she makes you do anything she wants to, and you can’t deny it; so if
+she could be spoilt, she’d been spoilt long ago, because you are the very
+_worst_!  Look at that pile of cats in your chair, and you sitting on a
+candle-box, just as patient; it’s because they’re her cats.”
+
+          [Picture: “‘Look at that pile of cats in your chair’”]
+
+If Dorcas were a soldier, I could punish her for such large frankness as
+that.  I changed the subject, and made her resume her illustrations.  She
+had scored against me fairly, and I wasn’t going to cheapen her victory
+by disputing it.  She proceeded to offer this incident in evidence on her
+twin theory:
+
+“Two weeks ago when she got her finger mashed open, she turned pretty
+pale with the pain, but she never said a word.  I took her in my lap, and
+the surgeon sponged off the blood and took a needle and thread and began
+to sew it up; it had to have a lot of stitches, and each one made her
+scrunch a little, but she never let go a sound.  At last the surgeon was
+so full of admiration that he said, ‘Well, you _are_ a brave little
+thing!’ and she said, just as ca’m and simple as if she was talking about
+the weather, ‘There isn’t anybody braver but the Cid!’  You see? it was
+the boy-twin that the surgeon was a-dealing with.
+
+“Who is the Cid?”
+
+“I don’t know, sir—at least only what she says.  She’s always talking
+about him, and says he was the bravest hero Spain ever had, or any other
+country.  They have it up and down, the children do, she standing up for
+the Cid, and they working George Washington for all he is worth.”
+
+“Do they quarrel?”
+
+“No; it’s only disputing, and bragging, the way children do.  They want
+her to be an American, but she can’t be anything but a Spaniard, she
+says.  You see, her mother was always longing for home, po’ thing! and
+thinking about it, and so the child is just as much a Spaniard as if
+she’d always lived there.  She thinks she remembers how Spain looked, but
+I reckon she don’t, because she was only a baby when they moved to
+France.  She is very proud to be a Spaniard.”
+
+Does that please you, Mercedes?  Very well, be content; your niece is
+loyal to her allegiance: her mother laid deep the foundations of her love
+for Spain, and she will go back to you as good a Spaniard as you are
+yourself.  She has made me promise to take her to you for a long visit
+when the War Office retires me.
+
+I attend to her studies myself; has she told you that?  Yes, I am her
+school-master, and she makes pretty good progress, I think, everything
+considered.  Everything considered—being translated—means holidays.  But
+the fact is, she was not born for study, and it comes hard.  Hard for me,
+too; it hurts me like a physical pain to see that free spirit of the air
+and the sunshine laboring and grieving over a book; and sometimes when I
+find her gazing far away towards the plain and the blue mountains with
+the longing in her eyes, I have to throw open the prison doors; I can’t
+help it.  A quaint little scholar she is, and makes plenty of blunders.
+Once I put the question:
+
+“What does the Czar govern?”
+
+She rested her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand and took that
+problem under deep consideration.  Presently she looked up and answered,
+with a rising inflection implying a shade of uncertainty,
+
+“The dative case?”
+
+Here are a couple of her expositions which were delivered with tranquil
+confidence:
+
+“_Chaplain_, diminutive of chap.  _Lass_ is masculine, _lassie_ is
+feminine.”
+
+She is not a genius, you see, but just a normal child; they all make
+mistakes of that sort.  There is a glad light in her eye which is pretty
+to see when she finds herself able to answer a question promptly and
+accurately, without any hesitation; as, for instance, this morning:
+
+“Cathy dear, what is a cube?”
+
+“Why, a native of Cuba.”
+
+She still drops a foreign word into her talk now and then, and there is
+still a subtle foreign flavor or fragrance about even her exactest
+English—and long may this abide! for it has for me a charm that is very
+pleasant.  Sometimes her English is daintily prim and bookish and
+captivating.  She has a child’s sweet tooth, but for her health’s sake I
+try to keep its inspirations under check.  She is obedient—as is proper
+for a titled and recognized military personage, which she is—but the
+chain presses sometimes.  For instance, we were out for a walk, and
+passed by some bushes that were freighted with wild goose-berries.  Her
+face brightened and she put her hands together and delivered herself of
+this speech, most feelingly:
+
+“Oh, if I was permitted a vice it would be the _gourmandise_!”
+
+Could I resist that?  No.  I gave her a gooseberry.
+
+You ask about her languages.  They take care of themselves; they will not
+get rusty here; our regiments are not made up of natives alone—far from
+it.  And she is picking up Indian tongues diligently.
+
+
+
+VI
+SOLDIER BOY AND THE MEXICAN PLUG
+
+
+“WHEN did you come?”
+
+“Arrived at sundown.”
+
+“Where from?”
+
+“Salt Lake.”
+
+“Are you in the service?”
+
+“No.  Trade.”
+
+“Pirate trade, I reckon.”
+
+“What do you know about it?”
+
+“I saw you when you came.  I recognized your master.  He is a bad sort.
+Trap-robber, horse-thief, squaw-man, renegado—Hank Butters—I know him
+very well.  Stole you, didn’t he?”
+
+“Well, it amounted to that.”
+
+“I thought so.  Where is his pard?”
+
+“He stopped at White Cloud’s camp.”
+
+“He is another of the same stripe, is Blake Haskins.”  (_Aside_.)  They
+are laying for Buffalo Bill again, I guess.  (_Aloud_.)  “What is your
+name?”
+
+“Which one?”
+
+“Have you got more than one?”
+
+“I get a new one every time I’m stolen.  I used to have an honest name,
+but that was early; I’ve forgotten it.  Since then I’ve had thirteen
+_aliases_.”
+
+“Aliases?  What is alias?”
+
+“A false name.”
+
+“Alias.  It’s a fine large word, and is in my line; it has quite a
+learned and cerebrospinal incandescent sound.  Are you educated?”
+
+“Well, no, I can’t claim it.  I can take down bars, I can distinguish
+oats from shoe-pegs, I can blaspheme a saddle-boil with the college-bred,
+and I know a few other things—not many; I have had no chance, I have
+always had to work; besides, I am of low birth and no family.  You speak
+my dialect like a native, but you are not a Mexican Plug, you are a
+gentleman, I can see that; and educated, of course.”
+
+“Yes, I am of old family, and not illiterate.  I am a fossil.”
+
+“A which?”
+
+“Fossil.  The first horses were fossils.  They date back two million
+years.”
+
+“Gr-eat sand and sage-brush! do you mean it?”
+
+“Yes, it is true.  The bones of my ancestors are held in reverence and
+worship, even by men.  They do not leave them exposed to the weather when
+they find them, but carry them three thousand miles and enshrine them in
+their temples of learning, and worship them.”
+
+“It is wonderful!  I knew you must be a person of distinction, by your
+fine presence and courtly address, and by the fact that you are not
+subjected to the indignity of hobbles, like myself and the rest.  Would
+you tell me your name?”
+
+“You have probably heard of it—Soldier Boy.”
+
+“What!—the renowned, the illustrious?”
+
+“Even so.”
+
+“It takes my breath!  Little did I dream that ever I should stand face to
+face with the possessor of that great name.  Buffalo Bill’s horse!  Known
+from the Canadian border to the deserts of Arizona, and from the eastern
+marches of the Great Plains to the foot-hills of the Sierra!  Truly this
+is a memorable day.  You still serve the celebrated Chief of Scouts?”
+
+“I am still his property, but he has lent me, for a time, to the most
+noble, the most gracious, the most excellent, her Excellency Catherine,
+Corporal-General Seventh Cavalry and Flag-Lieutenant Ninth Dragoons,
+U.S.A.,—on whom be peace!”
+
+“Amen.  Did you say _her_ Excellency?”
+
+“The same.  A Spanish lady, sweet blossom of a ducal house.  And truly a
+wonder; knowing everything, capable of everything; speaking all the
+languages, master of all sciences, a mind without horizons, a heart of
+gold, the glory of her race!  On whom be peace!”
+
+“Amen.  It is marvellous!”
+
+“Verily.  I knew many things, she has taught me others.  I am educated.
+I will tell you about her.”
+
+“I listen—I am enchanted.”
+
+“I will tell a plain tale, calmly, without excitement, without eloquence.
+When she had been here four or five weeks she was already erudite in
+military things, and they made her an officer—a double officer.  She rode
+the drill every day, like any soldier; and she could take the bugle and
+direct the evolutions herself.  Then, on a day, there was a grand race,
+for prizes—none to enter but the children.  Seventeen children entered,
+and she was the youngest.  Three girls, fourteen boys—good riders all.
+It was a steeplechase, with four hurdles, all pretty high.  The first
+prize was a most cunning half-grown silver bugle, and mighty pretty, with
+red silk cord and tassels.  Buffalo Bill was very anxious; for he had
+taught her to ride, and he did most dearly want her to win that race, for
+the glory of it.  So he wanted her to ride me, but she wouldn’t; and she
+reproached him, and said it was unfair and unright, and taking advantage;
+for what horse in this post or any other could stand a chance against me?
+and she was very severe with him, and said, ‘You ought to be ashamed—you
+are proposing to me conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman.’  So
+he just tossed her up in the air about thirty feet and caught her as she
+came down, and said he was ashamed; and put up his handkerchief and
+pretended to cry, which nearly broke her heart, and she petted him, and
+begged him to forgive her, and said she would do anything in the world he
+could ask but that; but he said he ought to go hang himself, and he
+_must_, if he could get a rope; it was nothing but right he should, for
+he never, never could forgive himself; and then _she_ began to cry, and
+they both sobbed, the way you could hear him a mile, and she clinging
+around his neck and pleading, till at last he was comforted a little, and
+gave his solemn promise he wouldn’t hang himself till after the race; and
+wouldn’t do it at all if she won it, which made her happy, and she said
+she would win it or die in the saddle; so then everything was pleasant
+again and both of them content.  He can’t help playing jokes on her, he
+is so fond of her and she is so innocent and unsuspecting; and when she
+finds it out she cuffs him and is in a fury, but presently forgives him
+because it’s him; and maybe the very next day she’s caught with another
+joke; you see she can’t learn any better, because she hasn’t any deceit
+in her, and that kind aren’t ever expecting it in another person.
+
+“It was a grand race.  The whole post was there, and there was such
+another whooping and shouting when the seventeen kids came flying down
+the turf and sailing over the hurdles—oh, beautiful to see!  Half-way
+down, it was kind of neck and neck, and anybody’s race and nobody’s.
+Then, what should happen but a cow steps out and puts her head down to
+munch grass, with her broadside to the battalion, and they a-coming like
+the wind; they split apart to flank her, but _she_?—why, she drove the
+spurs home and soared over that cow like a bird! and on she went, and
+cleared the last hurdle solitary and alone, the army letting loose the
+grand yell, and she skipped from the horse the same as if he had been
+standing still, and made her bow, and everybody crowded around to
+congratulate, and they gave her the bugle, and she put it to her lips and
+blew ‘boots and saddles’ to see how it would go, and BB was as proud as
+you can’t think!  And he said, ‘Take Soldier Boy, and don’t pass him back
+till I ask for him!’ and I can tell you he wouldn’t have said that to any
+other person on this planet.  That was two months and more ago, and
+nobody has been on my back since but the Corporal-General Seventh Cavalry
+and Flag-Lieutenant of the Ninth Dragoons, U.S.A.,—on whom be peace!”
+
+     [Picture: Every morning they go clattering down into the plain]
+
+“Amen.  I listen—tell me more.”
+
+“She set to work and organized the Sixteen, and called it the First
+Battalion Rocky Mountain Rangers, U.S.A., and she wanted to be bugler,
+but they elected her Lieutenant-General and Bugler.  So she ranks her
+uncle the commandant, who is only a Brigadier.  And doesn’t she train
+those little people!  Ask the Indians, ask the traders, ask the soldiers;
+they’ll tell you.  She has been at it from the first day.  Every morning
+they go clattering down into the plain, and there she sits on my back
+with her bugle at her mouth and sounds the orders and puts them through
+the evolutions for an hour or more; and it is too beautiful for anything
+to see those ponies dissolve from one formation into another, and waltz
+about, and break, and scatter, and form again, always moving, always
+graceful, now trotting, now galloping, and so on, sometimes near by,
+sometimes in the distance, all just like a state ball, you know, and
+sometimes she can’t hold herself any longer, but sounds the ‘charge,’ and
+turns me loose! and you can take my word for it, if the battalion hasn’t
+too much of a start we catch up and go over the breastworks with the
+front line.
+
+“Yes, they are soldiers, those little people; and healthy, too, not
+ailing any more, the way they used to be sometimes.  It’s because of her
+drill.  She’s got a fort, now—Fort Fanny Marsh.  Major-General Tommy
+Drake planned it out, and the Seventh and Dragoons built it.  Tommy is
+the Colonel’s son, and is fifteen and the oldest in the Battalion; Fanny
+Marsh is Brigadier-General, and is next oldest—over thirteen.  She is
+daughter of Captain Marsh, Company B, Seventh Cavalry.
+Lieutenant-General Alison is the youngest by considerable; I think she is
+about nine and a half or three-quarters.  Her military rig, as
+Lieutenant-General, isn’t for business, it’s for dress parade, because
+the ladies made it.  They say they got it out of the Middle Ages—out of a
+book—and it is all red and blue and white silks and satins and velvets;
+tights, trunks, sword, doublet with slashed sleeves, short cape, cap with
+just one feather in it; I’ve heard them name these things; they got them
+out of the book; she’s dressed like a page, of old times, they say.  It’s
+the daintiest outfit that ever was—you will say so, when you see it.
+She’s lovely in it—oh, just a dream!  In some ways she is just her age,
+but in others she’s as old as her uncle, I think.  She is very learned.
+She teaches her uncle his book.  I have seen her sitting by with the book
+and reciting to him what is in it, so that he can learn to do it himself.
+
+“Every Saturday she hires little Injuns to garrison her fort; then she
+lays siege to it, and makes military approaches by make-believe trenches
+in make-believe night, and finally at make-believe dawn she draws her
+sword and sounds the assault and takes it by storm.  It is for practice.
+And she has invented a bugle-call all by herself, out of her own head,
+and it’s a stirring one, and the prettiest in the service.  It’s to call
+_me_—it’s never used for anything else.  She taught it to me, and told me
+what it says: ‘_It is I_, _Soldier—come_!’ and when those thrilling notes
+come floating down the distance I hear them without fail, even if I am
+two miles away; and then—oh, then you should see my heels get down to
+business!
+
+“And she has taught me how to say good-morning and good-night to her,
+which is by lifting my right hoof for her to shake; and also how to say
+good-bye; I do that with my left foot—but only for practice, because
+there hasn’t been any but make-believe good-byeing yet, and I hope there
+won’t ever be.  It would make me cry if I ever had to put up my left foot
+in earnest.  She has taught me how to salute, and I can do it as well as
+a soldier.  I bow my head low, and lay my right hoof against my cheek.
+She taught me that because I got into disgrace once, through ignorance.
+I am privileged, because I am known to be honorable and trustworthy, and
+because I have a distinguished record in the service; so they don’t
+hobble me nor tie me to stakes or shut me tight in stables, but let me
+wander around to suit myself.  Well, trooping the colors is a very solemn
+ceremony, and everybody must stand uncovered when the flag goes by, the
+commandant and all; and once I was there, and ignorantly walked across
+right in front of the band, which was an awful disgrace: Ah, the
+Lieutenant-General was so ashamed, and so distressed that I should have
+done such a thing before all the world, that she couldn’t keep the tears
+back; and then she taught me the salute, so that if I ever did any other
+unmilitary act through ignorance I could do my salute and she believed
+everybody would think it was apology enough and would not press the
+matter.  It is very nice and distinguished; no other horse can do it;
+often the men salute me, and I return it.  I am privileged to be present
+when the Rocky Mountain Rangers troop the colors and I stand solemn, like
+the children, and I salute when the flag goes by.  Of course when she
+goes to her fort her sentries sing out ‘Turn out the guard!’ and then . . .
+do you catch that refreshing early-morning whiff from the
+mountain-pines and the wild flowers?  The night is far spent; we’ll hear
+the bugles before long.  Dorcas, the black woman, is very good and nice;
+she takes care of the Lieutenant-General, and is Brigadier-General
+Alison’s mother, which makes her mother-in-law to the Lieutenant-General.
+That is what Shekels says.  At least it is what I think he says, though I
+never can understand him quite clearly. He—”
+
+“Who is Shekels?”
+
+“The Seventh Cavalry dog.  I mean, if he _is_ a dog.  His father was a
+coyote and his mother was a wild-cat.  It doesn’t really make a dog out
+of him, does it?”
+
+“Not a real dog, I should think.  Only a kind of a general dog, at most,
+I reckon.  Though this is a matter of ichthyology, I suppose; and if it
+is, it is out of my depth, and so my opinion is not valuable, and I don’t
+claim much consideration for it.”
+
+“It isn’t ichthyology; it is dogmatics, which is still more difficult and
+tangled up.  Dogmatics always are.”
+
+“Dogmatics is quite beyond me, quite; so I am not competing.  But on
+general principles it is my opinion that a colt out of a coyote and a
+wild-cat is no square dog, but doubtful.  That is my hand, and I stand
+pat.”
+
+“Well, it is as far as I can go myself, and be fair and conscientious.  I
+have always regarded him as a doubtful dog, and so has Potter.  Potter is
+the great Dane.  Potter says he is no dog, and not even poultry—though I
+do not go quite so far as that.
+
+“And I wouldn’t, myself.  Poultry is one of those things which no person
+can get to the bottom of, there is so much of it and such variety.  It is
+just wings, and wings, and wings, till you are weary: turkeys, and geese,
+and bats, and butterflies, and angels, and grasshoppers, and flying-fish,
+and—well, there is really no end to the tribe; it gives me the heaves
+just to think of it.  But this one hasn’t any wings, has he?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Well, then, in my belief he is more likely to be dog than poultry.  I
+have not heard of poultry that hadn’t wings.  Wings is the _sign_ of
+poultry; it is what you tell poultry by.  Look at the mosquito.”
+
+“What do you reckon he is, then?  He must be something.”
+
+“Why, he could be a reptile; anything that hasn’t wings is a reptile.”
+
+“Who told you that?”
+
+“Nobody told me, but I overheard it.”
+
+“Where did you overhear it?”
+
+“Years ago.  I was with the Philadelphia Institute expedition in the Bad
+Lands under Professor Cope, hunting mastodon bones, and I overheard him
+say, his own self, that any plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium
+that hadn’t wings and was uncertain was a reptile.  Well, then, has this
+dog any wings?  No.  Is he a plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium?
+Maybe so, maybe not; but without ever having seen him, and judging only
+by his illegal and spectacular parentage, I will bet the odds of a bale
+of hay to a bran mash that he looks it.  Finally, is he uncertain?  That
+is the point—is he uncertain?  I will leave it to you if you have ever
+heard of a more uncertainer dog than what this one is?”
+
+“No, I never have.”
+
+“Well, then, he’s a reptile.  That’s settled.”
+
+“Why, look here, whatsyourname—”
+
+“Last alias, Mongrel.”
+
+“A good one, too.  I was going to say, you are better educated than you
+have been pretending to be.  I like cultured society, and I shall
+cultivate your acquaintance.  Now as to Shekels, whenever you want to
+know about any private thing that is going on at this post or in White
+Cloud’s camp or Thunder-Bird’s, he can tell you; and if you make friends
+with him he’ll be glad to, for he is a born gossip, and picks up all the
+tittle-tattle.  Being the whole Seventh Cavalry’s reptile, he doesn’t
+belong to anybody in particular, and hasn’t any military duties; so he
+comes and goes as he pleases, and is popular with all the house cats and
+other authentic sources of private information.  He understands all the
+languages, and talks them all, too.  With an accent like gritting your
+teeth, it is true, and with a grammar that is no improvement on
+blasphemy—still, with practice you get at the meat of what he says, and
+it serves. . . Hark!  That’s the reveille. . . .
+
+               [Picture: Music score for The Reveille] {80}
+
+“Faint and far, but isn’t it clear, isn’t it sweet?  There’s no music
+like the bugle to stir the blood, in the still solemnity of the morning
+twilight, with the dim plain stretching away to nothing and the spectral
+mountains slumbering against the sky.  You’ll hear another note in a
+minute—faint and far and clear, like the other one, and sweeter still,
+you’ll notice.  Wait . . . listen.  There it goes!  It says, ‘_It is I_,
+_Soldier—come_!’ . . .
+
+            [Picture: Soldier Boy’s Bugle Call [music score]]
+
+. . . Now then, watch me leave a blue streak behind!”
+
+
+
+VII
+SOLDIER BOY AND SHEKELS
+
+
+“DID you do as I told you?  Did you look up the Mexican Plug?”
+
+“Yes, I made his acquaintance before night and got his friendship.”
+
+“I liked him.  Did you?”
+
+“Not at first.  He took me for a reptile, and it troubled me, because I
+didn’t know whether it was a compliment or not.  I couldn’t ask him,
+because it would look ignorant.  So I didn’t say anything, and soon liked
+him very well indeed.  Was it a compliment, do you think?”
+
+“Yes, that is what it was.  They are very rare, the reptiles; very few
+left, now-a-days.”
+
+“Is that so?  What is a reptile?”
+
+“It is a plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium that hasn’t any
+wings and is uncertain.”
+
+“Well, it—it sounds fine, it surely does.”
+
+“And it _is_ fine.  You may be thankful you are one.”
+
+“I am.  It seems wonderfully grand and elegant for a person that is so
+humble as I am; but I am thankful, I am indeed, and will try to live up
+to it.  It is hard to remember.  Will you say it again, please, and say
+it slow?”
+
+“Plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium that hasn’t any wings and is
+uncertain.”
+
+“It is beautiful, anybody must grant it; beautiful, and of a noble sound.
+I hope it will not make me proud and stuck-up—I should not like to be
+that.  It is much more distinguished and honorable to be a reptile than a
+dog, don’t you think, Soldier?”
+
+“Why, there’s no comparison.  It is awfully aristocratic.  Often a duke
+is called a reptile; it is set down so, in history.”
+
+“Isn’t that grand!  Potter wouldn’t ever associate with me, but I reckon
+he’ll be glad to when he finds out what I am.”
+
+“You can depend upon it.”
+
+“I will thank Mongrel for this. He is a very good sort, for a Mexican
+Plug.  Don’t you think he is?”
+
+“It is my opinion of him; and as for his birth, he cannot help that.  We
+cannot all be reptiles, we cannot all be fossils; we have to take what
+comes and be thankful it is no worse.  It is the true philosophy.”
+
+“For those others?”
+
+“Stick to the subject, please.  Did it turn out that my suspicions were
+right?”
+
+“Yes, perfectly right.  Mongrel has heard them planning.  They are after
+BB’s life, for running them out of Medicine Bow and taking their stolen
+horses away from them.”
+
+“Well, they’ll get him yet, for sure.”
+
+“Not if he keeps a sharp look-out.”
+
+“_He_ keep a sharp lookout!  He never does; he despises them, and all
+their kind.  His life is always being threatened, and so it has come to
+be monotonous.”
+
+“Does he know they are here?”
+
+“Oh yes, he knows it.  He is always the earliest to know who comes and
+who goes.  But he cares nothing for them and their threats; he only
+laughs when people warn him.  They’ll shoot him from behind a tree the
+first he knows.  Did Mongrel tell you their plans?”
+
+“Yes.  They have found out that he starts for Fort Clayton day after
+to-morrow, with one of his scouts; so they will leave to-morrow, letting
+on to go south, but they will fetch around north all in good time.”
+
+“Shekels, I don’t like the look of it.”
+
+
+
+VIII
+THE SCOUT-START.  BB AND LIEUTENANT-GENERAL ALISON
+
+
+BB (_saluting_).  “Good! handsomely done!  The Seventh couldn’t beat it!
+You do certainly handle your Rangers like an expert, General.  And where
+are you bound?”
+
+“Four miles on the trail to Fort Clayton.”
+
+“Glad am I, dear!  What’s the idea of it?”
+
+“Guard of honor for you and Thorndike.”
+
+“Bless—your—_heart_!  I’d rather have it from you than from the
+Commander-in-Chief of the armies of the United States, you incomparable
+little soldier!—and I don’t need to take any oath to that, for you to
+believe it.”
+
+“I _thought_ you’d like it, BB.”
+
+“_Like_ it?  Well, I should say so!  Now then—all ready—sound the
+advance, and away we go!”
+
+
+
+IX
+SOLDIER BOY AND SHEKELS AGAIN
+
+
+“WELL, this is the way it happened.  We did the escort duty; then we came
+back and struck for the plain and put the Rangers through a rousing
+drill—oh, for hours!  Then we sent them home under Brigadier-General
+Fanny Marsh; then the Lieutenant-General and I went off on a gallop over
+the plains for about three hours, and were lazying along home in the
+middle of the afternoon, when we met Jimmy Slade, the drummer-boy, and he
+saluted and asked the Lieutenant-General if she had heard the news, and
+she said no, and he said:
+
+“‘Buffalo Bill has been ambushed and badly shot this side of Clayton, and
+Thorndike the scout, too; Bill couldn’t travel, but Thorndike could, and
+he brought the news, and Sergeant Wilkes and six men of Company B are
+gone, two hours ago, hotfoot, to get Bill.  And they say—’
+
+“‘_Go_!’ she shouts to me—and I went.”
+
+“Fast?”
+
+“Don’t ask foolish questions.  It was an awful pace.  For four hours
+nothing happened, and not a word said, except that now and then she said,
+‘Keep it up, Boy, keep it up, sweetheart; we’ll save him!’  I kept it up.
+Well, when the dark shut down, in the rugged hills, that poor little chap
+had been tearing around in the saddle all day, and I noticed by the slack
+knee-pressure that she was tired and tottery, and I got dreadfully
+afraid; but every time I tried to slow down and let her go to sleep, so I
+could stop, she hurried me up again; and so, sure enough, at last over
+she went!
+
+            [Picture: “There was nothing to do but stand by”]
+
+“Ah, that was a fix to be in I for she lay there and didn’t stir, and
+what was I to do?  I couldn’t leave her to fetch help, on account of the
+wolves.  There was nothing to do but stand by.  It was dreadful.  I was
+afraid she was killed, poor little thing!  But she wasn’t.  She came to,
+by-and-by, and said, ‘Kiss me, Soldier,’ and those were blessed words.  I
+kissed her—often; I am used to that, and we like it.  But she didn’t get
+up, and I was worried.  She fondled my nose with her hand, and talked to
+me, and called me endearing names—which is her way—but she caressed with
+the same hand all the time.  The other arm was broken, you see, but I
+didn’t know it, and she didn’t mention it.  She didn’t want to distress
+me, you know.
+
+“Soon the big gray wolves came, and hung around, and you could hear them
+snarl, and snap at each other, but you couldn’t see anything of them
+except their eyes, which shone in the dark like sparks and stars.  The
+Lieutenant-General said, ‘If I had the Rocky Mountain Rangers here, we
+would make those creatures climb a tree.’  Then she made believe that the
+Rangers were in hearing, and put up her bugle and blew the ‘assembly’;
+and then, ‘boots and saddles’; then the ‘trot’; ‘gallop’; ‘charge!’  Then
+she blew the ‘retreat,’ and said, ‘That’s for you, you rebels; the
+Rangers don’t ever retreat!’
+
+“The music frightened them away, but they were hungry, and kept coming
+back.  And of course they got bolder and bolder, which is their way.  It
+went on for an hour, then the tired child went to sleep, and it was
+pitiful to hear her moan and nestle, and I couldn’t do anything for her.
+All the time I was laying for the wolves.  They are in my line; I have
+had experience.  At last the boldest one ventured within my lines, and I
+landed him among his friends with some of his skull still on him, and
+they did the rest.  In the next hour I got a couple more, and they went
+the way of the first one, down the throats of the detachment.  That
+satisfied the survivors, and they went away and left us in peace.
+
+“We hadn’t any more adventures, though I kept awake all night and was
+ready.  From midnight on the child got very restless, and out of her
+head, and moaned, and said, ‘Water, water—thirsty’; and now and then,
+‘Kiss me, Soldier’; and sometimes she was in her fort and giving orders
+to her garrison; and once she was in Spain, and thought her mother was
+with her.  People say a horse can’t cry; but they don’t know, because we
+cry inside.
+
+“It was an hour after sunup that I heard the boys coming, and recognized
+the hoof-beats of Pomp and Cæsar and Jerry, old mates of mine; and a
+welcomer sound there couldn’t ever be.
+
+Buffalo Bill was in a horse-litter, with his leg broken by a bullet, and
+Mongrel and Blake Haskins’s horse were doing the work.  Buffalo Bill and
+Thorndike had lolled both of those toughs.
+
+“When they got to us, and Buffalo Bill saw the child lying there so
+white, he said, ‘My God!’ and the sound of his voice brought her to
+herself, and she gave a little cry of pleasure and struggled to get up,
+but couldn’t, and the soldiers gathered her up like the tenderest women,
+and their eyes were wet and they were not ashamed, when they saw her arm
+dangling; and so were Buffalo Bill’s, and when they laid her in his arms
+he said, ‘My darling, how does this come?’ and she said, ‘We came to save
+you, but I was tired, and couldn’t keep awake, and fell off and hurt
+myself, and couldn’t get on again.’  ‘You came to save me, you dear
+little rat?  It was too lovely of you!’  ‘Yes, and Soldier stood by me,
+which you know he would, and protected me from the wolves; and if he got
+a chance he kicked the life out of some of them—for you know he would,
+BB.’  The sergeant said, ‘He laid out three of them, sir, and here’s the
+bones to show for it.’  ‘He’s a grand horse,’ said BB; ‘he’s the grandest
+horse that ever was! and has saved your life, Lieutenant-General Alison,
+and shall protect it the rest of his life—he’s yours for a kiss!’  He got
+it, along with a passion of delight, and he said, ‘You are feeling better
+now, little Spaniard—do you think you could blow the advance?’  She put
+up the bugle to do it, but he said wait a minute first.  Then he and the
+sergeant set her arm and put it in splints, she wincing but not
+whimpering; then we took up the march for home, and that’s the end of the
+tale; and I’m her horse.  Isn’t she a brick, Shekels?
+
+“Brick?  She’s more than a brick, more than a thousand bricks—she’s a
+reptile!”
+
+“It’s a compliment out of your heart, Shekels.  God bless you for it!”
+
+
+
+X
+GENERAL ALISON AND DORCAS
+
+
+“TOO much company for her, Marse Tom.  Betwixt you, and Shekels, the
+Colonel’s wife, and the Cid—”
+
+“The Cid?  Oh, I remember—the raven.”
+
+“—and Mrs. Captain Marsh and Famine and Pestilence the baby _coyotes_,
+and Sour-Mash and her pups, and Sardanapalus and her kittens—hang these
+names she gives the creatures, they warp my jaw—and Potter: you—all
+sitting around in the house, and Soldier Boy at the window the entire
+time, it’s a wonder to me she comes along as well as she does.  She—”
+
+“You want her all to yourself, you stingy old thing!”
+
+“Marse Tom, you know better.  It’s too much company.  And then the idea
+of her receiving reports all the time from her officers, and acting upon
+them, and giving orders, the same as if she was well!  It ain’t good for
+her, and the surgeon don’t like it, and tried to persuade her not to and
+couldn’t; and when he _ordered_ her, she was that outraged and indignant,
+and was very severe on him, and accused him of insubordination, and said
+it didn’t become him to give orders to an officer of her rank.  Well, he
+saw he had excited her more and done more harm than all the rest put
+together, so he was vexed at himself and wished he had kept still.
+Doctors _don’t_ know much, and that’s a fact.  She’s too much interested
+in things—she ought to rest more.  She’s all the time sending messages to
+BB, and to soldiers and Injuns and whatnot, and to the animals.”
+
+“To the animals?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Who carries them?”
+
+“Sometimes Potter, but mostly it’s Shekels.”
+
+“Now come! who can find fault with such pretty make-believe as that?”
+
+“But it ain’t make-believe, Marse Tom.  She does send them.”
+
+“Yes, I don’t doubt that part of it.”
+
+“Do you doubt they get them, sir?”
+
+“Certainly.  Don’t you?”
+
+“No, sir.  Animals talk to one another.  I know it perfectly well, Marse
+Tom, and I ain’t saying it by guess.”
+
+“What a curious superstition!”
+
+“It ain’t a superstition, Marse Tom.  Look at that Shekels—look at him,
+_now_.  Is he listening, or ain’t he?  _Now_ you see! he’s turned his
+head away.  It’s because he was caught—caught in the act.  I’ll ask
+you—could a Christian look any more ashamed than what he looks now?—_lay
+down_!  You see? he was going to sneak out.  Don’t tell _me_, Marse Tom!
+If animals don’t talk, I miss _my_ guess.  And Shekels is the worst.  He
+goes and tells the animals everything that happens in the officers’
+quarters; and if he’s short of facts, he invents them.  He hasn’t any
+more principle than a blue jay; and as for morals, he’s empty.  Look at
+him now; look at him grovel.  He knows what I am saying, and he knows
+it’s the truth.  You see, yourself, that he can feel shame; it’s the only
+virtue he’s got.  It’s wonderful how they find out everything that’s
+going on—the animals.  They—”
+
+“Do you really believe they do, Dorcas?”
+
+“I don’t only just believe it, Marse Tom, I know it.  Day before
+yesterday they knew something was going to happen.  They were that
+excited, and whispering around together; why, anybody could see that
+they— But my! I must get back to her, and I haven’t got to my errand
+yet.”
+
+“What is it, Dorcas?”
+
+“Well, it’s two or three things.  One is, the doctor don’t salute when he
+comes . . . Now, Marse Tom, it ain’t anything to laugh at, and so—”
+
+“Well, then, forgive me; I didn’t mean to laugh—I got caught unprepared.”
+
+“You see, she don’t want to hurt the doctor’s feelings, so she don’t say
+anything to him about it; but she is always polite, herself, and it hurts
+that kind for people to be rude to them.”
+
+“I’ll have that doctor hanged.”
+
+“Marse Tom, she don’t _want_ him hanged.  She—”
+
+“Well, then, I’ll have him boiled in oil.”
+
+“But she don’t _want_ him boiled.  I—”
+
+“Oh, very well, very well, I only want to please her; I’ll have him
+skinned.”
+
+“Why, _she_ don’t want him skinned; it would break her heart.  Now—”
+
+“Woman, this is perfectly unreasonable.  What in the nation _does_ she
+want?”
+
+“Marse Tom, if you would only be a little patient, and not fly off the
+handle at the least little thing.  Why, she only wants you to speak to
+him.”
+
+“Speak to him!  Well, upon my word!  All this unseemly rage and row about
+such a—a— Dorcas, I never saw you carry on like this before.  You have
+alarmed the sentry; he thinks I am being assassinated; he thinks there’s
+a mutiny, a revolt, an insurrection; he—”
+
+“Marse Tom, you are just putting on; you know it perfectly well; I don’t
+know what makes you act like that—but you always did, even when you was
+little, and you can’t get over it, I reckon.  Are you over it now, Marse
+Tom?”
+
+“Oh, well, yes; but it would try anybody to be doing the best he could,
+offering every kindness he could think of, only to have it rejected with
+contumely and . . . Oh, well, let it go; it’s no matter—I’ll talk to the
+doctor.  Is that satisfactory, or are you going to break out again?”
+
+“Yes, sir, it is; and it’s only right to talk to him, too, because it’s
+just as she says; she’s trying to keep up discipline in the Rangers, and
+this insubordination of his is a bad example for them—now ain’t it so,
+Marse Tom?”
+
+“Well, there _is_ reason in it, I can’t deny it; so I will speak to him,
+though at bottom I think hanging would be more lasting.  What is the rest
+of your errand, Dorcas?”
+
+“Of course her room is Ranger headquarters now, Marse Tom, while she’s
+sick.  Well, soldiers of the cavalry and the dragoons that are off duty
+come and get her sentries to let them relieve them and serve in their
+place.  It’s only out of affection, sir, and because they know military
+honors please her, and please the children too, for her sake; and they
+don’t bring their muskets; and so—”
+
+“I’ve noticed them there, but didn’t twig the idea.  They are standing
+guard, are they?”
+
+“Yes, sir, and she is afraid you will reprove them and hurt their
+feelings, if you see them there; so she begs, if—if you don’t mind coming
+in the back way—”
+
+“Bear me up, Dorcas; don’t let me faint.”
+
+“There—sit up and behave, Marse Tom.  You are not going to faint; you are
+only pretending—you used to act just so when you was little; it does seem
+a long time for you to get grown up.”
+
+“Dorcas, the way the child is progressing, I shall be out of my job
+before long—she’ll have the whole post in her hands.  I must make a
+stand, I must not go down without a struggle.  These encroachments. . . .
+Dorcas, what do you think she will think of next?”
+
+“Marse Tom, she don’t mean any harm.”
+
+“Are you sure of it?”
+
+“Yes, Marse Tom.”
+
+“You feel sure she has no ulterior designs?”
+
+“I don’t know what that is, Marse Tom, but I know she hasn’t.”
+
+“Very well, then, for the present I am satisfied.  What else have you
+come about?”
+
+“I reckon I better tell you the whole thing first, Marse Tom, then tell
+you what she wants.  There’s been an emeute, as she calls it.  It was
+before she got back with BB.  The officer of the day reported it to her
+this morning.  It happened at her fort.  There was a fuss betwixt
+Major-General Tommy Drake and Lieutenant-Colonel Agnes Frisbie, and he
+snatched her doll away, which is made of white kid stuffed with sawdust,
+and tore every rag of its clothes off, right before them all, and is
+under arrest, and the charge is conduct un—”
+
+“Yes, I know—conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman—a plain case,
+too, it seems to me.  This is a serious matter.  Well, what is her
+pleasure?”
+
+“Well, Marse Tom, she has summoned a court-martial, but the doctor don’t
+think she is well enough to preside over it, and she says there ain’t
+anybody competent but her, because there’s a major-general concerned; and
+so she—she—well, she says, would you preside over it for her? . . . Marse
+Tom, _sit_ up!  You ain’t any more going to faint than Shekels is.”
+
+“Look here, Dorcas, go along back, and be tactful.  Be persuasive; don’t
+fret her; tell her it’s all right, the matter is in my hands, but it
+isn’t good form to hurry so grave a matter as this.  Explain to her that
+we have to go by precedents, and that I believe this one to be new.  In
+fact, you can say I know that nothing just like it has happened in our
+army, therefore I must be guided by European precedents, and must go
+cautiously and examine them carefully.  Tell her not to be impatient, it
+will take me several days, but it will all come out right, and I will
+come over and report progress as I go along.  Do you get the idea,
+Dorcas?”
+
+“I don’t know as I do, sir.”
+
+“Well, it’s this.  You see, it won’t ever do for me, a brigadier in the
+regular army, to preside over that infant court-martial—there isn’t any
+precedent for it, don’t you see.  Very well.  I will go on examining
+authorities and reporting progress until she is well enough to get me out
+of this scrape by presiding herself.  Do you get it now?”
+
+“Oh, yes, sir, I get it, and it’s good, I’ll go and fix it with her.
+_Lay down_! and stay where you are.”
+
+“Why, what harm is he doing?”
+
+“Oh, it ain’t any harm, but it just vexes me to see him act so.”
+
+“What was he doing?”
+
+“Can’t you see, and him in such a sweat?  He was starting out to spread
+it all over the post.  _Now_ I reckon you won’t deny, any more, that they
+go and tell everything they hear, now that you’ve seen it with yo’ own
+eyes.”
+
+“Well, I don’t like to acknowledge it, Dorcas, but I don’t see how I can
+consistently stick to my doubts in the face of such overwhelming proof as
+this dog is furnishing.”
+
+“There, now, you’ve got in yo’ right mind at last!  I wonder you can be
+so stubborn, Marse Tom.  But you always was, even when you was little.
+I’m going now.”
+
+“Look here; tell her that in view of the delay, it is my judgment that
+she ought to enlarge the accused on his parole.”
+
+“Yes, sir, I’ll tell her.  Marse Tom?”
+
+“Well?”
+
+“She can’t get to Soldier Boy, and he stands there all the time, down in
+the mouth and lonesome; and she says will you shake hands with him and
+comfort him?  Everybody does.”
+
+“It’s a curious kind of lonesomeness; but, all right, I will.”
+
+
+
+XI
+SEVERAL MONTHS LATER.  ANTONIO AND THORNDIKE
+
+
+“THORNDIKE, isn’t that Plug you’re riding an asset of the scrap you and
+Buffalo Bill had with the late Blake Haskins and his pal a few months
+back?”
+
+“Yes, this is Mongrel—and not a half-bad horse, either.”
+
+“I’ve noticed he keeps up his lick first-rate.  Say—isn’t it a gaudy
+morning?”
+
+“Right you are!”
+
+“Thorndike, it’s Andalusian! and when that’s said, all’s said.”
+
+“Andalusian _and_ Oregonian, Antonio!  Put it that way, and you have my
+vote.  Being a native up there, I know.  You being Andalusian-born—”
+
+“Can speak with authority for that patch of paradise?  Well, I can.  Like
+the Don! like Sancho!  This is the correct Andalusian dawn now—crisp,
+fresh, dewy, fragrant, pungent—”
+
+    “‘What though the spicy breezes
+    Blow soft o’er Ceylon’s isle—’
+
+—_git_ up, you old cow! stumbling like that when we’ve just been praising
+you! out on a scout and can’t live up to the honor any better than that?
+Antonio, how long have you been out here in the Plains and the Rockies?”
+
+“More than thirteen years.”
+
+“It’s a long time.  Don’t you ever get homesick?”
+
+“Not till now.”
+
+“Why _now_?—after such a long cure.”
+
+“These preparations of the retiring commandant’s have started it up.”
+
+“Of course.  It’s natural.”
+
+“It keeps me thinking about Spain.  I know the region where the Seventh’s
+child’s aunt lives; I know all the lovely country for miles around; I’ll
+bet I’ve seen her aunt’s villa many a time; I’ll bet I’ve been in it in
+those pleasant old times when I was a Spanish gentleman.”
+
+“They say the child is wild to see Spain.”
+
+“It’s so; I know it from what I hear.”
+
+“Haven’t you talked with her about it?”
+
+“No.  I’ve avoided it.  I should soon be as wild as she is.  That would
+not be comfortable.”
+
+“I wish I was going, Antonio.  There’s two things I’d give a lot to see.
+One’s a railroad.”
+
+“She’ll see one when she strikes Missouri.”
+
+“The other’s a bull-fight.”
+
+“I’ve seen lots of them; I wish I could see another.”
+
+“I don’t know anything about it, except in a mixed-up, foggy way,
+Antonio, but I know enough to know it’s grand sport.”
+
+“The grandest in the world!  There’s no other sport that begins with it.
+I’ll tell you what I’ve seen, then you can judge.  It was my first, and
+it’s as vivid to me now as it was when I saw it.  It was a Sunday
+afternoon, and beautiful weather, and my uncle, the priest, took me as a
+reward for being a good boy and because of my own accord and without
+anybody asking me I had bankrupted my savings-box and given the money to
+a mission that was civilizing the Chinese and sweetening their lives and
+softening their hearts with the gentle teachings of our religion, and I
+wish you could have seen what we saw that day, Thorndike.
+
+“The amphitheatre was packed, from the bull-ring to the highest
+row—twelve thousand people in one circling mass, one slanting, solid
+mass—royalties, nobles, clergy, ladies, gentlemen, state officials,
+generals, admirals, soldiers, sailors, lawyers, thieves, merchants,
+brokers, cooks, housemaids, scullery-maids, doubtful women, dudes,
+gamblers, beggars, loafers, tramps, American ladies, gentlemen,
+preachers, English ladies, gentlemen, preachers, German ditto, French
+ditto, and so on and so on, all the world represented: Spaniards to
+admire and praise, foreigners to enjoy and go home and find fault—there
+they were, one solid, sloping, circling sweep of rippling and flashing
+color under the downpour of the summer sun—just a garden, a gaudy,
+gorgeous flower-garden!  Children munching oranges, six thousand fans
+fluttering and glimmering, everybody happy, everybody chatting gayly with
+their intimates, lovely girl-faces smiling recognition and salutation to
+other lovely girl-faces, gray old ladies and gentlemen dealing in the
+like exchanges with each other—ah, such a picture of cheery contentment
+and glad anticipation! not a mean spirit, nor a sordid soul, nor a sad
+heart there—ah, Thorndike, I wish I could see it again.
+
+“Suddenly, the martial note of a bugle cleaves the hum and murmur—clear
+the ring!
+
+“They clear it.  The great gate is flung open, and the procession marches
+in, splendidly costumed and glittering: the marshals of the day, then the
+picadores on horseback, then the matadores on foot, each surrounded by
+his quadrille of _chulos_.  They march to the box of the city fathers,
+and formally salute.  The key is thrown, the bull-gate is unlocked.
+Another bugle blast—the gate flies open, the bull plunges in, furious,
+trembling, blinking in the blinding light, and stands there, a
+magnificent creature, centre of those multitudinous and admiring eyes,
+brave, ready for battle, his attitude a challenge.  He sees his enemy:
+horsemen sitting motionless, with long spears in rest, upon blindfolded
+broken-down nags, lean and starved, fit only for sport and sacrifice,
+then the carrion-heap.
+
+“The bull makes a rush, with murder in his eye, but a picador meets him
+with a spear-thrust in the shoulder.  He flinches with the pain, and the
+picador skips out of danger.  A burst of applause for the picador, hisses
+for the bull.  Some shout ‘Cow!’ at the bull, and call him offensive
+names.  But he is not listening to them, he is there for business; he is
+not minding the cloak-bearers that come fluttering around to confuse him;
+he chases this way, he chases that way, and hither and yon, scattering
+the nimble banderillos in every direction like a spray, and receiving
+their maddening darts in his neck as they dodge and fly—oh, but it’s a
+lively spectacle, and brings down the house!  Ah, you should hear the
+thundering roar that goes up when the game is at its wildest and
+brilliant things are done!
+
+“Oh, that first bull, that day, was great!  From the moment the spirit of
+war rose to flood-tide in him and he got down to his work, he began to do
+wonders.  He tore his way through his persecutors, flinging one of them
+clear over the parapet; he bowled a horse and his rider down, and plunged
+straight for the next, got home with his horns, wounding both horse and
+man; on again, here and there and this way and that; and one after
+another he tore the bowels out of two horses so that they gushed to the
+ground, and ripped a third one so badly that although they rushed him to
+cover and shoved his bowels back and stuffed the rents with tow and rode
+him against the bull again, he couldn’t make the trip; he tried to
+gallop, under the spur, but soon reeled and tottered and fell, all in a
+heap.  For a while, that bull-ring was the most thrilling and glorious
+and inspiring sight that ever was seen.  The bull absolutely cleared it,
+and stood there alone! monarch of the place.  The people went mad for
+pride in him, and joy and delight, and you couldn’t hear yourself think,
+for the roar and boom and crash of applause.”
+
+“Antonio, it carries me clear out of myself just to hear you tell it; it
+must have been perfectly splendid.  If I live, I’ll see a bull-fight yet
+before I die.  Did they kill him?”
+
+“Oh yes; that is what the bull is for.  They tired him out, and got him
+at last.  He kept rushing the matador, who always slipped smartly and
+gracefully aside in time, waiting for a sure chance; and at last it came;
+the bull made a deadly plunge for him—was avoided neatly, and as he sped
+by, the long sword glided silently into him, between left shoulder and
+spine—in and in, to the hilt.  He crumpled down, dying.”
+
+“Ah, Antonio, it _is_ the noblest sport that ever was.  I would give a
+year of my life to see it.  Is the bull always killed?”
+
+“Yes.  Sometimes a bull is timid, finding himself in so strange a place,
+and he stands trembling, or tries to retreat.  Then everybody despises
+him for his cowardice and wants him punished and made ridiculous; so they
+hough him from behind, and it is the funniest thing in the world to see
+him hobbling around on his severed legs; the whole vast house goes into
+hurricanes of laughter over it; I have laughed till the tears ran down my
+cheeks to see it.  When he has furnished all the sport he can, he is not
+any longer useful, and is killed.”
+
+“Well, it is perfectly grand, Antonio, perfectly beautiful.  Burning a
+nigger don’t begin.”
+
+
+
+XII
+MONGREL AND THE OTHER HORSE
+
+
+“SAGE-BRUSH, you have been listening?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Isn’t it strange?”
+
+“Well, no, Mongrel, I don’t know that it is.”
+
+“Why don’t you?”
+
+“I’ve seen a good many human beings in my time.  They are created as they
+are; they cannot help it.  They are only brutal because that is their
+make; brutes would be brutal if it was _their_ make.”
+
+“To me, Sage-Brush, man is most strange and unaccountable.  Why should he
+treat dumb animals that way when they are not doing any harm?”
+
+“Man is not always like that, Mongrel; he is kind enough when he is not
+excited by religion.”
+
+“Is the bull-fight a religious service?”
+
+“I think so.  I have heard so.  It is held on Sunday.”
+
+(_A reflective pause_, _lasting some moments_.)  Then:
+
+“When we die, Sage-Brush, do we go to heaven and dwell with man?”
+
+“My father thought not.  He believed we do not have to go there unless we
+deserve it.”
+
+
+
+
+Part II
+IN SPAIN
+
+
+XIII
+GENERAL ALISON TO HIS MOTHER
+
+
+IT was a prodigious trip, but delightful, of course, through the Rockies
+and the Black Hills and the mighty sweep of the Great Plains to
+civilization and the Missouri border—where the railroading began and the
+delightfulness ended.  But no one is the worse for the journey; certainly
+not Cathy, nor Dorcas, nor Soldier Boy; and as for me, I am not
+complaining.
+
+Spain is all that Cathy had pictured it—and more, she says.  She is in a
+fury of delight, the maddest little animal that ever was, and all for
+joy.  She thinks she remembers Spain, but that is not very likely, I
+suppose.  The two—Mercedes and Cathy—devour each other.  It is a rapture
+of love, and beautiful to see.  It is Spanish; that describes it.  Will
+this be a short visit?
+
+No.  It will be permanent.  Cathy has elected to abide with Spain and her
+aunt.  Dorcas says she (Dorcas) foresaw that this would happen; and also
+says that she wanted it to happen, and says the child’s own country is
+the right place for her, and that she ought not to have been sent to me,
+I ought to have gone to her.  I thought it insane to take Soldier Boy to
+Spain, but it was well that I yielded to Cathy’s pleadings; if he had
+been left behind, half of her heart would have remained with him, and she
+would not have been contented.  As it is, everything has fallen out for
+the best, and we are all satisfied and comfortable.  It may be that
+Dorcas and I will see America again some day; but also it is a case of
+maybe not.
+
+We left the post in the early morning.  It was an affecting time.  The
+women cried over Cathy, so did even those stern warriors, the Rocky
+Mountain Rangers; Shekels was there, and the Cid, and Sardanapalus, and
+Potter, and Mongrel, and Sour-Mash, Famine, and Pestilence, and Cathy
+kissed them all and wept; details of the several arms of the garrison
+were present to represent the rest, and say good-bye and God bless you
+for all the soldiery; and there was a special squad from the Seventh,
+with the oldest veteran at its head, to speed the Seventh’s Child with
+grand honors and impressive ceremonies; and the veteran had a touching
+speech by heart, and put up his hand in salute and tried to say it, but
+his lips trembled and his voice broke, but Cathy bent down from the
+saddle and kissed him on the mouth and turned his defeat to victory, and
+a cheer went up.
+
+The next act closed the ceremonies, and was a moving surprise.  It may be
+that you have discovered, before this, that the rigors of military law
+and custom melt insensibly away and disappear when a soldier or a
+regiment or the garrison wants to do something that will please Cathy.
+The bands conceived the idea of stirring her soldierly heart with a
+farewell which would remain in her memory always, beautiful and unfading,
+and bring back the past and its love for her whenever she should think of
+it; so they got their project placed before General Burnaby, my
+successor, who is Cathy’s newest slave, and in spite of poverty of
+precedents they got his permission.  The bands knew the child’s favorite
+military airs.  By this hint you know what is coming, but Cathy didn’t.
+She was asked to sound the “reveille,” which she did.
+
+                    [Picture: Reveille [music score]]
+
+With the last note the bands burst out with a crash: and woke the
+mountains with the “Star-Spangled Banner” in a way to make a body’s heart
+swell and thump and his hair rise!  It was enough to break a person all
+up, to see Cathy’s radiant face shining out through her gladness and
+tears.  By request she blew the “assembly,” now. . . .
+
+                  [Picture: The Assembly [music score]]
+
+. . . Then the bands thundered in, with “Rally round the flag, boys,
+rally once again!”  Next, she blew another call (“to the Standard”) . . .
+
+                 [Picture: To the Standard [music score]]
+
+. . . and the bands responded with “When we were marching through
+Georgia.”  Straightway she sounded “boots and saddles,” that thrilling
+and most expediting call. . . .
+
+                [Picture: Boots and Saddles [music score]]
+
+and the bands could hardly hold in for the final note; then they turned
+their whole strength loose on “Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are
+marching,” and everybody’s excitement rose to blood-heat.
+
+Now an impressive pause—then the bugle sang “TAPS”—translatable, this
+time, into “Good-bye, and God keep us all!” for taps is the soldier’s
+nightly release from duty, and farewell: plaintive, sweet, pathetic, for
+the morning is never sure, for him; always it is possible that he is
+hearing it for the last time. . . .
+
+                      [Picture: Taps [music score]]
+
+. . . Then the bands turned their instruments towards Cathy and burst in
+with that rollicking frenzy of a tune, “Oh, we’ll all get blind drunk
+when Johnny comes marching home—yes, we’ll all get blind drunk when
+Johnny comes marching home!” and followed it instantly with “Dixie,” that
+antidote for melancholy, merriest and gladdest of all military music on
+any side of the ocean—and that was the end.  And so—farewell!
+
+I wish you could have been there to see it all, hear it all, and feel it:
+and get yourself blown away with the hurricane huzza that swept the place
+as a finish.
+
+When we rode away, our main body had already been on the road an hour or
+two—I speak of our camp equipage; but we didn’t move off alone: when
+Cathy blew the “advance” the Rangers cantered out in column of fours, and
+gave us escort, and were joined by White Cloud and Thunder-Bird in all
+their gaudy bravery, and by Buffalo Bill and four subordinate scouts.
+Three miles away, in the Plains, the Lieutenant-General halted, sat her
+horse like a military statue, the bugle at her lips, and put the Rangers
+through the evolutions for half an hour; and finally, when she blew the
+“charge,” she led it herself.  “Not for the last time,” she said, and got
+a cheer, and we said good-bye all around, and faced eastward and rode
+away.
+
+_Postscript_.  _A Day Later_.  Soldier Boy was stolen last night.  Cathy
+is almost beside herself, and we cannot comfort her.  Mercedes and I are
+not much alarmed about the horse, although this part of Spain is in
+something of a turmoil, politically, at present, and there is a good deal
+of lawlessness.  In ordinary times the thief and the horse would soon be
+captured.  We shall have them before long, I think.
+
+
+
+XIV
+SOLDIER BOY—TO HIMSELF
+
+
+IT is five months.  Or is it six?  My troubles have clouded my memory.  I
+have been all over this land, from end to end, and now I am back again
+since day before yesterday, to that city which we passed through, that
+last day of our long journey, and which is near her country home.  I am a
+tottering ruin and my eyes are dim, but I recognized it.  If she could
+see me she would know me and sound my call.  I wish I could hear it once
+more; it would revive me, it would bring back her face and the mountains
+and the free life, and I would come—if I were dying I would come!  She
+would not know _me_, looking as I do, but she would know me by my star.
+But she will never see me, for they do not let me out of this shabby
+stable—a foul and miserable place, with most two wrecks like myself for
+company.
+
+How many times have I changed hands?  I think it is twelve times—I cannot
+remember; and each time it was down a step lower, and each time I got a
+harder master.  They have been cruel, every one; they have worked me
+night and day in degraded employments, and beaten me; they have fed me
+ill, and some days not at all.  And so I am but bones, now, with a rough
+and frowsy skin humped and cornered upon my shrunken body—that skin which
+was once so glossy, that skin which she loved to stroke with her hand.  I
+was the pride of the mountains and the Great Plains; now I am a scarecrow
+and despised.  These piteous wrecks that are my comrades here say we have
+reached the bottom of the scale, the final humiliation; they say that
+when a horse is no longer worth the weeds and discarded rubbish they feed
+to him, they sell him to the bull-ring for a glass of brandy, to make
+sport for the people and perish for their pleasure.
+
+To die—that does not disturb me; we of the service never care for death.
+But if I could see her once more! if I could hear her bugle sing again
+and say, “It is I, Soldier—come!”
+
+
+
+XV
+GENERAL ALISON TO MRS. DRAKE, THE COLONEL’S WIFE
+
+
+TO return, now, to where I was, and tell you the rest.  We shall never
+know how she came to be there; there is no way to account for it.  She
+was always watching for black and shiny and spirited horses—watching,
+hoping, despairing, hoping again; always giving chase and sounding her
+call, upon the meagrest chance of a response, and breaking her heart over
+the disappointment; always inquiring, always interested in sales-stables
+and horse accumulations in general.  How she got there must remain a
+mystery.
+
+At the point which I had reached in a preceding paragraph of this
+account, the situation was as follows: two horses lay dying; the bull had
+scattered his persecutors for the moment, and stood raging, panting,
+pawing the dust in clouds over his back, when the man that had been
+wounded returned to the ring on a remount, a poor blindfolded wreck that
+yet had something ironically military about his bearing—and the next
+moment the bull had ripped him open and his bowls were dragging upon the
+ground: and the bull was charging his swarm of pests again.  Then came
+pealing through the air a bugle-call that froze my blood—“_It is I_,
+_Soldier—come_!”  I turned; Cathy was flying down through the massed
+people; she cleared the parapet at a bound, and sped towards that
+riderless horse, who staggered forward towards the remembered sound; but
+his strength failed, and he fell at her feet, she lavishing kisses upon
+him and sobbing, the house rising with one impulse, and white with
+horror!  Before help could reach her the bull was back again—
+
+         [Picture: His strength failed, and he fell at her feet]
+
+She was never conscious again in life.  We bore her home, all mangled and
+drenched in blood, and knelt by her and listened to her broken and
+wandering words, and prayed for her passing spirit, and there was no
+comfort—nor ever will be, I think.  But she was happy, for she was far
+away under another sky, and comrading again with her Rangers, and her
+animal friends, and the soldiers.  Their names fell softly and
+caressingly from her lips, one by one, with pauses between.  She was not
+in pain, but lay with closed eyes, vacantly murmuring, as one who dreams.
+Sometimes she smiled, saying nothing; sometimes she smiled when she
+uttered a name—such as Shekels, or BB, or Potter.  Sometimes she was at
+her fort, issuing commands; sometimes she was careering over the plain at
+the head of her men; sometimes she was training her horse; once she said,
+reprovingly, “You are giving me the wrong foot; give me the left—don’t
+you know it is good-bye?”
+
+After this, she lay silent some time; the end was near.  By-and-by she
+murmured, “Tired . . . sleepy . . . take Cathy, mamma.”  Then, “Kiss me,
+Soldier.”  For a little time, she lay so still that we were doubtful if
+she breathed.  Then she put out her hand and began to feel gropingly
+about; then said, “I cannot find it; blow ‘taps.’”  It was the end.
+
+                      [Picture: Taps [music score]]
+
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES
+
+
+{80}  At West Point the bugle is supposed to be saying:
+
+    “I can’t get ’em up,
+    I can’t get ’em up,
+    I can’t get ’em up in the morning!”
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A HORSE’S TALE ***
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+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" />
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+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Horse's Tale, by Mark Twain</title>
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+<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Horse’s Tale, by Mark Twain</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
+at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
+are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
+country where you are located before using this eBook.
+</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: A Horse’s Tale</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Mark Twain</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Lucius Hitchcock</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 21, 1997 [eBook #1086]<br />
+[Most recently updated: August 26, 2021]</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Price</div>
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A HORSE’S TALE ***</div>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/coverb.jpg">
+<img alt="Book cover"
+title="Book cover"
+ src="images/covers.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a name="fpb" href="images/fpb.jpg">
+<img alt="&ldquo;Buffalo Bill took me on Soldier Boy to
+Thunder-Bird&rsquo;s Camp&rdquo;"
+title="&ldquo;Buffalo Bill took me on Soldier Boy to
+Thunder-Bird&rsquo;s Camp&rdquo;"
+ src="images/fps.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<h1>A Horse&rsquo;s Tale</h1>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">
+<span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br />
+Mark Twain</h2>
+
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">ILLUSTRATED
+BY</span><br />
+<span class="GutSmall">LUCIUS HITCHCOCK</span></p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/tpb.jpg">
+<img alt="Decorative graphic"
+title="Decorative graphic"
+ src="images/tps.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p style="text-align: center">LONDON AND NEW YORK<br />
+HARPER &amp; BROTHERS<br />
+PUBLISHERS .. MCMVII</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span
+class="GutSmall">Copyright, 1906, by Harper &amp;
+Brothers.</span>
+</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="GutSmall"><i>All
+rights reserved</i></span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="GutSmall">Published
+October, 1907.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Printed in United States of
+America</i>.</p>
+
+<h2>Contents</h2>
+
+<table summary="" style="">
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page1">Chapter I. <span class="smcap">Soldier Boy&mdash;Privately to Himself</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page12">Chapter II. <span class="smcap">Letter from Rouen&mdash;To General Alison</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page19">Chapter III. <span class="smcap">General Alison to his Mother</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page25">Chapter IV. <span class="smcap">Cathy to her Aunt Mercedes</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page33">Chapter V. <span class="smcap">General Alison to Mercedes</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page56">Chapter VI. <span class="smcap">Soldier Boy and the Mexican Plug</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page82">Chapter VII. <span class="smcap">Soldier Boy and Shekels</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page88">Chapter VIII. <span class="smcap">The Scout-start. BB and Lieutenant-General Alison</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page90">Chapter IX. <span class="smcap">Soldier Boy and Shekels Again</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page100">Chapter X. <span class="smcap">General Alison and Dorcas</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page116">Chapter XI. <span class="smcap">Several Months Later. Antonio and Thorndike</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page129">Chapter XII. <span class="smcap">Mongrel and the Other Horse</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page133">Chapter XIII. <span class="smcap">General Alison to his Mother</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page145">Chapter XIV. <span class="smcap">Soldier Boy&mdash;To Himself</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#page149">Chapter XV. <span class="smcap">General Alison to Mrs. Drake, the Colonel&rsquo;s Wife</span></a></td>
+</tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<h2>Illustrations</h2>
+
+<table summary="" style="">
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#fpb">&ldquo;Buffalo Bill took me on Soldier Boy to Thunder-Bird&rsquo;s Camp&rdquo;</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#image48">&ldquo;Look at that file of cats in your chair&rdquo;</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#image66">&ldquo;Every morning they go clattering down into the plain&rdquo;</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#image92">&ldquo;There was nothing to do but stand by&rdquo;</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#image150">&ldquo;His strength failed and he fell at her feet&rdquo;</a></td>
+</tr>
+
+</table>
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>Acknowledgements</h2>
+
+<p>Although I have had several opportunities to see a bull-fight,
+I have never seen one; but I needed a bull-fight in this book,
+and a trustworthy one will be found in it. I got it out of
+John Hay&rsquo;s <i>Castilian Days</i>, reducing and condensing
+it to fit the requirements of this small story. Mr. Hay and
+I were friends from early times, and if he were still with us he
+would not rebuke me for the liberty I have taken.</p>
+
+<p>The knowledge of military minuti&aelig; exhibited in this book
+will be found to be correct, but it is not mine; I took it from
+<i>Army Regulations</i>, ed. 1904; <i>Hardy&rsquo;s
+Tactics</i>&mdash;<i>Cavalry</i>, revised ed., 1861; and
+<i>Jomini&rsquo;s Handbook of Military Etiquette</i>, West Point
+ed., 1905.</p>
+
+<p>It would not be honest in me to encourage by silence the
+inference that I composed the Horse&rsquo;s private bugle-call,
+for I did not. I lifted it, as Aristotle says. It is
+the opening strain in <i>The Pizzicato</i> in <i>Sylvia</i>, by
+Delibes. When that master was composing it he did not know
+it was a bugle-call, it was I that found it out.</p>
+
+<p>Along through the book I have distributed a few anachronisms
+and unborn historical incidents and such things, so as to help
+the tale over the difficult places. This idea is not
+original with me; I got it out of Herodotus. Herodotus
+says, &ldquo;Very few things happen at the right time, and the
+rest do not happen at all: the conscientious historian will
+correct these defects.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The cats in the chair do not belong to me, but to another.</p>
+
+<p>These are all the exceptions. What is left of the book
+is mine.</p>
+
+<p style="text-align: right">MARK TWAIN.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Lone Tree Hill</span>, <span
+class="smcap">Dublin</span>,<br />
+<span class="smcap">New Hampshire</span>, <i>October</i>,
+1905.</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>Part I</h2>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page1"></a>I<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">SOLDIER BOY&mdash;PRIVATELY TO
+HIMSELF</span></h2>
+
+<p>I <span class="smcap">am</span> Buffalo Bill&rsquo;s
+horse. I have spent my life under his saddle&mdash;with him
+in it, too, and he is good for two hundred pounds, without his
+clothes; and there is no telling how much he does weigh when he
+is out on the war-path and has his batteries belted on. He
+is over six feet, is young, hasn&rsquo;t an ounce of waste flesh,
+is straight, graceful, springy in his motions, quick as a cat,
+and has a handsome face, and black hair dangling down on his
+shoulders, and is beautiful to look at; and nobody is braver than
+he is, and nobody is stronger, except myself. Yes, a person
+that doubts that he is fine to see should see him in his beaded
+buck-skins, on my back and his rifle peeping above his shoulder,
+chasing a hostile trail, with me going like the wind and his hair
+streaming out behind from the shelter of his broad slouch.
+Yes, he is a sight to look at then&mdash;and I&rsquo;m part of it
+myself.</p>
+
+<p>I am his favorite horse, out of dozens. Big as he is, I
+have carried him eighty-one miles between nightfall and sunrise
+on the scout; and I am good for fifty, day in and day out, and
+all the time. I am not large, but I am built on a business
+basis. I have carried him thousands and thousands of miles
+on scout duty for the army, and there&rsquo;s not a gorge, nor a
+pass, nor a valley, nor a fort, nor a trading post, nor a
+buffalo-range in the whole sweep of the Rocky Mountains and the
+Great Plains that we don&rsquo;t know as well as we know the
+bugle-calls. He is Chief of Scouts to the Army of the
+Frontier, and it makes us very important. In such a
+position as I hold in the military service one needs to be of
+good family and possess an education much above the common to be
+worthy of the place. I am the best-educated horse outside
+of the hippodrome, everybody says, and the best-mannered.
+It may be so, it is not for me to say; modesty is the best
+policy, I think. Buffalo Bill taught me the most of what I
+know, my mother taught me much, and I taught myself the
+rest. Lay a row of moccasins before me&mdash;Pawnee, Sioux,
+Shoshone, Cheyenne, Blackfoot, and as many other tribes as you
+please&mdash;and I can name the tribe every moccasin belongs to
+by the make of it. Name it in horse-talk, and could do it
+in American if I had speech.</p>
+
+<p>I know some of the Indian signs&mdash;the signs they make with
+their hands, and by signal-fires at night and columns of smoke by
+day. Buffalo Bill taught me how to drag wounded soldiers
+out of the line of fire with my teeth; and I&rsquo;ve done it,
+too; at least I&rsquo;ve dragged <i>him</i> out of the battle
+when he was wounded. And not just once, but twice.
+Yes, I know a lot of things. I remember forms, and gaits,
+and faces; and you can&rsquo;t disguise a person that&rsquo;s
+done me a kindness so that I won&rsquo;t know him thereafter
+wherever I find him. I know the art of searching for a
+trail, and I know the stale track from the fresh. I can
+keep a trail all by myself, with Buffalo Bill asleep in the
+saddle; ask him&mdash;he will tell you so. Many a time,
+when he has ridden all night, he has said to me at dawn,
+&ldquo;Take the watch, Boy; if the trail freshens, call
+me.&rdquo; Then he goes to sleep. He knows he can
+trust me, because I have a reputation. A scout horse that
+has a reputation does not play with it.</p>
+
+<p>My mother was all American&mdash;no alkali-spider about
+<i>her</i>, I can tell you; she was of the best blood of
+Kentucky, the bluest Blue-grass aristocracy, very proud and
+acrimonious&mdash;or maybe it is ceremonious. I don&rsquo;t
+know which it is. But it is no matter; size is the main
+thing about a word, and that one&rsquo;s up to standard.
+She spent her military life as colonel of the Tenth Dragoons, and
+saw a deal of rough service&mdash;distinguished service it was,
+too. I mean, she <i>carried</i> the Colonel; but it&rsquo;s
+all the same. Where would he be without his horse? He
+wouldn&rsquo;t arrive. It takes two to make a colonel of
+dragoons. She was a fine dragoon horse, but never got above
+that. She was strong enough for the scout service, and had
+the endurance, too, but she couldn&rsquo;t quite come up to the
+speed required; a scout horse has to have steel in his muscle and
+lightning in his blood.</p>
+
+<p>My father was a bronco. Nothing as to lineage&mdash;that
+is, nothing as to recent lineage&mdash;but plenty good enough
+when you go a good way back. When Professor Marsh was out
+here hunting bones for the chapel of Yale University he found
+skeletons of horses no bigger than a fox, bedded in the rocks,
+and he said they were ancestors of my father. My mother
+heard him say it; and he said those skeletons were two million
+years old, which astonished her and made her Kentucky pretensions
+look small and pretty antiphonal, not to say oblique. Let
+me see. . . . I used to know the meaning of those words, but . .
+. well, it was years ago, and &rsquo;tisn&rsquo;t as vivid now as
+it was when they were fresh. That sort of words
+doesn&rsquo;t keep, in the kind of climate we have out
+here. Professor Marsh said those skeletons were
+fossils. So that makes me part blue grass and part fossil;
+if there is any older or better stock, you will have to look for
+it among the Four Hundred, I reckon. I am satisfied with
+it. And am a happy horse, too, though born out of
+wedlock.</p>
+
+<p>And now we are back at Fort Paxton once more, after a
+forty-day scout, away up as far as the Big Horn. Everything
+quiet. Crows and Blackfeet squabbling&mdash;as
+usual&mdash;but no outbreaks, and settlers feeling fairly
+easy.</p>
+
+<p>The Seventh Cavalry still in garrison, here; also the Ninth
+Dragoons, two artillery companies, and some infantry. All
+glad to see me, including General Alison, commandant. The
+officers&rsquo; ladies and children well, and called upon
+me&mdash;with sugar. Colonel Drake, Seventh Cavalry, said
+some pleasant things; Mrs. Drake was very complimentary; also
+Captain and Mrs. Marsh, Company B, Seventh Cavalry; also the
+Chaplain, who is always kind and pleasant to me, because I kicked
+the lungs out of a trader once. It was Tommy Drake and
+Fanny Marsh that furnished the sugar&mdash;nice children, the
+nicest at the post, I think.</p>
+
+<p>That poor orphan child is on her way from
+France&mdash;everybody is full of the subject. Her father
+was General Alison&rsquo;s brother; married a beautiful young
+Spanish lady ten years ago, and has never been in America
+since. They lived in Spain a year or two, then went to
+France. Both died some months ago. This little girl
+that is coming is the only child. General Alison is glad to
+have her. He has never seen her. He is a very nice
+old bachelor, but is an old bachelor just the same and
+isn&rsquo;t more than about a year this side of retirement by age
+limit; and so what does he know about taking care of a little
+maid nine years old? If I could have her it would be
+another matter, for I know all about children, and they adore
+me. Buffalo Bill will tell you so himself.</p>
+
+<p>I have some of this news from over-hearing the
+garrison-gossip, the rest of it I got from Potter, the
+General&rsquo;s dog. Potter is the great Dane. He is
+privileged, all over the post, like Shekels, the Seventh
+Cavalry&rsquo;s dog, and visits everybody&rsquo;s quarters and
+picks up everything that is going, in the way of news.
+Potter has no imagination, and no great deal of culture, perhaps,
+but he has a historical mind and a good memory, and so he is the
+person I depend upon mainly to post me up when I get back from a
+scout. That is, if Shekels is out on depredation and I
+can&rsquo;t get hold of him.</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page12"></a>II<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">LETTER FROM ROUEN&mdash;TO GENERAL
+ALISON</span></h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap"><i>My</i></span><i> dear
+Brother-in-Law</i>,&mdash;Please let me write again in Spanish, I
+cannot trust my English, and I am aware, from what your brother
+used to say, that army officers educated at the Military Academy
+of the United States are taught our tongue. It is as I told
+you in my other letter: both my poor sister and her husband, when
+they found they could not recover, expressed the wish that you
+should have their little Catherine&mdash;as knowing that you
+would presently be retired from the army&mdash;rather than that
+she should remain with me, who am broken in health, or go to your
+mother in California, whose health is also frail.</p>
+
+<p>You do not know the child, therefore I must tell you something
+about her. You will not be ashamed of her looks, for she is
+a copy in little of her beautiful mother&mdash;and it is that
+Andalusian beauty which is not surpassable, even in your
+country. She has her mother&rsquo;s charm and grace and
+good heart and sense of justice, and she has her father&rsquo;s
+vivacity and cheerfulness and pluck and spirit of enterprise,
+with the affectionate disposition and sincerity of both
+parents.</p>
+
+<p>My sister pined for her Spanish home all these years of exile;
+she was always talking of Spain to the child, and tending and
+nourishing the love of Spain in the little thing&rsquo;s heart as
+a precious flower; and she died happy in the knowledge that the
+fruitage of her patriotic labors was as rich as even she could
+desire.</p>
+
+<p>Cathy is a sufficiently good little scholar, for her nine
+years; her mother taught her Spanish herself, and kept it always
+fresh upon her ear and her tongue by hardly ever speaking with
+her in any other tongue; her father was her English teacher, and
+talked with her in that language almost exclusively; French has
+been her everyday speech for more than seven years among her
+playmates here; she has a good working use of
+governess&mdash;German and Italian. It is true that there
+is always a faint foreign fragrance about her speech, no matter
+what language she is talking, but it is only just noticeable,
+nothing more, and is rather a charm than a mar, I think. In
+the ordinary child-studies Cathy is neither before nor behind the
+average child of nine, I should say. But I can say this for
+her: in love for her friends and in high-mindedness and
+good-heartedness she has not many equals, and in my opinion no
+superiors. And I beg of you, let her have her way with the
+dumb animals&mdash;they are her worship. It is an
+inheritance from her mother. She knows but little of
+cruelties and oppressions&mdash;keep them from her sight if you
+can. She would flare up at them and make trouble, in her
+small but quite decided and resolute way; for she has a character
+of her own, and lacks neither promptness nor initiative.
+Sometimes her judgment is at fault, but I think her intentions
+are always right. Once when she was a little creature of
+three or four years she suddenly brought her tiny foot down upon
+the floor in an apparent outbreak of indignation, then fetched it
+a backward wipe, and stooped down to examine the result.
+Her mother said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, what is it, child? What has stirred you
+so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mamma, the big ant was trying to kill the little
+one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And so you protected the little one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, mamma, because he had no friend, and I
+wouldn&rsquo;t let the big one kill him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you have killed them both.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Cathy was distressed, and her lip trembled. She picked
+up the remains and laid them upon her palm, and said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor little anty, I&rsquo;m so sorry; and I
+didn&rsquo;t mean to kill you, but there wasn&rsquo;t any other
+way to save you, it was such a hurry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She is a dear and sweet little lady, and when she goes it will
+give me a sore heart. But she will be happy with you, and
+if your heart is old and tired, give it into her keeping; she
+will make it young again, she will refresh it, she will make it
+sing. Be good to her, for all our sakes!</p>
+
+<p>My exile will soon be over now. As soon as I am a little
+stronger I shall see my Spain again; and that will make me young
+again!</p>
+
+<p style="text-align: right"><span
+class="smcap">Mercedes</span>.</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page19"></a>III<br
+/>
+<span class="GutSmall">GENERAL ALISON TO HIS MOTHER</span></h2>
+
+<p>I <span class="smcap">am</span> glad to know that you are all
+well, in San Bernardino.</p>
+
+<p>. . . That grandchild of yours has been here&mdash;well, I do
+not quite know how many days it is; nobody can keep account of
+days or anything else where she is! Mother, she did what
+the Indians were never able to do. She took the
+Fort&mdash;took it the first day! Took me, too; took the
+colonels, the captains, the women, the children, and the dumb
+brutes; took Buffalo Bill, and all his scouts; took the
+garrison&mdash;to the last man; and in forty-eight hours the
+Indian encampment was hers, illustrious old Thunder-Bird and
+all. Do I seem to have lost my solemnity, my gravity, my
+poise, my dignity? You would lose your own, in my
+circumstances. Mother, you never saw such a winning little
+devil. She is all energy, and spirit, and sunshine, and
+interest in everybody and everything, and pours out her prodigal
+love upon every creature that will take it, high or low,
+Christian or pagan, feathered or furred; and none has declined it
+to date, and none ever will, I think. But she has a temper,
+and sometimes it catches fire and flames up, and is likely to
+burn whatever is near it; but it is soon over, the passion goes
+as quickly as it comes. Of course she has an Indian name
+already; Indians always rechristen a stranger early.
+Thunder-Bird attended to her case. He gave her the Indian
+equivalent for firebug, or fire-fly. He said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;Times, ver&rsquo; quiet, ver&rsquo; soft, like
+summer night, but when she mad she blaze.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Isn&rsquo;t it good? Can&rsquo;t you see the
+flare? She&rsquo;s beautiful, mother, beautiful as a
+picture; and there is a touch of you in her face, and of her
+father&mdash;poor George! and in her unresting activities, and
+her fearless ways, and her sunbursts and cloudbursts, she is
+always bringing George back to me. These impulsive natures
+are dramatic. George was dramatic, so is this
+Lightning-Bug, so is Buffalo Bill. When Cathy first
+arrived&mdash;it was in the forenoon&mdash;Buffalo Bill was away,
+carrying orders to Major Fuller, at Five Forks, up in the Clayton
+Hills. At mid-afternoon I was at my desk, trying to work,
+and this sprite had been making it impossible for half an
+hour. At last I said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you bewitching little scamp, <i>can&rsquo;t</i> you
+be quiet just a minute or two, and let your poor old uncle attend
+to a part of his duties?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll try, uncle; I will, indeed,&rdquo; she
+said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, that&rsquo;s a good child&mdash;kiss
+me. Now, then, sit up in that chair, and set your eye on
+that clock. There&mdash;that&rsquo;s right. If you
+stir&mdash;if you so much as wink&mdash;for four whole minutes,
+I&rsquo;ll bite you!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was very sweet and humble and obedient she looked, sitting
+there, still as a mouse; I could hardly keep from setting her
+free and telling her to make as much racket as she wanted
+to. During as much as two minutes there was a most
+unnatural and heavenly quiet and repose, then Buffalo Bill came
+thundering up to the door in all his scout finery, flung himself
+out of the saddle, said to his horse, &ldquo;Wait for me,
+Boy,&rdquo; and stepped in, and stopped dead in his
+tracks&mdash;gazing at the child. She forgot orders, and
+was on the floor in a moment, saying:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you are so beautiful! Do you like
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I don&rsquo;t, I love you!&rdquo; and he gathered
+her up with a hug, and then set her on his
+shoulder&mdash;apparently nine feet from the floor.</p>
+
+<p>She was at home. She played with his long hair, and
+admired his big hands and his clothes and his carbine, and asked
+question after question, as fast as he could answer, until I
+excused them both for half an hour, in order to have a chance to
+finish my work. Then I heard Cathy exclaiming over Soldier
+Boy; and he was worthy of her raptures, for he is a wonder of a
+horse, and has a reputation which is as shining as his own silken
+hide.</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page25"></a>IV<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">CATHY TO HER AUNT MERCEDES</span></h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Oh</span>, it is wonderful here, aunty
+dear, just paradise! Oh, if you could only see it!
+everything so wild and lovely; such grand plains, stretching such
+miles and miles and miles, all the most delicious velvety sand
+and sage-brush, and rabbits as big as a dog, and such tall and
+noble jackassful ears that that is what they name them by; and
+such vast mountains, and so rugged and craggy and lofty, with
+cloud-shawls wrapped around their shoulders, and looking so
+solemn and awful and satisfied; and the charming Indians, oh, how
+you would dote on them, aunty dear, and they would on you, too,
+and they would let you hold their babies, the way they do me, and
+they <i>are</i> the fattest, and brownest, and sweetest little
+things, and never cry, and wouldn&rsquo;t if they had pins
+sticking in them, which they haven&rsquo;t, because they are poor
+and can&rsquo;t afford it; and the horses and mules and cattle
+and dogs&mdash;hundreds and hundreds and hundreds, and not an
+animal that you can&rsquo;t do what you please with, except uncle
+Thomas, but <i>I</i> don&rsquo;t mind him, he&rsquo;s lovely; and
+oh, if you could hear the bugles:
+<i>too&mdash;too&mdash;too-too&mdash;too&mdash;too</i>, and so
+on&mdash;perfectly beautiful! Do you recognize that
+one? It&rsquo;s the first toots of the <i>reveille</i>; it
+goes, dear me, <i>so</i> early in the morning!&mdash;then I and
+every other soldier on the whole place are up and out in a
+minute, except uncle Thomas, who is most unaccountably lazy, I
+don&rsquo;t know why, but I have talked to him about it, and I
+reckon it will be better, now. He hasn&rsquo;t any faults
+much, and is charming and sweet, like Buffalo Bill, and
+Thunder-Bird, and Mammy Dorcas, and Soldier Boy, and Shekels, and
+Potter, and Sour-Mash, and&mdash;well, they&rsquo;re <i>all</i>
+that, just angels, as you may say.</p>
+
+<p>The very first day I came, I don&rsquo;t know how long ago it
+was, Buffalo Bill took me on Soldier Boy to Thunder-Bird&rsquo;s
+camp, not the big one which is out on the plain, which is White
+Cloud&rsquo;s, he took me to <i>that</i> one next day, but this
+one is four or five miles up in the hills and crags, where there
+is a great shut-in meadow, full of Indian lodges and dogs and
+squaws and everything that is interesting, and a brook of the
+clearest water running through it, with white pebbles on the
+bottom and trees all along the banks cool and shady and good to
+wade in, and as the sun goes down it is dimmish in there, but
+away up against the sky you see the big peaks towering up and
+shining bright and vivid in the sun, and sometimes an eagle
+sailing by them, not flapping a wing, the same as if he was
+asleep; and young Indians and girls romping and laughing and
+carrying on, around the spring and the pool, and not much clothes
+on except the girls, and dogs fighting, and the squaws busy at
+work, and the bucks busy resting, and the old men sitting in a
+bunch smoking, and passing the pipe not to the left but to the
+right, which means there&rsquo;s been a row in the camp and they
+are settling it if they can, and children playing <i>just</i> the
+same as any other children, and little boys shooting at a mark
+with bows, and I cuffed one of them because he hit a dog with a
+club that wasn&rsquo;t doing anything, and he resented it but
+before long he wished he hadn&rsquo;t: but this sentence is
+getting too long and I will start another. Thunder-Bird put
+on his Sunday-best war outfit to let me see him, and he was
+splendid to look at, with his face painted red and bright and
+intense like a fire-coal and a valance of eagle feathers from the
+top of his head all down his back, and he had his tomahawk, too,
+and his pipe, which has a stem which is longer than my arm, and I
+never had such a good time in an Indian camp in my life, and I
+learned a lot of words of the language, and next day BB took me
+to the camp out on the Plains, four miles, and I had another good
+time and got acquainted with some more Indians and dogs; and the
+big chief, by the name of White Cloud, gave me a pretty little
+bow and arrows and I gave him my red sash-ribbon, and in four
+days I could shoot very well with it and beat any white boy of my
+size at the post; and I have been to those camps plenty of times
+since; and I have learned to ride, too, BB taught me, and every
+day he practises me and praises me, and every time I do better
+than ever he lets me have a scamper on Soldier Boy, and
+<i>that&rsquo;s</i> the last agony of pleasure! for he is the
+charmingest horse, and so beautiful and shiny and black, and
+hasn&rsquo;t another color on him anywhere, except a white star
+in his forehead, not just an imitation star, but a real one, with
+four points, shaped exactly like a star that&rsquo;s hand-made,
+and if you should cover him all up but his star you would know
+him anywhere, even in Jerusalem or Australia, by that. And
+I got acquainted with a good many of the Seventh Cavalry, and the
+dragoons, and officers, and families, and horses, in the first
+few days, and some more in the next few and the next few and the
+next few, and now I know more soldiers and horses than you can
+think, no matter how hard you try. I am keeping up my
+studies every now and then, but there isn&rsquo;t much time for
+it. I love you so! and I send you a hug and a kiss.</p>
+
+<p style="text-align: right"><span
+class="smcap">Cathy</span>.</p>
+
+<p>P.S.&mdash;I belong to the Seventh Cavalry and Ninth Dragoons,
+I am an officer, too, and do not have to work on account of not
+getting any wages.</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page33"></a>>V<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">GENERAL ALISON TO MERCEDES</span></h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">She</span> has been with us a good nice
+long time, now. You are troubled about your sprite because
+this is such a wild frontier, hundreds of miles from
+civilization, and peopled only by wandering tribes of
+savages? You fear for her safety? Give yourself no
+uneasiness about her. Dear me, she&rsquo;s in a nursery!
+and she&rsquo;s got more than eighteen hundred nurses. It
+would distress the garrison to suspect that you think they
+can&rsquo;t take care of her. They think they can.
+They would tell you so themselves. You see, the Seventh
+Cavalry has never had a child of its very own before, and neither
+has the Ninth Dragoons; and so they are like all new mothers,
+they think there is no other child like theirs, no other child so
+wonderful, none that is so worthy to be faithfully and tenderly
+looked after and protected. These bronzed veterans of mine
+are very good mothers, I think, and wiser than some other
+mothers; for they let her take lots of risks, and it is a good
+education for her; and the more risks she takes and comes
+successfully out of, the prouder they are of her. They
+adopted her, with grave and formal military ceremonies of their
+own invention&mdash;solemnities is the truer word; solemnities
+that were so profoundly solemn and earnest, that the spectacle
+would have been comical if it hadn&rsquo;t been so
+touching. It was a good show, and as stately and complex as
+guard-mount and the trooping of the colors; and it had its own
+special music, composed for the occasion by the bandmaster of the
+Seventh; and the child was as serious as the most serious
+war-worn soldier of them all; and finally when they throned her
+upon the shoulder of the oldest veteran, and pronounced her
+&ldquo;well and truly adopted,&rdquo; and the bands struck up and
+all saluted and she saluted in return, it was better and more
+moving than any kindred thing I have seen on the stage, because
+stage things are make-believe, but this was real and the
+players&rsquo; hearts were in it.</p>
+
+<p>It happened several weeks ago, and was followed by some
+additional solemnities. The men created a couple of new
+ranks, thitherto unknown to the army regulations, and conferred
+them upon Cathy, with ceremonies suitable to a duke. So now
+she is Corporal-General of the Seventh Cavalry, and
+Flag-Lieutenant of the Ninth Dragoons, with the privilege
+(decreed by the men) of writing U.S.A. after her name!
+Also, they presented her a pair of shoulder-straps&mdash;both
+dark blue, the one with F. L. on it, the other with C. G.
+Also, a sword. She wears them. Finally, they granted
+her the <i>salute</i>. I am witness that that ceremony is
+faithfully observed by both parties&mdash;and most gravely and
+decorously, too. I have never seen a soldier smile yet,
+while delivering it, nor Cathy in returning it.</p>
+
+<p>Ostensibly I was not present at these proceedings, and am
+ignorant of them; but I was where I could see. I was afraid
+of one thing&mdash;the jealousy of the other children of the
+post; but there is nothing of that, I am glad to say. On
+the contrary, they are proud of their comrade and her
+honors. It is a surprising thing, but it is true. The
+children are devoted to Cathy, for she has turned their dull
+frontier life into a sort of continuous festival; also they know
+her for a stanch and steady friend, a friend who can always be
+depended upon, and does not change with the weather.</p>
+
+<p>She has become a rather extraordinary rider, under the
+tutorship of a more than extraordinary teacher&mdash;BB, which is
+her pet name for Buffalo Bill. She pronounces it
+<i>beeby</i>. He has not only taught her seventeen ways of
+breaking her neck, but twenty-two ways of avoiding it. He
+has infused into her the best and surest protection of a
+horseman&mdash;<i>confidence</i>. He did it gradually,
+systematically, little by little, a step at a time, and each step
+made sure before the next was essayed. And so he inched her
+along up through terrors that had been discounted by training
+before she reached them, and therefore were not recognizable as
+terrors when she got to them. Well, she is a daring little
+rider, now, and is perfect in what she knows of
+horsemanship. By-and-by she will know the art like a West
+Point cadet, and will exercise it as fearlessly. She
+doesn&rsquo;t know anything about side-saddles. Does that
+distress you? And she is a fine performer, without any
+saddle at all. Does that discomfort you? Do not let
+it; she is not in any danger, I give you my word.</p>
+
+<p>You said that if my heart was old and tired she would refresh
+it, and you said truly. I do not know how I got along
+without her, before. I was a forlorn old tree, but now that
+this blossoming vine has wound itself about me and become the
+life of my life, it is very different. As a furnisher of
+business for me and for Mammy Dorcas she is exhaustlessly
+competent, but I like my share of it and of course Dorcas likes
+hers, for Dorcas &ldquo;raised&rdquo; George, and Cathy is George
+over again in so many ways that she brings back Dorcas&rsquo;s
+youth and the joys of that long-vanished time. My father
+tried to set Dorcas free twenty years ago, when we still lived in
+Virginia, but without success; she considered herself a member of
+the family, and wouldn&rsquo;t go. And so, a member of the
+family she remained, and has held that position unchallenged ever
+since, and holds it now; for when my mother sent her here from
+San Bernardino when we learned that Cathy was coming, she only
+changed from one division of the family to the other. She
+has the warm heart of her race, and its lavish affections, and
+when Cathy arrived the pair were mother and child in five
+minutes, and that is what they are to date and will
+continue. Dorcas really thinks she raised George, and that
+is one of her prides, but perhaps it was a mutual raising, for
+their ages were the same&mdash;thirteen years short of
+mine. But they were playmates, at any rate; as regards
+that, there is no room for dispute.</p>
+
+<p>Cathy thinks Dorcas is the best Catholic in America except
+herself. She could not pay any one a higher compliment than
+that, and Dorcas could not receive one that would please her
+better. Dorcas is satisfied that there has never been a
+more wonderful child than Cathy. She has conceived the
+curious idea that Cathy is <i>twins</i>, and that one of them is
+a boy-twin and failed to get segregated&mdash;got submerged, is
+the idea. To argue with her that this is nonsense is a
+waste of breath&mdash;her mind is made up, and arguments do not
+affect it. She says:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look at her; she loves dolls, and girl-plays, and
+everything a girl loves, and she&rsquo;s gentle and sweet, and
+ain&rsquo;t cruel to dumb brutes&mdash;now that&rsquo;s the
+girl-twin, but she loves boy-plays, and drums and fifes and
+soldiering, and rough-riding, and ain&rsquo;t afraid of anybody
+or anything&mdash;and that&rsquo;s the boy-twin; &rsquo;deed you
+needn&rsquo;t tell <i>me</i> she&rsquo;s only <i>one</i> child;
+no, sir, she&rsquo;s twins, and one of them got shet up out of
+sight. Out of sight, but that don&rsquo;t make any
+difference, that boy is in there, and you can see him look out of
+her eyes when her temper is up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Dorcas went on, in her simple and earnest way, to furnish
+illustrations.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look at that raven, Marse Tom. Would anybody
+befriend a raven but that child? Of course they
+wouldn&rsquo;t; it ain&rsquo;t natural. Well, the Injun boy
+had the raven tied up, and was all the time plaguing it and
+starving it, and she pitied the po&rsquo; thing, and tried to buy
+it from the boy, and the tears was in her eyes. That was
+the girl-twin, you see. She offered him her thimble, and he
+flung it down; she offered him all the doughnuts she had, which
+was two, and he flung them down; she offered him half a paper of
+pins, worth forty ravens, and he made a mouth at her and jabbed
+one of them in the raven&rsquo;s back. That was the limit,
+you know. It called for the other twin. Her eyes
+blazed up, and she jumped for him like a wild-cat, and when she
+was done with him she was rags and he wasn&rsquo;t anything but
+an allegory. That was most undoubtedly the other twin, you
+see, coming to the front. No, sir; don&rsquo;t tell
+<i>me</i> he ain&rsquo;t in there. I&rsquo;ve seen him with
+my own eyes&mdash;and plenty of times, at that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Allegory? What is an allegory?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, Marse Tom, it&rsquo;s one of her
+words; she loves the big ones, you know, and I pick them up from
+her; they sound good and I can&rsquo;t help it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What happened after she had converted the boy into an
+allegory?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, she untied the raven and confiscated him by force
+and fetched him home, and left the doughnuts and things on the
+ground. Petted him, of course, like she does with every
+creature. In two days she had him so stuck after her that
+she&mdash;well, <i>you</i> know how he follows her everywhere,
+and sets on her shoulder often when she rides her breakneck
+rampages&mdash;all of which is the girl-twin to the front, you
+see&mdash;and he does what he pleases, and is up to all kinds of
+devilment, and is a perfect nuisance in the kitchen. Well,
+they all stand it, but they wouldn&rsquo;t if it was another
+person&rsquo;s bird.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here she began to chuckle comfortably, and presently she
+said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, you know, she&rsquo;s a nuisance herself, Miss
+Cathy is, she <i>is</i> so busy, and into everything, like that
+bird. It&rsquo;s all just as innocent, you know, and she
+don&rsquo;t mean any harm, and is so good and dear; and it
+ain&rsquo;t her fault, it&rsquo;s her nature; her interest is
+always a-working and always red-hot, and she can&rsquo;t keep
+quiet. Well, yesterday it was &lsquo;Please, Miss Cathy,
+don&rsquo;t do that&rsquo;; and, &lsquo;Please, Miss Cathy, let
+that alone&rsquo;; and, &lsquo;Please, Miss Cathy, don&rsquo;t
+make so much noise&rsquo;; and so on and so on, till I reckon I
+had found fault fourteen times in fifteen minutes; then she
+looked up at me with her big brown eyes that can plead so, and
+said in that odd little foreign way that goes to your heart,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;Please, mammy, make me a compliment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And of course you did it, you old fool?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Marse Tom, I just grabbed her up to my breast and says,
+&lsquo;Oh, you po&rsquo; dear little motherless thing, you
+ain&rsquo;t got a fault in the world, and you can do anything you
+want to, and tear the house down, and yo&rsquo; old black mammy
+won&rsquo;t say a word!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, of course, of course&mdash;<i>I</i> knew
+you&rsquo;d spoil the child.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She brushed away her tears, and said with dignity:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Spoil the child? spoil <i>that</i> child, Marse
+Tom? There can&rsquo;t <i>anybody</i> spoil her.
+She&rsquo;s the king bee of this post, and everybody pets her and
+is her slave, and yet, as you know, your own self, she
+ain&rsquo;t the least little bit spoiled.&rdquo; Then she
+eased her mind with this retort: &ldquo;Marse Tom, she makes you
+do anything she wants to, and you can&rsquo;t deny it; so if she
+could be spoilt, she&rsquo;d been spoilt long ago, because you
+are the very <i>worst</i>! Look at that pile of cats in
+your chair, and you sitting on a candle-box, just as patient;
+it&rsquo;s because they&rsquo;re her cats.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a name="image48" href="images/p48b.jpg">
+<img alt="&ldquo;&lsquo;Look at that pile of cats in your
+chair&rsquo;&rdquo;"
+title="&ldquo;&lsquo;Look at that pile of cats in your
+chair&rsquo;&rdquo;"
+ src="images/p48s.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>If Dorcas were a soldier, I could punish her for such large
+frankness as that. I changed the subject, and made her
+resume her illustrations. She had scored against me fairly,
+and I wasn&rsquo;t going to cheapen her victory by disputing
+it. She proceeded to offer this incident in evidence on her
+twin theory:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Two weeks ago when she got her finger mashed open, she
+turned pretty pale with the pain, but she never said a
+word. I took her in my lap, and the surgeon sponged off the
+blood and took a needle and thread and began to sew it up; it had
+to have a lot of stitches, and each one made her scrunch a
+little, but she never let go a sound. At last the surgeon
+was so full of admiration that he said, &lsquo;Well, you
+<i>are</i> a brave little thing!&rsquo; and she said, just as
+ca&rsquo;m and simple as if she was talking about the weather,
+&lsquo;There isn&rsquo;t anybody braver but the Cid!&rsquo;
+You see? it was the boy-twin that the surgeon was a-dealing
+with.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is the Cid?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, sir&mdash;at least only what she
+says. She&rsquo;s always talking about him, and says he was
+the bravest hero Spain ever had, or any other country. They
+have it up and down, the children do, she standing up for the
+Cid, and they working George Washington for all he is
+worth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do they quarrel?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; it&rsquo;s only disputing, and bragging, the way
+children do. They want her to be an American, but she
+can&rsquo;t be anything but a Spaniard, she says. You see,
+her mother was always longing for home, po&rsquo; thing! and
+thinking about it, and so the child is just as much a Spaniard as
+if she&rsquo;d always lived there. She thinks she remembers
+how Spain looked, but I reckon she don&rsquo;t, because she was
+only a baby when they moved to France. She is very proud to
+be a Spaniard.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Does that please you, Mercedes? Very well, be content;
+your niece is loyal to her allegiance: her mother laid deep the
+foundations of her love for Spain, and she will go back to you as
+good a Spaniard as you are yourself. She has made me
+promise to take her to you for a long visit when the War Office
+retires me.</p>
+
+<p>I attend to her studies myself; has she told you that?
+Yes, I am her school-master, and she makes pretty good progress,
+I think, everything considered. Everything
+considered&mdash;being translated&mdash;means holidays. But
+the fact is, she was not born for study, and it comes hard.
+Hard for me, too; it hurts me like a physical pain to see that
+free spirit of the air and the sunshine laboring and grieving
+over a book; and sometimes when I find her gazing far away
+towards the plain and the blue mountains with the longing in her
+eyes, I have to throw open the prison doors; I can&rsquo;t help
+it. A quaint little scholar she is, and makes plenty of
+blunders. Once I put the question:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What does the Czar govern?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She rested her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand and
+took that problem under deep consideration. Presently she
+looked up and answered, with a rising inflection implying a shade
+of uncertainty,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The dative case?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here are a couple of her expositions which were delivered with
+tranquil confidence:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Chaplain</i>, diminutive of chap. <i>Lass</i>
+is masculine, <i>lassie</i> is feminine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She is not a genius, you see, but just a normal child; they
+all make mistakes of that sort. There is a glad light in
+her eye which is pretty to see when she finds herself able to
+answer a question promptly and accurately, without any
+hesitation; as, for instance, this morning:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Cathy dear, what is a cube?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, a native of Cuba.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She still drops a foreign word into her talk now and then, and
+there is still a subtle foreign flavor or fragrance about even
+her exactest English&mdash;and long may this abide! for it has
+for me a charm that is very pleasant. Sometimes her English
+is daintily prim and bookish and captivating. She has a
+child&rsquo;s sweet tooth, but for her health&rsquo;s sake I try
+to keep its inspirations under check. She is
+obedient&mdash;as is proper for a titled and recognized military
+personage, which she is&mdash;but the chain presses
+sometimes. For instance, we were out for a walk, and passed
+by some bushes that were freighted with wild goose-berries.
+Her face brightened and she put her hands together and delivered
+herself of this speech, most feelingly:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, if I was permitted a vice it would be the
+<i>gourmandise</i>!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Could I resist that? No. I gave her a
+gooseberry.</p>
+
+<p>You ask about her languages. They take care of
+themselves; they will not get rusty here; our regiments are not
+made up of natives alone&mdash;far from it. And she is
+picking up Indian tongues diligently.</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page56"></a>VI<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">SOLDIER BOY AND THE MEXICAN
+PLUG</span></h2>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">When</span> did you
+come?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Arrived at sundown.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where from?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Salt Lake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you in the service?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. Trade.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pirate trade, I reckon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you know about it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I saw you when you came. I recognized your
+master. He is a bad sort. Trap-robber, horse-thief,
+squaw-man, renegado&mdash;Hank Butters&mdash;I know him very
+well. Stole you, didn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it amounted to that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought so. Where is his pard?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He stopped at White Cloud&rsquo;s camp.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is another of the same stripe, is Blake
+Haskins.&rdquo; (<i>Aside</i>.) They are laying for
+Buffalo Bill again, I guess. (<i>Aloud</i>.)
+&ldquo;What is your name?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Which one?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you got more than one?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I get a new one every time I&rsquo;m stolen. I
+used to have an honest name, but that was early; I&rsquo;ve
+forgotten it. Since then I&rsquo;ve had thirteen
+<i>aliases</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Aliases? What is alias?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A false name.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alias. It&rsquo;s a fine large word, and is in my
+line; it has quite a learned and cerebrospinal incandescent
+sound. Are you educated?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, no, I can&rsquo;t claim it. I can take down
+bars, I can distinguish oats from shoe-pegs, I can blaspheme a
+saddle-boil with the college-bred, and I know a few other
+things&mdash;not many; I have had no chance, I have always had to
+work; besides, I am of low birth and no family. You speak
+my dialect like a native, but you are not a Mexican Plug, you are
+a gentleman, I can see that; and educated, of course.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I am of old family, and not illiterate. I am
+a fossil.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A which?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fossil. The first horses were fossils. They
+date back two million years.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gr-eat sand and sage-brush! do you mean it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, it is true. The bones of my ancestors are
+held in reverence and worship, even by men. They do not
+leave them exposed to the weather when they find them, but carry
+them three thousand miles and enshrine them in their temples of
+learning, and worship them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is wonderful! I knew you must be a person of
+distinction, by your fine presence and courtly address, and by
+the fact that you are not subjected to the indignity of hobbles,
+like myself and the rest. Would you tell me your
+name?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have probably heard of it&mdash;Soldier
+Boy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What!&mdash;the renowned, the illustrious?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Even so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It takes my breath! Little did I dream that ever
+I should stand face to face with the possessor of that great
+name. Buffalo Bill&rsquo;s horse! Known from the
+Canadian border to the deserts of Arizona, and from the eastern
+marches of the Great Plains to the foot-hills of the
+Sierra! Truly this is a memorable day. You still
+serve the celebrated Chief of Scouts?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am still his property, but he has lent me, for a
+time, to the most noble, the most gracious, the most excellent,
+her Excellency Catherine, Corporal-General Seventh Cavalry and
+Flag-Lieutenant Ninth Dragoons, U.S.A.,&mdash;on whom be
+peace!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Amen. Did you say <i>her</i>
+Excellency?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The same. A Spanish lady, sweet blossom of a
+ducal house. And truly a wonder; knowing everything,
+capable of everything; speaking all the languages, master of all
+sciences, a mind without horizons, a heart of gold, the glory of
+her race! On whom be peace!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Amen. It is marvellous!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Verily. I knew many things, she has taught me
+others. I am educated. I will tell you about
+her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I listen&mdash;I am enchanted.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will tell a plain tale, calmly, without excitement,
+without eloquence. When she had been here four or five
+weeks she was already erudite in military things, and they made
+her an officer&mdash;a double officer. She rode the drill
+every day, like any soldier; and she could take the bugle and
+direct the evolutions herself. Then, on a day, there was a
+grand race, for prizes&mdash;none to enter but the
+children. Seventeen children entered, and she was the
+youngest. Three girls, fourteen boys&mdash;good riders
+all. It was a steeplechase, with four hurdles, all pretty
+high. The first prize was a most cunning half-grown silver
+bugle, and mighty pretty, with red silk cord and tassels.
+Buffalo Bill was very anxious; for he had taught her to ride, and
+he did most dearly want her to win that race, for the glory of
+it. So he wanted her to ride me, but she wouldn&rsquo;t;
+and she reproached him, and said it was unfair and unright, and
+taking advantage; for what horse in this post or any other could
+stand a chance against me? and she was very severe with him, and
+said, &lsquo;You ought to be ashamed&mdash;you are proposing to
+me conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman.&rsquo; So
+he just tossed her up in the air about thirty feet and caught her
+as she came down, and said he was ashamed; and put up his
+handkerchief and pretended to cry, which nearly broke her heart,
+and she petted him, and begged him to forgive her, and said she
+would do anything in the world he could ask but that; but he said
+he ought to go hang himself, and he <i>must</i>, if he could get
+a rope; it was nothing but right he should, for he never, never
+could forgive himself; and then <i>she</i> began to cry, and they
+both sobbed, the way you could hear him a mile, and she clinging
+around his neck and pleading, till at last he was comforted a
+little, and gave his solemn promise he wouldn&rsquo;t hang
+himself till after the race; and wouldn&rsquo;t do it at all if
+she won it, which made her happy, and she said she would win it
+or die in the saddle; so then everything was pleasant again and
+both of them content. He can&rsquo;t help playing jokes on
+her, he is so fond of her and she is so innocent and
+unsuspecting; and when she finds it out she cuffs him and is in a
+fury, but presently forgives him because it&rsquo;s him; and
+maybe the very next day she&rsquo;s caught with another joke; you
+see she can&rsquo;t learn any better, because she hasn&rsquo;t
+any deceit in her, and that kind aren&rsquo;t ever expecting it
+in another person.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was a grand race. The whole post was there,
+and there was such another whooping and shouting when the
+seventeen kids came flying down the turf and sailing over the
+hurdles&mdash;oh, beautiful to see! Half-way down, it was
+kind of neck and neck, and anybody&rsquo;s race and
+nobody&rsquo;s. Then, what should happen but a cow steps
+out and puts her head down to munch grass, with her broadside to
+the battalion, and they a-coming like the wind; they split apart
+to flank her, but <i>she</i>?&mdash;why, she drove the spurs home
+and soared over that cow like a bird! and on she went, and
+cleared the last hurdle solitary and alone, the army letting
+loose the grand yell, and she skipped from the horse the same as
+if he had been standing still, and made her bow, and everybody
+crowded around to congratulate, and they gave her the bugle, and
+she put it to her lips and blew &lsquo;boots and saddles&rsquo;
+to see how it would go, and BB was as proud as you can&rsquo;t
+think! And he said, &lsquo;Take Soldier Boy, and
+don&rsquo;t pass him back till I ask for him!&rsquo; and I can
+tell you he wouldn&rsquo;t have said that to any other person on
+this planet. That was two months and more ago, and nobody
+has been on my back since but the Corporal-General Seventh
+Cavalry and Flag-Lieutenant of the Ninth Dragoons,
+U.S.A.,&mdash;on whom be peace!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a name="image66" href="images/p66b.jpg">
+<img alt="Every morning they go clattering down into the plain"
+title="Every morning they go clattering down into the plain"
+ src="images/p66s.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Amen. I listen&mdash;tell me more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She set to work and organized the Sixteen, and called
+it the First Battalion Rocky Mountain Rangers, U.S.A., and she
+wanted to be bugler, but they elected her Lieutenant-General and
+Bugler. So she ranks her uncle the commandant, who is only
+a Brigadier. And doesn&rsquo;t she train those little
+people! Ask the Indians, ask the traders, ask the soldiers;
+they&rsquo;ll tell you. She has been at it from the first
+day. Every morning they go clattering down into the plain,
+and there she sits on my back with her bugle at her mouth and
+sounds the orders and puts them through the evolutions for an
+hour or more; and it is too beautiful for anything to see those
+ponies dissolve from one formation into another, and waltz about,
+and break, and scatter, and form again, always moving, always
+graceful, now trotting, now galloping, and so on, sometimes near
+by, sometimes in the distance, all just like a state ball, you
+know, and sometimes she can&rsquo;t hold herself any longer, but
+sounds the &lsquo;charge,&rsquo; and turns me loose! and you can
+take my word for it, if the battalion hasn&rsquo;t too much of a
+start we catch up and go over the breastworks with the front
+line.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, they are soldiers, those little people; and
+healthy, too, not ailing any more, the way they used to be
+sometimes. It&rsquo;s because of her drill.
+She&rsquo;s got a fort, now&mdash;Fort Fanny Marsh.
+Major-General Tommy Drake planned it out, and the Seventh and
+Dragoons built it. Tommy is the Colonel&rsquo;s son, and is
+fifteen and the oldest in the Battalion; Fanny Marsh is
+Brigadier-General, and is next oldest&mdash;over thirteen.
+She is daughter of Captain Marsh, Company B, Seventh
+Cavalry. Lieutenant-General Alison is the youngest by
+considerable; I think she is about nine and a half or
+three-quarters. Her military rig, as Lieutenant-General,
+isn&rsquo;t for business, it&rsquo;s for dress parade, because
+the ladies made it. They say they got it out of the Middle
+Ages&mdash;out of a book&mdash;and it is all red and blue and
+white silks and satins and velvets; tights, trunks, sword,
+doublet with slashed sleeves, short cape, cap with just one
+feather in it; I&rsquo;ve heard them name these things; they got
+them out of the book; she&rsquo;s dressed like a page, of old
+times, they say. It&rsquo;s the daintiest outfit that ever
+was&mdash;you will say so, when you see it. She&rsquo;s
+lovely in it&mdash;oh, just a dream! In some ways she is
+just her age, but in others she&rsquo;s as old as her uncle, I
+think. She is very learned. She teaches her uncle his
+book. I have seen her sitting by with the book and reciting
+to him what is in it, so that he can learn to do it himself.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Every Saturday she hires little Injuns to garrison her
+fort; then she lays siege to it, and makes military approaches by
+make-believe trenches in make-believe night, and finally at
+make-believe dawn she draws her sword and sounds the assault and
+takes it by storm. It is for practice. And she has
+invented a bugle-call all by herself, out of her own head, and
+it&rsquo;s a stirring one, and the prettiest in the
+service. It&rsquo;s to call <i>me</i>&mdash;it&rsquo;s
+never used for anything else. She taught it to me, and told
+me what it says: &lsquo;<i>It is I</i>,
+<i>Soldier&mdash;come</i>!&rsquo; and when those thrilling notes
+come floating down the distance I hear them without fail, even if
+I am two miles away; and then&mdash;oh, then you should see my
+heels get down to business!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And she has taught me how to say good-morning and
+good-night to her, which is by lifting my right hoof for her to
+shake; and also how to say good-bye; I do that with my left
+foot&mdash;but only for practice, because there hasn&rsquo;t been
+any but make-believe good-byeing yet, and I hope there
+won&rsquo;t ever be. It would make me cry if I ever had to
+put up my left foot in earnest. She has taught me how to
+salute, and I can do it as well as a soldier. I bow my head
+low, and lay my right hoof against my cheek. She taught me
+that because I got into disgrace once, through ignorance. I
+am privileged, because I am known to be honorable and
+trustworthy, and because I have a distinguished record in the
+service; so they don&rsquo;t hobble me nor tie me to stakes or
+shut me tight in stables, but let me wander around to suit
+myself. Well, trooping the colors is a very solemn
+ceremony, and everybody must stand uncovered when the flag goes
+by, the commandant and all; and once I was there, and ignorantly
+walked across right in front of the band, which was an awful
+disgrace: Ah, the Lieutenant-General was so ashamed, and so
+distressed that I should have done such a thing before all the
+world, that she couldn&rsquo;t keep the tears back; and then she
+taught me the salute, so that if I ever did any other unmilitary
+act through ignorance I could do my salute and she believed
+everybody would think it was apology enough and would not press
+the matter. It is very nice and distinguished; no other
+horse can do it; often the men salute me, and I return it.
+I am privileged to be present when the Rocky Mountain Rangers
+troop the colors and I stand solemn, like the children, and I
+salute when the flag goes by. Of course when she goes to
+her fort her sentries sing out &lsquo;Turn out the guard!&rsquo;
+and then . . . do you catch that refreshing early-morning whiff
+from the mountain-pines and the wild flowers? The night is
+far spent; we&rsquo;ll hear the bugles before long. Dorcas,
+the black woman, is very good and nice; she takes care of the
+Lieutenant-General, and is Brigadier-General Alison&rsquo;s
+mother, which makes her mother-in-law to the
+Lieutenant-General. That is what Shekels says. At
+least it is what I think he says, though I never can understand
+him quite clearly. He&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is Shekels?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Seventh Cavalry dog. I mean, if he <i>is</i>
+a dog. His father was a coyote and his mother was a
+wild-cat. It doesn&rsquo;t really make a dog out of him,
+does it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a real dog, I should think. Only a kind of a
+general dog, at most, I reckon. Though this is a matter of
+ichthyology, I suppose; and if it is, it is out of my depth, and
+so my opinion is not valuable, and I don&rsquo;t claim much
+consideration for it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t ichthyology; it is dogmatics, which is
+still more difficult and tangled up. Dogmatics always
+are.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dogmatics is quite beyond me, quite; so I am not
+competing. But on general principles it is my opinion that
+a colt out of a coyote and a wild-cat is no square dog, but
+doubtful. That is my hand, and I stand pat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it is as far as I can go myself, and be fair and
+conscientious. I have always regarded him as a doubtful
+dog, and so has Potter. Potter is the great Dane.
+Potter says he is no dog, and not even poultry&mdash;though I do
+not go quite so far as that.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I wouldn&rsquo;t, myself. Poultry is one of
+those things which no person can get to the bottom of, there is
+so much of it and such variety. It is just wings, and
+wings, and wings, till you are weary: turkeys, and geese, and
+bats, and butterflies, and angels, and grasshoppers, and
+flying-fish, and&mdash;well, there is really no end to the tribe;
+it gives me the heaves just to think of it. But this one
+hasn&rsquo;t any wings, has he?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, in my belief he is more likely to be dog
+than poultry. I have not heard of poultry that hadn&rsquo;t
+wings. Wings is the <i>sign</i> of poultry; it is what you
+tell poultry by. Look at the mosquito.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What do you reckon he is, then? He must be
+something.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, he could be a reptile; anything that hasn&rsquo;t
+wings is a reptile.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who told you that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nobody told me, but I overheard it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where did you overhear it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Years ago. I was with the Philadelphia Institute
+expedition in the Bad Lands under Professor Cope, hunting
+mastodon bones, and I overheard him say, his own self, that any
+plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium that hadn&rsquo;t
+wings and was uncertain was a reptile. Well, then, has this
+dog any wings? No. Is he a plantigrade circumflex
+vertebrate bacterium? Maybe so, maybe not; but without ever
+having seen him, and judging only by his illegal and spectacular
+parentage, I will bet the odds of a bale of hay to a bran mash
+that he looks it. Finally, is he uncertain? That is
+the point&mdash;is he uncertain? I will leave it to you if
+you have ever heard of a more uncertainer dog than what this one
+is?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I never have.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, he&rsquo;s a reptile. That&rsquo;s
+settled.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, look here, whatsyourname&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Last alias, Mongrel.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A good one, too. I was going to say, you are
+better educated than you have been pretending to be. I like
+cultured society, and I shall cultivate your acquaintance.
+Now as to Shekels, whenever you want to know about any private
+thing that is going on at this post or in White Cloud&rsquo;s
+camp or Thunder-Bird&rsquo;s, he can tell you; and if you make
+friends with him he&rsquo;ll be glad to, for he is a born gossip,
+and picks up all the tittle-tattle. Being the whole Seventh
+Cavalry&rsquo;s reptile, he doesn&rsquo;t belong to anybody in
+particular, and hasn&rsquo;t any military duties; so he comes and
+goes as he pleases, and is popular with all the house cats and
+other authentic sources of private information. He
+understands all the languages, and talks them all, too.
+With an accent like gritting your teeth, it is true, and with a
+grammar that is no improvement on blasphemy&mdash;still, with
+practice you get at the meat of what he says, and it serves. . .
+Hark! That&rsquo;s the reveille. . . .</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/p80b.jpg">
+<img alt="Music score for The Reveille"
+title="Music score for The Reveille"
+ src="images/p80s.jpg" /></a>
+<a name="citation80"></a><a href="#footnote80"
+class="citation">[80]</a>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Faint and far, but isn&rsquo;t it clear, isn&rsquo;t it
+sweet? There&rsquo;s no music like the bugle to stir the
+blood, in the still solemnity of the morning twilight, with the
+dim plain stretching away to nothing and the spectral mountains
+slumbering against the sky. You&rsquo;ll hear another note
+in a minute&mdash;faint and far and clear, like the other one,
+and sweeter still, you&rsquo;ll notice. Wait . . .
+listen. There it goes! It says, &lsquo;<i>It is
+I</i>, <i>Soldier&mdash;come</i>!&rsquo; . . .</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/p81b.jpg">
+<img alt="Soldier Boy&rsquo;s Bugle Call [music score]"
+title="Soldier Boy&rsquo;s Bugle Call [music score]"
+ src="images/p81s.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>. . . Now then, watch me leave a blue streak
+behind!&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page82"></a>VII<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">SOLDIER BOY AND SHEKELS</span></h2>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Did</span> you do as I told
+you? Did you look up the Mexican Plug?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I made his acquaintance before night and got his
+friendship.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I liked him. Did you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not at first. He took me for a reptile, and it
+troubled me, because I didn&rsquo;t know whether it was a
+compliment or not. I couldn&rsquo;t ask him, because it
+would look ignorant. So I didn&rsquo;t say anything, and
+soon liked him very well indeed. Was it a compliment, do
+you think?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, that is what it was. They are very rare, the
+reptiles; very few left, now-a-days.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is that so? What is a reptile?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is a plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium
+that hasn&rsquo;t any wings and is uncertain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it&mdash;it sounds fine, it surely
+does.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And it <i>is</i> fine. You may be thankful you
+are one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am. It seems wonderfully grand and elegant for
+a person that is so humble as I am; but I am thankful, I am
+indeed, and will try to live up to it. It is hard to
+remember. Will you say it again, please, and say it
+slow?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium that
+hasn&rsquo;t any wings and is uncertain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is beautiful, anybody must grant it; beautiful, and
+of a noble sound. I hope it will not make me proud and
+stuck-up&mdash;I should not like to be that. It is much
+more distinguished and honorable to be a reptile than a dog,
+don&rsquo;t you think, Soldier?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, there&rsquo;s no comparison. It is awfully
+aristocratic. Often a duke is called a reptile; it is set
+down so, in history.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t that grand! Potter wouldn&rsquo;t
+ever associate with me, but I reckon he&rsquo;ll be glad to when
+he finds out what I am.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can depend upon it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will thank Mongrel for this. He is a very good sort,
+for a Mexican Plug. Don&rsquo;t you think he is?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is my opinion of him; and as for his birth, he
+cannot help that. We cannot all be reptiles, we cannot all
+be fossils; we have to take what comes and be thankful it is no
+worse. It is the true philosophy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For those others?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stick to the subject, please. Did it turn out
+that my suspicions were right?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, perfectly right. Mongrel has heard them
+planning. They are after BB&rsquo;s life, for running them
+out of Medicine Bow and taking their stolen horses away from
+them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, they&rsquo;ll get him yet, for sure.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not if he keeps a sharp look-out.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>He</i> keep a sharp lookout! He never does; he
+despises them, and all their kind. His life is always being
+threatened, and so it has come to be monotonous.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Does he know they are here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh yes, he knows it. He is always the earliest to
+know who comes and who goes. But he cares nothing for them
+and their threats; he only laughs when people warn him.
+They&rsquo;ll shoot him from behind a tree the first he
+knows. Did Mongrel tell you their plans?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. They have found out that he starts for Fort
+Clayton day after to-morrow, with one of his scouts; so they will
+leave to-morrow, letting on to go south, but they will fetch
+around north all in good time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shekels, I don&rsquo;t like the look of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page88"></a>VIII<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">THE SCOUT-START. BB AND
+LIEUTENANT-GENERAL ALISON</span></h2>
+
+<p>BB (<i>saluting</i>). &ldquo;Good! handsomely
+done! The Seventh couldn&rsquo;t beat it! You do
+certainly handle your Rangers like an expert, General. And
+where are you bound?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Four miles on the trail to Fort Clayton.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Glad am I, dear! What&rsquo;s the idea of
+it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Guard of honor for you and Thorndike.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bless&mdash;your&mdash;<i>heart</i>! I&rsquo;d
+rather have it from you than from the Commander-in-Chief of the
+armies of the United States, you incomparable little
+soldier!&mdash;and I don&rsquo;t need to take any oath to that,
+for you to believe it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I <i>thought</i> you&rsquo;d like it, BB.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Like</i> it? Well, I should say so! Now
+then&mdash;all ready&mdash;sound the advance, and away we
+go!&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page90"></a>IX<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">SOLDIER BOY AND SHEKELS AGAIN</span></h2>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Well</span>, this is the way it
+happened. We did the escort duty; then we came back and
+struck for the plain and put the Rangers through a rousing
+drill&mdash;oh, for hours! Then we sent them home under
+Brigadier-General Fanny Marsh; then the Lieutenant-General and I
+went off on a gallop over the plains for about three hours, and
+were lazying along home in the middle of the afternoon, when we
+met Jimmy Slade, the drummer-boy, and he saluted and asked the
+Lieutenant-General if she had heard the news, and she said no,
+and he said:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Buffalo Bill has been ambushed and badly shot
+this side of Clayton, and Thorndike the scout, too; Bill
+couldn&rsquo;t travel, but Thorndike could, and he brought the
+news, and Sergeant Wilkes and six men of Company B are gone, two
+hours ago, hotfoot, to get Bill. And they
+say&mdash;&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;<i>Go</i>!&rsquo; she shouts to me&mdash;and I
+went.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fast?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t ask foolish questions. It was an
+awful pace. For four hours nothing happened, and not a word
+said, except that now and then she said, &lsquo;Keep it up, Boy,
+keep it up, sweetheart; we&rsquo;ll save him!&rsquo; I kept
+it up. Well, when the dark shut down, in the rugged hills,
+that poor little chap had been tearing around in the saddle all
+day, and I noticed by the slack knee-pressure that she was tired
+and tottery, and I got dreadfully afraid; but every time I tried
+to slow down and let her go to sleep, so I could stop, she
+hurried me up again; and so, sure enough, at last over she
+went!</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a name="image92" href="images/p92b.jpg">
+<img alt="&ldquo;There was nothing to do but stand by&rdquo;"
+title="&ldquo;There was nothing to do but stand by&rdquo;"
+ src="images/p92s.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, that was a fix to be in I for she lay there and
+didn&rsquo;t stir, and what was I to do? I couldn&rsquo;t
+leave her to fetch help, on account of the wolves. There
+was nothing to do but stand by. It was dreadful. I
+was afraid she was killed, poor little thing! But she
+wasn&rsquo;t. She came to, by-and-by, and said, &lsquo;Kiss
+me, Soldier,&rsquo; and those were blessed words. I kissed
+her&mdash;often; I am used to that, and we like it. But she
+didn&rsquo;t get up, and I was worried. She fondled my nose
+with her hand, and talked to me, and called me endearing
+names&mdash;which is her way&mdash;but she caressed with the same
+hand all the time. The other arm was broken, you see, but I
+didn&rsquo;t know it, and she didn&rsquo;t mention it. She
+didn&rsquo;t want to distress me, you know.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Soon the big gray wolves came, and hung around, and you
+could hear them snarl, and snap at each other, but you
+couldn&rsquo;t see anything of them except their eyes, which
+shone in the dark like sparks and stars. The
+Lieutenant-General said, &lsquo;If I had the Rocky Mountain
+Rangers here, we would make those creatures climb a
+tree.&rsquo; Then she made believe that the Rangers were in
+hearing, and put up her bugle and blew the
+&lsquo;assembly&rsquo;; and then, &lsquo;boots and
+saddles&rsquo;; then the &lsquo;trot&rsquo;;
+&lsquo;gallop&rsquo;; &lsquo;charge!&rsquo; Then she blew
+the &lsquo;retreat,&rsquo; and said, &lsquo;That&rsquo;s for you,
+you rebels; the Rangers don&rsquo;t ever retreat!&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The music frightened them away, but they were hungry,
+and kept coming back. And of course they got bolder and
+bolder, which is their way. It went on for an hour, then
+the tired child went to sleep, and it was pitiful to hear her
+moan and nestle, and I couldn&rsquo;t do anything for her.
+All the time I was laying for the wolves. They are in my
+line; I have had experience. At last the boldest one
+ventured within my lines, and I landed him among his friends with
+some of his skull still on him, and they did the rest. In
+the next hour I got a couple more, and they went the way of the
+first one, down the throats of the detachment. That
+satisfied the survivors, and they went away and left us in
+peace.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We hadn&rsquo;t any more adventures, though I kept
+awake all night and was ready. From midnight on the child
+got very restless, and out of her head, and moaned, and said,
+&lsquo;Water, water&mdash;thirsty&rsquo;; and now and then,
+&lsquo;Kiss me, Soldier&rsquo;; and sometimes she was in her fort
+and giving orders to her garrison; and once she was in Spain, and
+thought her mother was with her. People say a horse
+can&rsquo;t cry; but they don&rsquo;t know, because we cry
+inside.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was an hour after sunup that I heard the boys
+coming, and recognized the hoof-beats of Pomp and C&aelig;sar and
+Jerry, old mates of mine; and a welcomer sound there
+couldn&rsquo;t ever be.</p>
+
+<p>Buffalo Bill was in a horse-litter, with his leg broken by a
+bullet, and Mongrel and Blake Haskins&rsquo;s horse were doing
+the work. Buffalo Bill and Thorndike had lolled both of
+those toughs.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When they got to us, and Buffalo Bill saw the child
+lying there so white, he said, &lsquo;My God!&rsquo; and the
+sound of his voice brought her to herself, and she gave a little
+cry of pleasure and struggled to get up, but couldn&rsquo;t, and
+the soldiers gathered her up like the tenderest women, and their
+eyes were wet and they were not ashamed, when they saw her arm
+dangling; and so were Buffalo Bill&rsquo;s, and when they laid
+her in his arms he said, &lsquo;My darling, how does this
+come?&rsquo; and she said, &lsquo;We came to save you, but I was
+tired, and couldn&rsquo;t keep awake, and fell off and hurt
+myself, and couldn&rsquo;t get on again.&rsquo; &lsquo;You
+came to save me, you dear little rat? It was too lovely of
+you!&rsquo; &lsquo;Yes, and Soldier stood by me, which you
+know he would, and protected me from the wolves; and if he got a
+chance he kicked the life out of some of them&mdash;for you know
+he would, BB.&rsquo; The sergeant said, &lsquo;He laid out
+three of them, sir, and here&rsquo;s the bones to show for
+it.&rsquo; &lsquo;He&rsquo;s a grand horse,&rsquo; said BB;
+&lsquo;he&rsquo;s the grandest horse that ever was! and has saved
+your life, Lieutenant-General Alison, and shall protect it the
+rest of his life&mdash;he&rsquo;s yours for a kiss!&rsquo;
+He got it, along with a passion of delight, and he said,
+&lsquo;You are feeling better now, little Spaniard&mdash;do you
+think you could blow the advance?&rsquo; She put up the
+bugle to do it, but he said wait a minute first. Then he
+and the sergeant set her arm and put it in splints, she wincing
+but not whimpering; then we took up the march for home, and
+that&rsquo;s the end of the tale; and I&rsquo;m her horse.
+Isn&rsquo;t she a brick, Shekels?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Brick? She&rsquo;s more than a brick, more than a
+thousand bricks&mdash;she&rsquo;s a reptile!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a compliment out of your heart,
+Shekels. God bless you for it!&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page100"></a>X<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">GENERAL ALISON AND DORCAS</span></h2>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Too</span> much company for her,
+Marse Tom. Betwixt you, and Shekels, the Colonel&rsquo;s
+wife, and the Cid&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Cid? Oh, I remember&mdash;the
+raven.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&mdash;and Mrs. Captain Marsh and Famine and Pestilence
+the baby <i>coyotes</i>, and Sour-Mash and her pups, and
+Sardanapalus and her kittens&mdash;hang these names she gives the
+creatures, they warp my jaw&mdash;and Potter: you&mdash;all
+sitting around in the house, and Soldier Boy at the window the
+entire time, it&rsquo;s a wonder to me she comes along as well as
+she does. She&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You want her all to yourself, you stingy old
+thing!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Marse Tom, you know better. It&rsquo;s too much
+company. And then the idea of her receiving reports all the
+time from her officers, and acting upon them, and giving orders,
+the same as if she was well! It ain&rsquo;t good for her,
+and the surgeon don&rsquo;t like it, and tried to persuade her
+not to and couldn&rsquo;t; and when he <i>ordered</i> her, she
+was that outraged and indignant, and was very severe on him, and
+accused him of insubordination, and said it didn&rsquo;t become
+him to give orders to an officer of her rank. Well, he saw
+he had excited her more and done more harm than all the rest put
+together, so he was vexed at himself and wished he had kept
+still. Doctors <i>don&rsquo;t</i> know much, and
+that&rsquo;s a fact. She&rsquo;s too much interested in
+things&mdash;she ought to rest more. She&rsquo;s all the
+time sending messages to BB, and to soldiers and Injuns and
+whatnot, and to the animals.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To the animals?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who carries them?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sometimes Potter, but mostly it&rsquo;s
+Shekels.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now come! who can find fault with such pretty
+make-believe as that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But it ain&rsquo;t make-believe, Marse Tom. She
+does send them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I don&rsquo;t doubt that part of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you doubt they get them, sir?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly. Don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, sir. Animals talk to one another. I
+know it perfectly well, Marse Tom, and I ain&rsquo;t saying it by
+guess.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a curious superstition!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It ain&rsquo;t a superstition, Marse Tom. Look at
+that Shekels&mdash;look at him, <i>now</i>. Is he
+listening, or ain&rsquo;t he? <i>Now</i> you see!
+he&rsquo;s turned his head away. It&rsquo;s because he was
+caught&mdash;caught in the act. I&rsquo;ll ask
+you&mdash;could a Christian look any more ashamed than what he
+looks now?&mdash;<i>lay down</i>! You see? he was going to
+sneak out. Don&rsquo;t tell <i>me</i>, Marse Tom! If
+animals don&rsquo;t talk, I miss <i>my</i> guess. And
+Shekels is the worst. He goes and tells the animals
+everything that happens in the officers&rsquo; quarters; and if
+he&rsquo;s short of facts, he invents them. He hasn&rsquo;t
+any more principle than a blue jay; and as for morals, he&rsquo;s
+empty. Look at him now; look at him grovel. He knows
+what I am saying, and he knows it&rsquo;s the truth. You
+see, yourself, that he can feel shame; it&rsquo;s the only virtue
+he&rsquo;s got. It&rsquo;s wonderful how they find out
+everything that&rsquo;s going on&mdash;the animals.
+They&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you really believe they do, Dorcas?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t only just believe it, Marse Tom, I know
+it. Day before yesterday they knew something was going to
+happen. They were that excited, and whispering around
+together; why, anybody could see that they&mdash; But my! I must
+get back to her, and I haven&rsquo;t got to my errand
+yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it, Dorcas?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it&rsquo;s two or three things. One is, the
+doctor don&rsquo;t salute when he comes . . . Now, Marse Tom, it
+ain&rsquo;t anything to laugh at, and so&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, forgive me; I didn&rsquo;t mean to
+laugh&mdash;I got caught unprepared.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see, she don&rsquo;t want to hurt the
+doctor&rsquo;s feelings, so she don&rsquo;t say anything to him
+about it; but she is always polite, herself, and it hurts that
+kind for people to be rude to them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have that doctor hanged.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Marse Tom, she don&rsquo;t <i>want</i> him
+hanged. She&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, I&rsquo;ll have him boiled in
+oil.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But she don&rsquo;t <i>want</i> him boiled.
+I&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, very well, very well, I only want to please her;
+I&rsquo;ll have him skinned.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, <i>she</i> don&rsquo;t want him skinned; it would
+break her heart. Now&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Woman, this is perfectly unreasonable. What in
+the nation <i>does</i> she want?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Marse Tom, if you would only be a little patient, and
+not fly off the handle at the least little thing. Why, she
+only wants you to speak to him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Speak to him! Well, upon my word! All this
+unseemly rage and row about such a&mdash;a&mdash; Dorcas, I never
+saw you carry on like this before. You have alarmed the
+sentry; he thinks I am being assassinated; he thinks
+there&rsquo;s a mutiny, a revolt, an insurrection;
+he&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Marse Tom, you are just putting on; you know it
+perfectly well; I don&rsquo;t know what makes you act like
+that&mdash;but you always did, even when you was little, and you
+can&rsquo;t get over it, I reckon. Are you over it now,
+Marse Tom?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, well, yes; but it would try anybody to be doing the
+best he could, offering every kindness he could think of, only to
+have it rejected with contumely and . . . Oh, well, let it go;
+it&rsquo;s no matter&mdash;I&rsquo;ll talk to the doctor.
+Is that satisfactory, or are you going to break out
+again?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir, it is; and it&rsquo;s only right to talk to
+him, too, because it&rsquo;s just as she says; she&rsquo;s trying
+to keep up discipline in the Rangers, and this insubordination of
+his is a bad example for them&mdash;now ain&rsquo;t it so, Marse
+Tom?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, there <i>is</i> reason in it, I can&rsquo;t deny
+it; so I will speak to him, though at bottom I think hanging
+would be more lasting. What is the rest of your errand,
+Dorcas?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course her room is Ranger headquarters now, Marse
+Tom, while she&rsquo;s sick. Well, soldiers of the cavalry
+and the dragoons that are off duty come and get her sentries to
+let them relieve them and serve in their place. It&rsquo;s
+only out of affection, sir, and because they know military honors
+please her, and please the children too, for her sake; and they
+don&rsquo;t bring their muskets; and so&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve noticed them there, but didn&rsquo;t twig
+the idea. They are standing guard, are they?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir, and she is afraid you will reprove them and
+hurt their feelings, if you see them there; so she begs,
+if&mdash;if you don&rsquo;t mind coming in the back
+way&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bear me up, Dorcas; don&rsquo;t let me
+faint.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There&mdash;sit up and behave, Marse Tom. You are
+not going to faint; you are only pretending&mdash;you used to act
+just so when you was little; it does seem a long time for you to
+get grown up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dorcas, the way the child is progressing, I shall be
+out of my job before long&mdash;she&rsquo;ll have the whole post
+in her hands. I must make a stand, I must not go down
+without a struggle. These encroachments. . . . Dorcas, what
+do you think she will think of next?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Marse Tom, she don&rsquo;t mean any harm.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you sure of it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Marse Tom.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You feel sure she has no ulterior designs?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what that is, Marse Tom, but I know
+she hasn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well, then, for the present I am satisfied.
+What else have you come about?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I reckon I better tell you the whole thing first, Marse
+Tom, then tell you what she wants. There&rsquo;s been an
+emeute, as she calls it. It was before she got back with
+BB. The officer of the day reported it to her this
+morning. It happened at her fort. There was a fuss
+betwixt Major-General Tommy Drake and Lieutenant-Colonel Agnes
+Frisbie, and he snatched her doll away, which is made of white
+kid stuffed with sawdust, and tore every rag of its clothes off,
+right before them all, and is under arrest, and the charge is
+conduct un&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I know&mdash;conduct unbecoming an officer and a
+gentleman&mdash;a plain case, too, it seems to me. This is
+a serious matter. Well, what is her pleasure?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Marse Tom, she has summoned a court-martial, but
+the doctor don&rsquo;t think she is well enough to preside over
+it, and she says there ain&rsquo;t anybody competent but her,
+because there&rsquo;s a major-general concerned; and so
+she&mdash;she&mdash;well, she says, would you preside over it for
+her? . . . Marse Tom, <i>sit</i> up! You ain&rsquo;t any
+more going to faint than Shekels is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look here, Dorcas, go along back, and be tactful.
+Be persuasive; don&rsquo;t fret her; tell her it&rsquo;s all
+right, the matter is in my hands, but it isn&rsquo;t good form to
+hurry so grave a matter as this. Explain to her that we
+have to go by precedents, and that I believe this one to be
+new. In fact, you can say I know that nothing just like it
+has happened in our army, therefore I must be guided by European
+precedents, and must go cautiously and examine them
+carefully. Tell her not to be impatient, it will take me
+several days, but it will all come out right, and I will come
+over and report progress as I go along. Do you get the
+idea, Dorcas?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know as I do, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it&rsquo;s this. You see, it won&rsquo;t
+ever do for me, a brigadier in the regular army, to preside over
+that infant court-martial&mdash;there isn&rsquo;t any precedent
+for it, don&rsquo;t you see. Very well. I will go on
+examining authorities and reporting progress until she is well
+enough to get me out of this scrape by presiding herself.
+Do you get it now?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes, sir, I get it, and it&rsquo;s good, I&rsquo;ll
+go and fix it with her. <i>Lay down</i>! and stay where you
+are.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, what harm is he doing?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it ain&rsquo;t any harm, but it just vexes me to
+see him act so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What was he doing?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you see, and him in such a sweat? He
+was starting out to spread it all over the post. <i>Now</i>
+I reckon you won&rsquo;t deny, any more, that they go and tell
+everything they hear, now that you&rsquo;ve seen it with
+yo&rsquo; own eyes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I don&rsquo;t like to acknowledge it, Dorcas, but
+I don&rsquo;t see how I can consistently stick to my doubts in
+the face of such overwhelming proof as this dog is
+furnishing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There, now, you&rsquo;ve got in yo&rsquo; right mind at
+last! I wonder you can be so stubborn, Marse Tom. But
+you always was, even when you was little. I&rsquo;m going
+now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look here; tell her that in view of the delay, it is my
+judgment that she ought to enlarge the accused on his
+parole.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir, I&rsquo;ll tell her. Marse
+Tom?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She can&rsquo;t get to Soldier Boy, and he stands there
+all the time, down in the mouth and lonesome; and she says will
+you shake hands with him and comfort him? Everybody
+does.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a curious kind of lonesomeness; but, all
+right, I will.&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page116"></a>XI<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">SEVERAL MONTHS LATER. ANTONIO AND
+THORNDIKE</span></h2>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Thorndike</span>, isn&rsquo;t that
+Plug you&rsquo;re riding an asset of the scrap you and Buffalo
+Bill had with the late Blake Haskins and his pal a few months
+back?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, this is Mongrel&mdash;and not a half-bad horse,
+either.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve noticed he keeps up his lick
+first-rate. Say&mdash;isn&rsquo;t it a gaudy
+morning?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Right you are!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thorndike, it&rsquo;s Andalusian! and when that&rsquo;s
+said, all&rsquo;s said.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Andalusian <i>and</i> Oregonian, Antonio! Put it
+that way, and you have my vote. Being a native up there, I
+know. You being Andalusian-born&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can speak with authority for that patch of
+paradise? Well, I can. Like the Don! like
+Sancho! This is the correct Andalusian dawn
+now&mdash;crisp, fresh, dewy, fragrant, pungent&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;&lsquo;What though the spicy breezes<br />
+Blow soft o&rsquo;er Ceylon&rsquo;s isle&mdash;&rsquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>&mdash;<i>git</i> up, you old cow! stumbling like that when
+we&rsquo;ve just been praising you! out on a scout and
+can&rsquo;t live up to the honor any better than that?
+Antonio, how long have you been out here in the Plains and the
+Rockies?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;More than thirteen years.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a long time. Don&rsquo;t you ever get
+homesick?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not till now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why <i>now</i>?&mdash;after such a long
+cure.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;These preparations of the retiring commandant&rsquo;s
+have started it up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course. It&rsquo;s natural.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It keeps me thinking about Spain. I know the
+region where the Seventh&rsquo;s child&rsquo;s aunt lives; I know
+all the lovely country for miles around; I&rsquo;ll bet
+I&rsquo;ve seen her aunt&rsquo;s villa many a time; I&rsquo;ll
+bet I&rsquo;ve been in it in those pleasant old times when I was
+a Spanish gentleman.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They say the child is wild to see Spain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s so; I know it from what I hear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t you talked with her about it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. I&rsquo;ve avoided it. I should soon be
+as wild as she is. That would not be
+comfortable.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish I was going, Antonio. There&rsquo;s two
+things I&rsquo;d give a lot to see. One&rsquo;s a
+railroad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;ll see one when she strikes
+Missouri.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The other&rsquo;s a bull-fight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve seen lots of them; I wish I could see
+another.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know anything about it, except in a
+mixed-up, foggy way, Antonio, but I know enough to know
+it&rsquo;s grand sport.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The grandest in the world! There&rsquo;s no other
+sport that begins with it. I&rsquo;ll tell you what
+I&rsquo;ve seen, then you can judge. It was my first, and
+it&rsquo;s as vivid to me now as it was when I saw it. It
+was a Sunday afternoon, and beautiful weather, and my uncle, the
+priest, took me as a reward for being a good boy and because of
+my own accord and without anybody asking me I had bankrupted my
+savings-box and given the money to a mission that was civilizing
+the Chinese and sweetening their lives and softening their hearts
+with the gentle teachings of our religion, and I wish you could
+have seen what we saw that day, Thorndike.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The amphitheatre was packed, from the bull-ring to the
+highest row&mdash;twelve thousand people in one circling mass,
+one slanting, solid mass&mdash;royalties, nobles, clergy, ladies,
+gentlemen, state officials, generals, admirals, soldiers,
+sailors, lawyers, thieves, merchants, brokers, cooks, housemaids,
+scullery-maids, doubtful women, dudes, gamblers, beggars,
+loafers, tramps, American ladies, gentlemen, preachers, English
+ladies, gentlemen, preachers, German ditto, French ditto, and so
+on and so on, all the world represented: Spaniards to admire and
+praise, foreigners to enjoy and go home and find
+fault&mdash;there they were, one solid, sloping, circling sweep
+of rippling and flashing color under the downpour of the summer
+sun&mdash;just a garden, a gaudy, gorgeous flower-garden!
+Children munching oranges, six thousand fans fluttering and
+glimmering, everybody happy, everybody chatting gayly with their
+intimates, lovely girl-faces smiling recognition and salutation
+to other lovely girl-faces, gray old ladies and gentlemen dealing
+in the like exchanges with each other&mdash;ah, such a picture of
+cheery contentment and glad anticipation! not a mean spirit, nor
+a sordid soul, nor a sad heart there&mdash;ah, Thorndike, I wish
+I could see it again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suddenly, the martial note of a bugle cleaves the hum
+and murmur&mdash;clear the ring!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They clear it. The great gate is flung open, and
+the procession marches in, splendidly costumed and glittering:
+the marshals of the day, then the picadores on horseback, then
+the matadores on foot, each surrounded by his quadrille of
+<i>chulos</i>. They march to the box of the city fathers,
+and formally salute. The key is thrown, the bull-gate is
+unlocked. Another bugle blast&mdash;the gate flies open,
+the bull plunges in, furious, trembling, blinking in the blinding
+light, and stands there, a magnificent creature, centre of those
+multitudinous and admiring eyes, brave, ready for battle, his
+attitude a challenge. He sees his enemy: horsemen sitting
+motionless, with long spears in rest, upon blindfolded
+broken-down nags, lean and starved, fit only for sport and
+sacrifice, then the carrion-heap.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The bull makes a rush, with murder in his eye, but a
+picador meets him with a spear-thrust in the shoulder. He
+flinches with the pain, and the picador skips out of
+danger. A burst of applause for the picador, hisses for the
+bull. Some shout &lsquo;Cow!&rsquo; at the bull, and call
+him offensive names. But he is not listening to them, he is
+there for business; he is not minding the cloak-bearers that come
+fluttering around to confuse him; he chases this way, he chases
+that way, and hither and yon, scattering the nimble banderillos
+in every direction like a spray, and receiving their maddening
+darts in his neck as they dodge and fly&mdash;oh, but it&rsquo;s
+a lively spectacle, and brings down the house! Ah, you
+should hear the thundering roar that goes up when the game is at
+its wildest and brilliant things are done!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, that first bull, that day, was great! From
+the moment the spirit of war rose to flood-tide in him and he got
+down to his work, he began to do wonders. He tore his way
+through his persecutors, flinging one of them clear over the
+parapet; he bowled a horse and his rider down, and plunged
+straight for the next, got home with his horns, wounding both
+horse and man; on again, here and there and this way and that;
+and one after another he tore the bowels out of two horses so
+that they gushed to the ground, and ripped a third one so badly
+that although they rushed him to cover and shoved his bowels back
+and stuffed the rents with tow and rode him against the bull
+again, he couldn&rsquo;t make the trip; he tried to gallop, under
+the spur, but soon reeled and tottered and fell, all in a
+heap. For a while, that bull-ring was the most thrilling
+and glorious and inspiring sight that ever was seen. The
+bull absolutely cleared it, and stood there alone! monarch of the
+place. The people went mad for pride in him, and joy and
+delight, and you couldn&rsquo;t hear yourself think, for the roar
+and boom and crash of applause.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Antonio, it carries me clear out of myself just to hear
+you tell it; it must have been perfectly splendid. If I
+live, I&rsquo;ll see a bull-fight yet before I die. Did
+they kill him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh yes; that is what the bull is for. They tired
+him out, and got him at last. He kept rushing the matador,
+who always slipped smartly and gracefully aside in time, waiting
+for a sure chance; and at last it came; the bull made a deadly
+plunge for him&mdash;was avoided neatly, and as he sped by, the
+long sword glided silently into him, between left shoulder and
+spine&mdash;in and in, to the hilt. He crumpled down,
+dying.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, Antonio, it <i>is</i> the noblest sport that ever
+was. I would give a year of my life to see it. Is the
+bull always killed?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes. Sometimes a bull is timid, finding himself
+in so strange a place, and he stands trembling, or tries to
+retreat. Then everybody despises him for his cowardice and
+wants him punished and made ridiculous; so they hough him from
+behind, and it is the funniest thing in the world to see him
+hobbling around on his severed legs; the whole vast house goes
+into hurricanes of laughter over it; I have laughed till the
+tears ran down my cheeks to see it. When he has furnished
+all the sport he can, he is not any longer useful, and is
+killed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it is perfectly grand, Antonio, perfectly
+beautiful. Burning a nigger don&rsquo;t begin.&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page129"></a>XII<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">MONGREL AND THE OTHER HORSE</span></h2>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="smcap">Sage-Brush</span>, you have been
+listening?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it strange?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, no, Mongrel, I don&rsquo;t know that it
+is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve seen a good many human beings in my
+time. They are created as they are; they cannot help
+it. They are only brutal because that is their make; brutes
+would be brutal if it was <i>their</i> make.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To me, Sage-Brush, man is most strange and
+unaccountable. Why should he treat dumb animals that way
+when they are not doing any harm?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Man is not always like that, Mongrel; he is kind enough
+when he is not excited by religion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is the bull-fight a religious service?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think so. I have heard so. It is held on
+Sunday.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>(<i>A reflective pause</i>, <i>lasting some
+moments</i>.) Then:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When we die, Sage-Brush, do we go to heaven and dwell
+with man?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My father thought not. He believed we do not have
+to go there unless we deserve it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>Part II<br />
+IN SPAIN</h2>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page133"></a>XIII<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">GENERAL ALISON TO HIS MOTHER</span></h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was a prodigious trip, but
+delightful, of course, through the Rockies and the Black Hills
+and the mighty sweep of the Great Plains to civilization and the
+Missouri border&mdash;where the railroading began and the
+delightfulness ended. But no one is the worse for the
+journey; certainly not Cathy, nor Dorcas, nor Soldier Boy; and as
+for me, I am not complaining.</p>
+
+<p>Spain is all that Cathy had pictured it&mdash;and more, she
+says. She is in a fury of delight, the maddest little
+animal that ever was, and all for joy. She thinks she
+remembers Spain, but that is not very likely, I suppose.
+The two&mdash;Mercedes and Cathy&mdash;devour each other.
+It is a rapture of love, and beautiful to see. It is
+Spanish; that describes it. Will this be a short visit?</p>
+
+<p>No. It will be permanent. Cathy has elected to
+abide with Spain and her aunt. Dorcas says she (Dorcas)
+foresaw that this would happen; and also says that she wanted it
+to happen, and says the child&rsquo;s own country is the right
+place for her, and that she ought not to have been sent to me, I
+ought to have gone to her. I thought it insane to take
+Soldier Boy to Spain, but it was well that I yielded to
+Cathy&rsquo;s pleadings; if he had been left behind, half of her
+heart would have remained with him, and she would not have been
+contented. As it is, everything has fallen out for the
+best, and we are all satisfied and comfortable. It may be
+that Dorcas and I will see America again some day; but also it is
+a case of maybe not.</p>
+
+<p>We left the post in the early morning. It was an
+affecting time. The women cried over Cathy, so did even
+those stern warriors, the Rocky Mountain Rangers; Shekels was
+there, and the Cid, and Sardanapalus, and Potter, and Mongrel,
+and Sour-Mash, Famine, and Pestilence, and Cathy kissed them all
+and wept; details of the several arms of the garrison were
+present to represent the rest, and say good-bye and God bless you
+for all the soldiery; and there was a special squad from the
+Seventh, with the oldest veteran at its head, to speed the
+Seventh&rsquo;s Child with grand honors and impressive
+ceremonies; and the veteran had a touching speech by heart, and
+put up his hand in salute and tried to say it, but his lips
+trembled and his voice broke, but Cathy bent down from the saddle
+and kissed him on the mouth and turned his defeat to victory, and
+a cheer went up.</p>
+
+<p>The next act closed the ceremonies, and was a moving
+surprise. It may be that you have discovered, before this,
+that the rigors of military law and custom melt insensibly away
+and disappear when a soldier or a regiment or the garrison wants
+to do something that will please Cathy. The bands conceived
+the idea of stirring her soldierly heart with a farewell which
+would remain in her memory always, beautiful and unfading, and
+bring back the past and its love for her whenever she should
+think of it; so they got their project placed before General
+Burnaby, my successor, who is Cathy&rsquo;s newest slave, and in
+spite of poverty of precedents they got his permission. The
+bands knew the child&rsquo;s favorite military airs. By
+this hint you know what is coming, but Cathy didn&rsquo;t.
+She was asked to sound the &ldquo;reveille,&rdquo; which she
+did.</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/p138b.jpg">
+<img alt="Reveille [music score]"
+title="Reveille [music score]"
+ src="images/p138s.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>With the last note the bands burst out with a crash: and woke
+the mountains with the &ldquo;Star-Spangled Banner&rdquo; in a
+way to make a body&rsquo;s heart swell and thump and his hair
+rise! It was enough to break a person all up, to see
+Cathy&rsquo;s radiant face shining out through her gladness and
+tears. By request she blew the &ldquo;assembly,&rdquo; now.
+. . .</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/p139ab.jpg">
+<img alt="The Assembly [music score]"
+title="The Assembly [music score]"
+ src="images/p139as.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>. . . Then the bands thundered in, with &ldquo;Rally round the
+flag, boys, rally once again!&rdquo; Next, she blew another
+call (&ldquo;to the Standard&rdquo;) . . .</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/p139bb.jpg">
+<img alt="To the Standard [music score]"
+title="To the Standard [music score]"
+ src="images/p139bs.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>. . . and the bands responded with &ldquo;When we were
+marching through Georgia.&rdquo; Straightway she sounded
+&ldquo;boots and saddles,&rdquo; that thrilling and most
+expediting call. . . .</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/p140b.jpg">
+<img alt="Boots and Saddles [music score]"
+title="Boots and Saddles [music score]"
+ src="images/p140s.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>and the bands could hardly hold in for the final note; then
+they turned their whole strength loose on &ldquo;Tramp, tramp,
+tramp, the boys are marching,&rdquo; and everybody&rsquo;s
+excitement rose to blood-heat.</p>
+
+<p>Now an impressive pause&mdash;then the bugle sang &ldquo;<span
+class="smcap">Taps</span>&rdquo;&mdash;translatable, this time,
+into &ldquo;Good-bye, and God keep us all!&rdquo; for taps is the
+soldier&rsquo;s nightly release from duty, and farewell:
+plaintive, sweet, pathetic, for the morning is never sure, for
+him; always it is possible that he is hearing it for the last
+time. . . .</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/p141b.jpg">
+<img alt="Taps [music score]"
+title="Taps [music score]"
+ src="images/p141s.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>. . . Then the bands turned their instruments towards Cathy
+and burst in with that rollicking frenzy of a tune, &ldquo;Oh,
+we&rsquo;ll all get blind drunk when Johnny comes marching
+home&mdash;yes, we&rsquo;ll all get blind drunk when Johnny comes
+marching home!&rdquo; and followed it instantly with
+&ldquo;Dixie,&rdquo; that antidote for melancholy, merriest and
+gladdest of all military music on any side of the ocean&mdash;and
+that was the end. And so&mdash;farewell!</p>
+
+<p>I wish you could have been there to see it all, hear it all,
+and feel it: and get yourself blown away with the hurricane huzza
+that swept the place as a finish.</p>
+
+<p>When we rode away, our main body had already been on the road
+an hour or two&mdash;I speak of our camp equipage; but we
+didn&rsquo;t move off alone: when Cathy blew the
+&ldquo;advance&rdquo; the Rangers cantered out in column of
+fours, and gave us escort, and were joined by White Cloud and
+Thunder-Bird in all their gaudy bravery, and by Buffalo Bill and
+four subordinate scouts. Three miles away, in the Plains,
+the Lieutenant-General halted, sat her horse like a military
+statue, the bugle at her lips, and put the Rangers through the
+evolutions for half an hour; and finally, when she blew the
+&ldquo;charge,&rdquo; she led it herself. &ldquo;Not for
+the last time,&rdquo; she said, and got a cheer, and we said
+good-bye all around, and faced eastward and rode away.</p>
+
+<p><i>Postscript</i>. <i>A Day Later</i>. Soldier Boy
+was stolen last night. Cathy is almost beside herself, and
+we cannot comfort her. Mercedes and I are not much alarmed
+about the horse, although this part of Spain is in something of a
+turmoil, politically, at present, and there is a good deal of
+lawlessness. In ordinary times the thief and the horse
+would soon be captured. We shall have them before long, I
+think.</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page145"></a>XIV<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">SOLDIER BOY&mdash;TO HIMSELF</span></h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is five months. Or is it
+six? My troubles have clouded my memory. I have been
+all over this land, from end to end, and now I am back again
+since day before yesterday, to that city which we passed through,
+that last day of our long journey, and which is near her country
+home. I am a tottering ruin and my eyes are dim, but I
+recognized it. If she could see me she would know me and
+sound my call. I wish I could hear it once more; it would
+revive me, it would bring back her face and the mountains and the
+free life, and I would come&mdash;if I were dying I would
+come! She would not know <i>me</i>, looking as I do, but
+she would know me by my star. But she will never see me,
+for they do not let me out of this shabby stable&mdash;a foul and
+miserable place, with most two wrecks like myself for
+company.</p>
+
+<p>How many times have I changed hands? I think it is
+twelve times&mdash;I cannot remember; and each time it was down a
+step lower, and each time I got a harder master. They have
+been cruel, every one; they have worked me night and day in
+degraded employments, and beaten me; they have fed me ill, and
+some days not at all. And so I am but bones, now, with a
+rough and frowsy skin humped and cornered upon my shrunken
+body&mdash;that skin which was once so glossy, that skin which
+she loved to stroke with her hand. I was the pride of the
+mountains and the Great Plains; now I am a scarecrow and
+despised. These piteous wrecks that are my comrades here
+say we have reached the bottom of the scale, the final
+humiliation; they say that when a horse is no longer worth the
+weeds and discarded rubbish they feed to him, they sell him to
+the bull-ring for a glass of brandy, to make sport for the people
+and perish for their pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>To die&mdash;that does not disturb me; we of the service never
+care for death. But if I could see her once more! if I
+could hear her bugle sing again and say, &ldquo;It is I,
+Soldier&mdash;come!&rdquo;</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2><a name="page149"></a>XV<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">GENERAL ALISON TO MRS. DRAKE, THE
+COLONEL&rsquo;S WIFE</span></h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">To</span> return, now, to where I was, and
+tell you the rest. We shall never know how she came to be
+there; there is no way to account for it. She was always
+watching for black and shiny and spirited horses&mdash;watching,
+hoping, despairing, hoping again; always giving chase and
+sounding her call, upon the meagrest chance of a response, and
+breaking her heart over the disappointment; always inquiring,
+always interested in sales-stables and horse accumulations in
+general. How she got there must remain a mystery.</p>
+
+<p>At the point which I had reached in a preceding paragraph of
+this account, the situation was as follows: two horses lay dying;
+the bull had scattered his persecutors for the moment, and stood
+raging, panting, pawing the dust in clouds over his back, when
+the man that had been wounded returned to the ring on a remount,
+a poor blindfolded wreck that yet had something ironically
+military about his bearing&mdash;and the next moment the bull had
+ripped him open and his bowls were dragging upon the ground: and
+the bull was charging his swarm of pests again. Then came
+pealing through the air a bugle-call that froze my
+blood&mdash;&ldquo;<i>It is I</i>,
+<i>Soldier&mdash;come</i>!&rdquo; I turned; Cathy was
+flying down through the massed people; she cleared the parapet at
+a bound, and sped towards that riderless horse, who staggered
+forward towards the remembered sound; but his strength failed,
+and he fell at her feet, she lavishing kisses upon him and
+sobbing, the house rising with one impulse, and white with
+horror! Before help could reach her the bull was back
+again&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a name="image150" href="images/p150b.jpg">
+<img alt="His strength failed, and he fell at her feet"
+title="His strength failed, and he fell at her feet"
+ src="images/p150s.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>She was never conscious again in life. We bore her home,
+all mangled and drenched in blood, and knelt by her and listened
+to her broken and wandering words, and prayed for her passing
+spirit, and there was no comfort&mdash;nor ever will be, I
+think. But she was happy, for she was far away under
+another sky, and comrading again with her Rangers, and her animal
+friends, and the soldiers. Their names fell softly and
+caressingly from her lips, one by one, with pauses between.
+She was not in pain, but lay with closed eyes, vacantly
+murmuring, as one who dreams. Sometimes she smiled, saying
+nothing; sometimes she smiled when she uttered a name&mdash;such
+as Shekels, or BB, or Potter. Sometimes she was at her
+fort, issuing commands; sometimes she was careering over the
+plain at the head of her men; sometimes she was training her
+horse; once she said, reprovingly, &ldquo;You are giving me the
+wrong foot; give me the left&mdash;don&rsquo;t you know it is
+good-bye?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>After this, she lay silent some time; the end was near.
+By-and-by she murmured, &ldquo;Tired . . . sleepy . . . take
+Cathy, mamma.&rdquo; Then, &ldquo;Kiss me,
+Soldier.&rdquo; For a little time, she lay so still that we
+were doubtful if she breathed. Then she put out her hand
+and began to feel gropingly about; then said, &ldquo;I cannot
+find it; blow &lsquo;taps.&rsquo;&rdquo; It was the
+end.</p>
+
+<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/p153b.jpg">
+<img alt="Taps [music score]"
+title="Taps [music score]"
+ src="images/p153s.jpg" /></a>
+</div>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2>
+
+<p class="footnote">
+<a name="footnote80"></a><a href="#citation80">[80]</a> At West Point the bugle
+is supposed to be saying:</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t get &rsquo;em up,<br />
+I can&rsquo;t get &rsquo;em up,<br />
+I can&rsquo;t get &rsquo;em up in the morning!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A HORSE’S TALE ***</div>
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: A Horse's Tale
+
+Author: Mark Twain
+
+Release Date: October, 1997  [EBook #1086]
+[This file was first posted on October 21, 1997]
+[Most recently updated: June 28, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: US-ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, A HORSE'S TALE ***
+
+
+
+
+Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
+
+
+
+
+A HORSE'S TALE
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I--SOLDIER BOY--PRIVATELY TO HIMSELF
+
+
+
+I am Buffalo Bill's horse.  I have spent my life under his saddle--
+with him in it, too, and he is good for two hundred pounds, without
+his clothes; and there is no telling how much he does weigh when he
+is out on the war-path and has his batteries belted on.  He is over
+six feet, is young, hasn't an ounce of waste flesh, is straight,
+graceful, springy in his motions, quick as a cat, and has a
+handsome face, and black hair dangling down on his shoulders, and
+is beautiful to look at; and nobody is braver than he is, and
+nobody is stronger, except myself.  Yes, a person that doubts that
+he is fine to see should see him in his beaded buck-skins, on my
+back and his rifle peeping above his shoulder, chasing a hostile
+trail, with me going like the wind and his hair streaming out
+behind from the shelter of his broad slouch.  Yes, he is a sight to
+look at then--and I'm part of it myself.
+
+I am his favorite horse, out of dozens.  Big as he is, I have
+carried him eighty-one miles between nightfall and sunrise on the
+scout; and I am good for fifty, day in and day out, and all the
+time.  I am not large, but I am built on a business basis.  I have
+carried him thousands and thousands of miles on scout duty for the
+army, and there's not a gorge, nor a pass, nor a valley, nor a
+fort, nor a trading post, nor a buffalo-range in the whole sweep of
+the Rocky Mountains and the Great Plains that we don't know as well
+as we know the bugle-calls.  He is Chief of Scouts to the Army of
+the Frontier, and it makes us very important.  In such a position
+as I hold in the military service one needs to be of good family
+and possess an education much above the common to be worthy of the
+place.  I am the best-educated horse outside of the hippodrome,
+everybody says, and the best-mannered.  It may be so, it is not for
+me to say; modesty is the best policy, I think.  Buffalo Bill
+taught me the most of what I know, my mother taught me much, and I
+taught myself the rest.  Lay a row of moccasins before me--Pawnee,
+Sioux, Shoshone, Cheyenne, Blackfoot, and as many other tribes as
+you please--and I can name the tribe every moccasin belongs to by
+the make of it.  Name it in horse-talk, and could do it in American
+if I had speech.
+
+I know some of the Indian signs--the signs they make with their
+hands, and by signal-fires at night and columns of smoke by day.
+Buffalo Bill taught me how to drag wounded soldiers out of the line
+of fire with my teeth; and I've done it, too; at least I've dragged
+HIM out of the battle when he was wounded.  And not just once, but
+twice.  Yes, I know a lot of things.  I remember forms, and gaits,
+and faces; and you can't disguise a person that's done me a
+kindness so that I won't know him thereafter wherever I find him.
+I know the art of searching for a trail, and I know the stale track
+from the fresh.  I can keep a trail all by myself, with Buffalo
+Bill asleep in the saddle; ask him--he will tell you so.  Many a
+time, when he has ridden all night, he has said to me at dawn,
+"Take the watch, Boy; if the trail freshens, call me."  Then he
+goes to sleep.  He knows he can trust me, because I have a
+reputation.  A scout horse that has a reputation does not play with
+it.
+
+My mother was all American--no alkali-spider about HER, I can tell
+you; she was of the best blood of Kentucky, the bluest Blue-grass
+aristocracy, very proud and acrimonious--or maybe it is
+ceremonious.  I don't know which it is.  But it is no matter; size
+is the main thing about a word, and that one's up to standard.  She
+spent her military life as colonel of the Tenth Dragoons, and saw a
+deal of rough service--distinguished service it was, too.  I mean,
+she CARRIED the Colonel; but it's all the same.  Where would he be
+without his horse?  He wouldn't arrive.  It takes two to make a
+colonel of dragoons.  She was a fine dragoon horse, but never got
+above that.  She was strong enough for the scout service, and had
+the endurance, too, but she couldn't quite come up to the speed
+required; a scout horse has to have steel in his muscle and
+lightning in his blood.
+
+My father was a bronco.  Nothing as to lineage--that is, nothing as
+to recent lineage--but plenty good enough when you go a good way
+back.  When Professor Marsh was out here hunting bones for the
+chapel of Yale University he found skeletons of horses no bigger
+than a fox, bedded in the rocks, and he said they were ancestors of
+my father.  My mother heard him say it; and he said those skeletons
+were two million years old, which astonished her and made her
+Kentucky pretensions look small and pretty antiphonal, not to say
+oblique.  Let me see. . . . I used to know the meaning of those
+words, but . . . well, it was years ago, and 'tisn't as vivid now
+as it was when they were fresh.  That sort of words doesn't keep,
+in the kind of climate we have out here.  Professor Marsh said
+those skeletons were fossils.  So that makes me part blue grass and
+part fossil; if there is any older or better stock, you will have
+to look for it among the Four Hundred, I reckon.  I am satisfied
+with it.  And am a happy horse, too, though born out of wedlock.
+
+And now we are back at Fort Paxton once more, after a forty-day
+scout, away up as far as the Big Horn.  Everything quiet.  Crows
+and Blackfeet squabbling--as usual--but no outbreaks, and settlers
+feeling fairly easy.
+
+The Seventh Cavalry still in garrison, here; also the Ninth
+Dragoons, two artillery companies, and some infantry.  All glad to
+see me, including General Alison, commandant.  The officers' ladies
+and children well, and called upon me--with sugar.  Colonel Drake,
+Seventh Cavalry, said some pleasant things; Mrs. Drake was very
+complimentary; also Captain and Mrs. Marsh, Company B, Seventh
+Cavalry; also the Chaplain, who is always kind and pleasant to me,
+because I kicked the lungs out of a trader once.  It was Tommy
+Drake and Fanny Marsh that furnished the sugar--nice children, the
+nicest at the post, I think.
+
+That poor orphan child is on her way from France--everybody is full
+of the subject.  Her father was General Alison's brother; married a
+beautiful young Spanish lady ten years ago, and has never been in
+America since.  They lived in Spain a year or two, then went to
+France.  Both died some months ago.  This little girl that is
+coming is the only child.  General Alison is glad to have her.  He
+has never seen her.  He is a very nice old bachelor, but is an old
+bachelor just the same and isn't more than about a year this side
+of retirement by age limit; and so what does he know about taking
+care of a little maid nine years old?  If I could have her it would
+be another matter, for I know all about children, and they adore
+me.  Buffalo Bill will tell you so himself.
+
+I have some of this news from over-hearing the garrison-gossip, the
+rest of it I got from Potter, the General's dog.  Potter is the
+great Dane.  He is privileged, all over the post, like Shekels, the
+Seventh Cavalry's dog, and visits everybody's quarters and picks up
+everything that is going, in the way of news.  Potter has no
+imagination, and no great deal of culture, perhaps, but he has a
+historical mind and a good memory, and so he is the person I depend
+upon mainly to post me up when I get back from a scout.  That is,
+if Shekels is out on depredation and I can't get hold of him.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II--LETTER FROM ROUEN--TO GENERAL ALISON
+
+
+
+My dear Brother-in-Law,--Please let me write again in Spanish, I
+cannot trust my English, and I am aware, from what your brother
+used to say, that army officers educated at the Military Academy of
+the United States are taught our tongue.  It is as I told you in my
+other letter:  both my poor sister and her husband, when they found
+they could not recover, expressed the wish that you should have
+their little Catherine--as knowing that you would presently be
+retired from the army--rather than that she should remain with me,
+who am broken in health, or go to your mother in California, whose
+health is also frail.
+
+You do not know the child, therefore I must tell you something
+about her.  You will not be ashamed of her looks, for she is a copy
+in little of her beautiful mother--and it is that Andalusian beauty
+which is not surpassable, even in your country.  She has her
+mother's charm and grace and good heart and sense of justice, and
+she has her father's vivacity and cheerfulness and pluck and spirit
+of enterprise, with the affectionate disposition and sincerity of
+both parents.
+
+My sister pined for her Spanish home all these years of exile; she
+was always talking of Spain to the child, and tending and
+nourishing the love of Spain in the little thing's heart as a
+precious flower; and she died happy in the knowledge that the
+fruitage of her patriotic labors was as rich as even she could
+desire.
+
+Cathy is a sufficiently good little scholar, for her nine years;
+her mother taught her Spanish herself, and kept it always fresh
+upon her ear and her tongue by hardly ever speaking with her in any
+other tongue; her father was her English teacher, and talked with
+her in that language almost exclusively; French has been her
+everyday speech for more than seven years among her playmates here;
+she has a good working use of governess--German and Italian.  It is
+true that there is always a faint foreign fragrance about her
+speech, no matter what language she is talking, but it is only just
+noticeable, nothing more, and is rather a charm than a mar, I
+think.  In the ordinary child-studies Cathy is neither before nor
+behind the average child of nine, I should say.  But I can say this
+for her:  in love for her friends and in high-mindedness and good-
+heartedness she has not many equals, and in my opinion no
+superiors.  And I beg of you, let her have her way with the dumb
+animals--they are her worship.  It is an inheritance from her
+mother.  She knows but little of cruelties and oppressions--keep
+them from her sight if you can.  She would flare up at them and
+make trouble, in her small but quite decided and resolute way; for
+she has a character of her own, and lacks neither promptness nor
+initiative.  Sometimes her judgment is at fault, but I think her
+intentions are always right.  Once when she was a little creature
+of three or four years she suddenly brought her tiny foot down upon
+the floor in an apparent outbreak of indignation, then fetched it a
+backward wipe, and stooped down to examine the result.  Her mother
+said:
+
+"Why, what is it, child?  What has stirred you so?"
+
+"Mamma, the big ant was trying to kill the little one."
+
+"And so you protected the little one."
+
+"Yes, manure, because he had no friend, and I wouldn't let the big
+one kill him."
+
+"But you have killed them both."
+
+Cathy was distressed, and her lip trembled.  She picked up the
+remains and laid them upon her palm, and said:
+
+"Poor little anty, I'm so sorry; and I didn't mean to kill you, but
+there wasn't any other way to save you, it was such a hurry."
+
+She is a dear and sweet little lady, and when she goes it will give
+me a sore heart.  But she will be happy with you, and if your heart
+is old and tired, give it into her keeping; she will make it young
+again, she will refresh it, she will make it sing.  Be good to her,
+for all our sakes!
+
+My exile will soon be over now.  As soon as I am a little stronger
+I shall see my Spain again; and that will make me young again!
+
+MERCEDES.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III--GENERAL ALISON TO HIS MOTHER
+
+
+
+I am glad to know that you are all well, in San Bernardino.
+
+. . . That grandchild of yours has been here--well, I do not quite
+know how many days it is; nobody can keep account of days or
+anything else where she is!  Mother, she did what the Indians were
+never able to do.  She took the Fort--took it the first day!  Took
+me, too; took the colonels, the captains, the women, the children,
+and the dumb brutes; took Buffalo Bill, and all his scouts; took
+the garrison--to the last man; and in forty-eight hours the Indian
+encampment was hers, illustrious old Thunder-Bird and all.  Do I
+seem to have lost my solemnity, my gravity, my poise, my dignity?
+You would lose your own, in my circumstances.  Mother, you never
+saw such a winning little devil.  She is all energy, and spirit,
+and sunshine, and interest in everybody and everything, and pours
+out her prodigal love upon every creature that will take it, high
+or low, Christian or pagan, feathered or furred; and none has
+declined it to date, and none ever will, I think.  But she has a
+temper, and sometimes it catches fire and flames up, and is likely
+to burn whatever is near it; but it is soon over, the passion goes
+as quickly as it comes.  Of course she has an Indian name already;
+Indians always rechristen a stranger early.  Thunder-Bird attended
+to her case.  He gave her the Indian equivalent for firebug, or
+fire-fly.  He said:
+
+"'Times, ver' quiet, ver' soft, like summer night, but when she mad
+she blaze."
+
+Isn't it good?  Can't you see the flare?  She's beautiful, mother,
+beautiful as a picture; and there is a touch of you in her face,
+and of her father--poor George! and in her unresting activities,
+and her fearless ways, and her sunbursts and cloudbursts, she is
+always bringing George back to me.  These impulsive natures are
+dramatic.  George was dramatic, so is this Lightning-Bug, so is
+Buffalo Bill.  When Cathy first arrived--it was in the forenoon--
+Buffalo Bill was away, carrying orders to Major Fuller, at Five
+Forks, up in the Clayton Hills.  At mid-afternoon I was at my desk,
+trying to work, and this sprite had been making it impossible for
+half an hour.  At last I said:
+
+"Oh, you bewitching little scamp, CAN'T you be quiet just a minute
+or two, and let your poor old uncle attend to a part of his
+duties?"
+
+"I'll try, uncle; I will, indeed," she said.
+
+"Well, then, that's a good child--kiss me.  Now, then, sit up in
+that chair, and set your eye on that clock.  There--that's right.
+If you stir--if you so much as wink--for four whole minutes, I'll
+bite you!"
+
+It was very sweet and humble and obedient she looked, sitting
+there, still as a mouse; I could hardly keep from setting her free
+and telling her to make as much racket as she wanted to.  During as
+much as two minutes there was a most unnatural and heavenly quiet
+and repose, then Buffalo Bill came thundering up to the door in all
+his scout finery, flung himself out of the saddle, said to his
+horse, "Wait for me, Boy," and stepped in, and stopped dead in his
+tracks--gazing at the child.  She forgot orders, and was on the
+floor in a moment, saying:
+
+"Oh, you are so beautiful!  Do you like me?"
+
+"No, I don't, I love you!" and he gathered her up with a hug, and
+then set her on his shoulder--apparently nine feet from the floor.
+
+She was at home.  She played with his long hair, and admired his
+big hands and his clothes and his carbine, and asked question after
+question, as fast as he could answer, until I excused them both for
+half an hour, in order to have a chance to finish my work.  Then I
+heard Cathy exclaiming over Soldier Boy; and he was worthy of her
+raptures, for he is a wonder of a horse, and has a reputation which
+is as shining as his own silken hide.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV--CATHY TO HER AUNT MERCEDES
+
+
+
+Oh, it is wonderful here, aunty dear, just paradise!  Oh, if you
+could only see it! everything so wild and lovely; such grand
+plains, stretching such miles and miles and miles, all the most
+delicious velvety sand and sage-brush, and rabbits as big as a dog,
+and such tall and noble jackassful ears that that is what they name
+them by; and such vast mountains, and so rugged and craggy and
+lofty, with cloud-shawls wrapped around their shoulders, and
+looking so solemn and awful and satisfied; and the charming
+Indians, oh, how you would dote on them, aunty dear, and they would
+on you, too, and they would let you hold their babies, the way they
+do me, and they ARE the fattest, and brownest, and sweetest little
+things, and never cry, and wouldn't if they had pins sticking in
+them, which they haven't, because they are poor and can't afford
+it; and the horses and mules and cattle and dogs--hundreds and
+hundreds and hundreds, and not an animal that you can't do what you
+please with, except uncle Thomas, but _I_ don't mind him, he's
+lovely; and oh, if you could hear the bugles:  TOO--TOO--TOO-TOO--
+TOO--TOO, and so on--perfectly beautiful!  Do you recognize that
+one?  It's the first toots of the reveille; it goes, dear me, SO
+early in the morning!--then I and every other soldier on the whole
+place are up and out in a minute, except uncle Thomas, who is most
+unaccountably lazy, I don't know why, but I have talked to him
+about it, and I reckon it will be better, now.  He hasn't any
+faults much, and is charming and sweet, like Buffalo Bill, and
+Thunder-Bird, and Mammy Dorcas, and Soldier Boy, and Shekels, and
+Potter, and Sour-Mash, and--well, they're ALL that, just angels, as
+you may say.
+
+The very first day I came, I don't know how long ago it was,
+Buffalo Bill took me on Soldier Boy to Thunder-Bird's camp, not the
+big one which is out on the plain, which is White Cloud's, he took
+me to THAT one next day, but this one is four or five miles up in
+the hills and crags, where there is a great shut-in meadow, full of
+Indian lodges and dogs and squaws and everything that is
+interesting, and a brook of the clearest water running through it,
+with white pebbles on the bottom and trees all along the banks cool
+and shady and good to wade in, and as the sun goes down it is
+dimmish in there, but away up against the sky you see the big peaks
+towering up and shining bright and vivid in the sun, and sometimes
+an eagle sailing by them, not flapping a wing, the same as if he
+was asleep; and young Indians and girls romping and laughing and
+carrying on, around the spring and the pool, and not much clothes
+on except the girls, and dogs fighting, and the squaws busy at
+work, and the bucks busy resting, and the old men sitting in a
+bunch smoking, and passing the pipe not to the left but to the
+right, which means there's been a row in the camp and they are
+settling it if they can, and children playing JUST the same as any
+other children, and little boys shooting at a mark with bows, and I
+cuffed one of them because he hit a dog with a club that wasn't
+doing anything, and he resented it but before long he wished he
+hadn't:  but this sentence is getting too long and I will start
+another.  Thunder-Bird put on his Sunday-best war outfit to let me
+see him, and he was splendid to look at, with his face painted red
+and bright and intense like a fire-coal and a valance of eagle
+feathers from the top of his head all down his back, and he had his
+tomahawk, too, and his pipe, which has a stem which is longer than
+my arm, and I never had such a good time in an Indian camp in my
+life, and I learned a lot of words of the language, and next day BB
+took me to the camp out on the Plains, four miles, and I had
+another good time and got acquainted with some more Indians and
+dogs; and the big chief, by the name of White Cloud, gave me a
+pretty little bow and arrows and I gave him my red sash-ribbon, and
+in four days I could shoot very well with it and beat any white boy
+of my size at the post; and I have been to those camps plenty of
+times since; and I have learned to ride, too, BB taught me, and
+every day he practises me and praises me, and every time I do
+better than ever he lets me have a scamper on Soldier Boy, and
+THAT'S the last agony of pleasure! for he is the charmingest horse,
+and so beautiful and shiny and black, and hasn't another color on
+him anywhere, except a white star in his forehead, not just an
+imitation star, but a real one, with four points, shaped exactly
+like a star that's hand-made, and if you should cover him all up
+but his star you would know him anywhere, even in Jerusalem or
+Australia, by that.  And I got acquainted with a good many of the
+Seventh Cavalry, and the dragoons, and officers, and families, and
+horses, in the first few days, and some more in the next few and
+the next few and the next few, and now I know more soldiers and
+horses than you can think, no matter how hard you try.  I am
+keeping up my studies every now and then, but there isn't much time
+for it.  I love you so! and I send you a hug and a kiss.
+
+CATHY.
+
+P.S.--I belong to the Seventh Cavalry and Ninth Dragoons, I am an
+officer, too, and do not have to work on account of not getting any
+wages.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V--GENERAL ALISON TO MERCEDES
+
+
+
+She has been with us a good nice long time, now.  You are troubled
+about your sprite because this is such a wild frontier, hundreds of
+miles from civilization, and peopled only by wandering tribes of
+savages?  You fear for her safety?  Give yourself no uneasiness
+about her.  Dear me, she's in a nursery! and she's got more than
+eighteen hundred nurses.  It would distress the garrison to suspect
+that you think they can't take care of her.  They think they can.
+They would tell you so themselves.  You see, the Seventh Cavalry
+has never had a child of its very own before, and neither has the
+Ninth Dragoons; and so they are like all new mothers, they think
+there is no other child like theirs, no other child so wonderful,
+none that is so worthy to be faithfully and tenderly looked after
+and protected.  These bronzed veterans of mine are very good
+mothers, I think, and wiser than some other mothers; for they let
+her take lots of risks, and it is a good education for her; and the
+more risks she takes and comes successfully out of, the prouder
+they are of her.  They adopted her, with grave and formal military
+ceremonies of their own invention--solemnities is the truer word;
+solemnities that were so profoundly solemn and earnest, that the
+spectacle would have been comical if it hadn't been so touching.
+It was a good show, and as stately and complex as guard-mount and
+the trooping of the colors; and it had its own special music,
+composed for the occasion by the bandmaster of the Seventh; and the
+child was as serious as the most serious war-worn soldier of them
+all; and finally when they throned her upon the shoulder of the
+oldest veteran, and pronounced her "well and truly adopted," and
+the bands struck up and all saluted and she saluted in return, it
+was better and more moving than any kindred thing I have seen on
+the stage, because stage things are make-believe, but this was real
+and the players' hearts were in it.
+
+It happened several weeks ago, and was followed by some additional
+solemnities.  The men created a couple of new ranks, thitherto
+unknown to the army regulations, and conferred them upon Cathy,
+with ceremonies suitable to a duke.  So now she is Corporal-General
+of the Seventh Cavalry, and Flag-Lieutenant of the Ninth Dragoons,
+with the privilege (decreed by the men) of writing U.S.A. after her
+name!  Also, they presented her a pair of shoulder-straps--both
+dark blue, the one with F. L. on it, the other with C. G.  Also, a
+sword.  She wears them.  Finally, they granted her the salute.  I
+am witness that that ceremony is faithfully observed by both
+parties--and most gravely and decorously, too.  I have never seen a
+soldier smile yet, while delivering it, nor Cathy in returning it.
+
+Ostensibly I was not present at these proceedings, and am ignorant
+of them; but I was where I could see.  I was afraid of one thing--
+the jealousy of the other children of the post; but there is
+nothing of that, I am glad to say.  On the contrary, they are proud
+of their comrade and her honors.  It is a surprising thing, but it
+is true.  The children are devoted to Cathy, for she has turned
+their dull frontier life into a sort of continuous festival; also
+they know her for a stanch and steady friend, a friend who can
+always be depended upon, and does not change with the weather.
+
+She has become a rather extraordinary rider, under the tutorship of
+a more than extraordinary teacher--BB, which is her pet name for
+Buffalo Bill.  She pronounces it beeby.  He has not only taught her
+seventeen ways of breaking her neck, but twenty-two ways of
+avoiding it.  He has infused into her the best and surest
+protection of a horseman--CONFIDENCE.  He did it gradually,
+systematically, little by little, a step at a time, and each step
+made sure before the next was essayed.  And so he inched her along
+up through terrors that had been discounted by training before she
+reached them, and therefore were not recognizable as terrors when
+she got to them.  Well, she is a daring little rider, now, and is
+perfect in what she knows of horsemanship.  By-and-by she will know
+the art like a West Point cadet, and will exercise it as
+fearlessly.  She doesn't know anything about side-saddles.  Does
+that distress you?  And she is a fine performer, without any saddle
+at all.  Does that discomfort you?  Do not let it; she is not in
+any danger, I give you my word.
+
+You said that if my heart was old and tired she would refresh it,
+and you said truly.  I do not know how I got along without her,
+before.  I was a forlorn old tree, but now that this blossoming
+vine has wound itself about me and become the life of my life, it
+is very different.  As a furnisher of business for me and for Mammy
+Dorcas she is exhaustlessly competent, but I like my share of it
+and of course Dorcas likes hers, for Dorcas "raised" George, and
+Cathy is George over again in so many ways that she brings back
+Dorcas's youth and the joys of that long-vanished time.  My father
+tried to set Dorcas free twenty years ago, when we still lived in
+Virginia, but without success; she considered herself a member of
+the family, and wouldn't go.  And so, a member of the family she
+remained, and has held that position unchallenged ever since, and
+holds it now; for when my mother sent her here from San Bernardino
+when we learned that Cathy was coming, she only changed from one
+division of the family to the other.  She has the warm heart of her
+race, and its lavish affections, and when Cathy arrived the pair
+were mother and child in five minutes, and that is what they are to
+date and will continue.  Dorcas really thinks she raised George,
+and that is one of her prides, but perhaps it was a mutual raising,
+for their ages were the same--thirteen years short of mine.  But
+they were playmates, at any rate; as regards that, there is no room
+for dispute.
+
+Cathy thinks Dorcas is the best Catholic in America except herself.
+She could not pay any one a higher compliment than that, and Dorcas
+could not receive one that would please her better.  Dorcas is
+satisfied that there has never been a more wonderful child than
+Cathy.  She has conceived the curious idea that Cathy is TWINS, and
+that one of them is a boy-twin and failed to get segregated--got
+submerged, is the idea.  To argue with her that this is nonsense is
+a waste of breath--her mind is made up, and arguments do not affect
+it.  She says:
+
+"Look at her; she loves dolls, and girl-plays, and everything a
+girl loves, and she's gentle and sweet, and ain't cruel to dumb
+brutes--now that's the girl-twin, but she loves boy-plays, and
+drums and fifes and soldiering, and rough-riding, and ain't afraid
+of anybody or anything--and that's the boy-twin; 'deed you needn't
+tell ME she's only ONE child; no, sir, she's twins, and one of them
+got shet up out of sight.  Out of sight, but that don't make any
+difference, that boy is in there, and you can see him look out of
+her eyes when her temper is up."
+
+Then Dorcas went on, in her simple and earnest way, to furnish
+illustrations.
+
+"Look at that raven, Marse Tom.  Would anybody befriend a raven but
+that child?  Of course they wouldn't; it ain't natural.  Well, the
+Injun boy had the raven tied up, and was all the time plaguing it
+and starving it, and she pitied the po' thing, and tried to buy it
+from the boy, and the tears was in her eyes.  That was the girl-
+twin, you see.  She offered him her thimble, and he flung it down;
+she offered him all the doughnuts she had, which was two, and he
+flung them down; she offered him half a paper of pins, worth forty
+ravens, and he made a mouth at her and jabbed one of them in the
+raven's back.  That was the limit, you know.  It called for the
+other twin.  Her eyes blazed up, and she jumped for him like a
+wild-cat, and when she was done with him she was rags and he wasn't
+anything but an allegory.  That was most undoubtedly the other
+twin, you see, coming to the front.  No, sir; don't tell ME he
+ain't in there.  I've seen him with my own eyes--and plenty of
+times, at that."
+
+"Allegory?  What is an allegory?"
+
+"I don't know, Marse Tom, it's one of her words; she loves the big
+ones, you know, and I pick them up from her; they sound good and I
+can't help it."
+
+"What happened after she had converted the boy into an allegory?"
+
+"Why, she untied the raven and confiscated him by force and fetched
+him home, and left the doughnuts and things on the ground.  Petted
+him, of course, like she does with every creature.  In two days she
+had him so stuck after her that she--well, YOU know how he follows
+her everywhere, and sets on her shoulder often when she rides her
+breakneck rampages--all of which is the girl-twin to the front, you
+see--and he does what he pleases, and is up to all kinds of
+devilment, and is a perfect nuisance in the kitchen.  Well, they
+all stand it, but they wouldn't if it was another person's bird."
+
+Here she began to chuckle comfortably, and presently she said:
+
+"Well, you know, she's a nuisance herself, Miss Cathy is, she IS so
+busy, and into everything, like that bird.  It's all just as
+innocent, you know, and she don't mean any harm, and is so good and
+dear; and it ain't her fault, it's her nature; her interest is
+always a-working and always red-hot, and she can't keep quiet.
+Well, yesterday it was 'Please, Miss Cathy, don't do that'; and,
+'Please, Miss Cathy, let that alone'; and, 'Please, Miss Cathy,
+don't make so much noise'; and so on and so on, till I reckon I had
+found fault fourteen times in fifteen minutes; then she looked up
+at me with her big brown eyes that can plead so, and said in that
+odd little foreign way that goes to your heart,
+
+"'Please, mammy, make me a compliment."
+
+"And of course you did it, you old fool?"
+
+"Marse Tom, I just grabbed her up to my breast and says, 'Oh, you
+po' dear little motherless thing, you ain't got a fault in the
+world, and you can do anything you want to, and tear the house
+down, and yo' old black mammy won't say a word!'"
+
+"Why, of course, of course--_I_ knew you'd spoil the child."
+
+She brushed away her tears, and said with dignity:
+
+"Spoil the child? spoil THAT child, Marse Tom?  There can't ANYBODY
+spoil her.  She's the king bee of this post, and everybody pets her
+and is her slave, and yet, as you know, your own self, she ain't
+the least little bit spoiled."  Then she eased her mind with this
+retort:  "Marse Tom, she makes you do anything she wants to, and
+you can't deny it; so if she could be spoilt, she'd been spoilt
+long ago, because you are the very WORST!  Look at that pile of
+cats in your chair, and you sitting on a candle-box, just as
+patient; it's because they're her cats."
+
+If Dorcas were a soldier, I could punish her for such large
+frankness as that.  I changed the subject, and made her resume her
+illustrations.  She had scored against me fairly, and I wasn't
+going to cheapen her victory by disputing it.  She proceeded to
+offer this incident in evidence on her twin theory:
+
+"Two weeks ago when she got her finger mashed open, she turned
+pretty pale with the pain, but she never said a word.  I took her
+in my lap, and the surgeon sponged off the blood and took a needle
+and thread and began to sew it up; it had to have a lot of
+stitches, and each one made her scrunch a little, but she never let
+go a sound.  At last the surgeon was so full of admiration that he
+said, 'Well, you ARE a brave little thing!' and she said, just as
+ca'm and simple as if she was talking about the weather, 'There
+isn't anybody braver but the Cid!'  You see? it was the boy-twin
+that the surgeon was a-dealing with.
+
+"Who is the Cid?"
+
+"I don't know, sir--at least only what she says.  She's always
+talking about him, and says he was the bravest hero Spain ever had,
+or any other country.  They have it up and down, the children do,
+she standing up for the Cid, and they working George Washington for
+all he is worth."
+
+"Do they quarrel?"
+
+"No; it's only disputing, and bragging, the way children do.  They
+want her to be an American, but she can't be anything but a
+Spaniard, she says.  You see, her mother was always longing for
+home, po' thing! and thinking about it, and so the child is just as
+much a Spaniard as if she'd always lived there.  She thinks she
+remembers how Spain looked, but I reckon she don't, because she was
+only a baby when they moved to France.  She is very proud to be a
+Spaniard."
+
+Does that please you, Mercedes?  Very well, be content; your niece
+is loyal to her allegiance:  her mother laid deep the foundations
+of her love for Spain, and she will go back to you as good a
+Spaniard as you are yourself.  She has made me promise to take her
+to you for a long visit when the War Office retires me.
+
+I attend to her studies myself; has she told you that?  Yes, I am
+her school-master, and she makes pretty good progress, I think,
+everything considered.  Everything considered--being translated--
+means holidays.  But the fact is, she was not born for study, and
+it comes hard.  Hard for me, too; it hurts me like a physical pain
+to see that free spirit of the air and the sunshine laboring and
+grieving over a book; and sometimes when I find her gazing far away
+towards the plain and the blue mountains with the longing in her
+eyes, I have to throw open the prison doors; I can't help it.  A
+quaint little scholar she is, and makes plenty of blunders.  Once I
+put the question:
+
+"What does the Czar govern?"
+
+She rested her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand and took
+that problem under deep consideration.  Presently she looked up and
+answered, with a rising inflection implying a shade of uncertainty,
+
+"The dative case?"
+
+Here are a couple of her expositions which were delivered with
+tranquil confidence:
+
+"CHAPLAIN, diminutive of chap.  LASS is masculine, LASSIE is
+feminine."
+
+She is not a genius, you see, but just a normal child; they all
+make mistakes of that sort.  There is a glad light in her eye which
+is pretty to see when she finds herself able to answer a question
+promptly and accurately, without any hesitation; as, for instance,
+this morning:
+
+"Cathy dear, what is a cube?"
+
+"Why, a native of Cuba."
+
+She still drops a foreign word into her talk now and then, and
+there is still a subtle foreign flavor or fragrance about even her
+exactest English--and long may this abide! for it has for me a
+charm that is very pleasant.  Sometimes her English is daintily
+prim and bookish and captivating.  She has a child's sweet tooth,
+but for her health's sake I try to keep its inspirations under
+cheek.  She is obedient--as is proper for a titled and recognized
+military personage, which she is--but the chain presses sometimes.
+For instance, we were out for a walk, and passed by some bushes
+that were freighted with wild goose-berries.  Her face brightened
+and she put her hands together and delivered herself of this
+speech, most feelingly:
+
+"Oh, if I was permitted a vice it would be the gourmandise!"
+
+Could I resist that?  No.  I gave her a gooseberry.
+
+You ask about her languages.  They take care of themselves; they
+will not get rusty here; our regiments are not made up of natives
+alone--far from it.  And she is picking up Indian tongues
+diligently.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI--SOLDIER BOY AND THE MEXICAN PLUG
+
+
+
+"When did you come?"
+
+"Arrived at sundown."
+
+"Where from?"
+
+"Salt Lake."
+
+"Are you in the service?"
+
+"No.  Trade."
+
+"Pirate trade, I reckon."
+
+"What do you know about it?"
+
+"I saw you when you came.  I recognized your master.  He is a bad
+sort.  Trap-robber, horse-thief, squaw-man, renegado--Hank Butters-
+-I know him very well.  Stole you, didn't he?"
+
+"Well, it amounted to that."
+
+"I thought so.  Where is his pard?"
+
+"He stopped at White Cloud's camp."
+
+"He is another of the same stripe, is Blake Haskins."  (Aside.)
+They are laying for Buffalo Bill again, I guess.  (Aloud.)  "What
+is your name?"
+
+"Which one?"
+
+"Have you got more than one?"
+
+"I get a new one every time I'm stolen.  I used to have an honest
+name, but that was early; I've forgotten it.  Since then I've had
+thirteen aliases."
+
+"Aliases?  What is alias?"
+
+"A false name."
+
+"Alias.  It's a fine large word, and is in my line; it has quite a
+learned and cerebrospinal incandescent sound.  Are you educated?"
+
+"Well, no, I can't claim it.  I can take down bars, I can
+distinguish oats from shoe-pegs, I can blaspheme a saddle-boil with
+the college-bred, and I know a few other things--not many; I have
+had no chance, I have always had to work; besides, I am of low
+birth and no family.  You speak my dialect like a native, but you
+are not a Mexican Plug, you are a gentleman, I can see that; and
+educated, of course."
+
+"Yes, I am of old family, and not illiterate.  I am a fossil."
+
+"A which?"
+
+"Fossil.  The first horses were fossils.  They date back two
+million years."
+
+"Gr-eat sand and sage-brush! do you mean it?"
+
+"Yes, it is true.  The bones of my ancestors are held in reverence
+and worship, even by men.  They do not leave them exposed to the
+weather when they find them, but carry them three thousand miles
+and enshrine them in their temples of learning, and worship them."
+
+"It is wonderful!  I knew you must be a person of distinction, by
+your fine presence and courtly address, and by the fact that you
+are not subjected to the indignity of hobbles, like myself and the
+rest.  Would you tell me your name?"
+
+"You have probably heard of it--Soldier Boy."
+
+"What!--the renowned, the illustrious?"
+
+"Even so."
+
+"It takes my breath!  Little did I dream that ever I should stand
+face to face with the possessor of that great name.  Buffalo Bill's
+horse!  Known from the Canadian border to the deserts of Arizona,
+and from the eastern marches of the Great Plains to the foot-hills
+of the Sierra!  Truly this is a memorable day.  You still serve the
+celebrated Chief of Scouts?"
+
+"I am still his property, but he has lent me, for a time, to the
+most noble, the most gracious, the most excellent, her Excellency
+Catherine, Corporal-General Seventh Cavalry and Flag-Lieutenant
+Ninth Dragoons, U.S.A.,--on whom be peace!"
+
+"Amen.  Did you say HER Excellency?"
+
+"The same.  A Spanish lady, sweet blossom of a ducal house.  And
+truly a wonder; knowing everything, capable of everything; speaking
+all the languages, master of all sciences, a mind without horizons,
+a heart of gold, the glory of her race!  On whom be peace!"
+
+"Amen.  It is marvellous!"
+
+"Verily.  I knew many things, she has taught me others.  I am
+educated.  I will tell you about her."
+
+"I listen--I am enchanted."
+
+"I will tell a plain tale, calmly, without excitement, without
+eloquence.  When she had been here four or five weeks she was
+already erudite in military things, and they made her an officer--a
+double officer.  She rode the drill every day, like any soldier;
+and she could take the bugle and direct the evolutions herself.
+Then, on a day, there was a grand race, for prizes--none to enter
+but the children.  Seventeen children entered, and she was the
+youngest.  Three girls, fourteen boys--good riders all.  It was a
+steeplechase, with four hurdles, all pretty high.  The first prize
+was a most cunning half-grown silver bugle, and mighty pretty, with
+red silk cord and tassels.  Buffalo Bill was very anxious; for he
+had taught her to ride, and he did most dearly want her to win that
+race, for the glory of it.  So he wanted her to ride me, but she
+wouldn't; and she reproached him, and said it was unfair and
+unright, and taking advantage; for what horse in this post or any
+other could stand a chance against me? and she was very severe with
+him, and said, 'You ought to be ashamed--you are proposing to me
+conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman.'  So he just tossed
+her up in the air about thirty feet and caught her as she came
+down, and said he was ashamed; and put up his handkerchief and
+pretended to cry, which nearly broke her heart, and she petted him,
+and begged him to forgive her, and said she would do anything in
+the world he could ask but that; but he said he ought to go hang
+himself, and he MUST, if he could get a rope; it was nothing but
+right he should, for he never, never could forgive himself; and
+then SHE began to cry, and they both sobbed, the way you could hear
+him a mile, and she clinging around his neck and pleading, till at
+last he was comforted a little, and gave his solemn promise he
+wouldn't hang himself till after the race; and wouldn't do it at
+all if she won it, which made her happy, and she said she would win
+it or die in the saddle; so then everything was pleasant again and
+both of them content.  He can't help playing jokes on her, he is so
+fond of her and she is so innocent and unsuspecting; and when she
+finds it out she cuffs him and is in a fury, but presently forgives
+him because it's him; and maybe the very next day she's caught with
+another joke; you see she can't learn any better, because she
+hasn't any deceit in her, and that kind aren't ever expecting it in
+another person.
+
+"It was a grand race.  The whole post was there, and there was such
+another whooping and shouting when the seventeen kids came flying
+down the turf and sailing over the hurdles--oh, beautiful to see!
+Half-way down, it was kind of neck and neck, and anybody's race and
+nobody's.  Then, what should happen but a cow steps out and puts
+her head down to munch grass, with her broadside to the battalion,
+and they a-coming like the wind; they split apart to flank her, but
+SHE?--why, she drove the spurs home and soared over that cow like a
+bird! and on she went, and cleared the last hurdle solitary and
+alone, the army letting loose the grand yell, and she skipped from
+the horse the same as if he had been standing still, and made her
+bow, and everybody crowded around to congratulate, and they gave
+her the bugle, and she put it to her lips and blew 'boots and
+saddles' to see how it would go, and BB was as proud as you can't
+think!  And he said, 'Take Soldier Boy, and don't pass him back
+till I ask for him!' and I can tell you he wouldn't have said that
+to any other person on this planet.  That was two months and more
+ago, and nobody has been on my back since but the Corporal-General
+Seventh Cavalry and Flag-Lieutenant of the Ninth Dragoons, U.S.A.,-
+-on whom be peace!"
+
+"Amen.  I listen--tell me more."
+
+"She set to work and organized the Sixteen, and called it the First
+Battalion Rocky Mountain Rangers, U.S.A., and she wanted to be
+bugler, but they elected her Lieutenant-General and Bugler.  So she
+ranks her uncle the commandant, who is only a Brigadier.  And
+doesn't she train those little people!  Ask the Indians, ask the
+traders, ask the soldiers; they'll tell you.  She has been at it
+from the first day.  Every morning they go clattering down into the
+plain, and there she sits on my back with her bugle at her mouth
+and sounds the orders and puts them through the evolutions for an
+hour or more; and it is too beautiful for anything to see those
+ponies dissolve from one formation into another, and waltz about,
+and break, and scatter, and form again, always moving, always
+graceful, now trotting, now galloping, and so on, sometimes near
+by, sometimes in the distance, all just like a state ball, you
+know, and sometimes she can't hold herself any longer, but sounds
+the 'charge,' and turns me loose! and you can take my word for it,
+if the battalion hasn't too much of a start we catch up and go over
+the breastworks with the front line.
+
+"Yes, they are soldiers, those little people; and healthy, too, not
+ailing any more, the way they used to be sometimes.  It's because
+of her drill.  She's got a fort, now--Fort Fanny Marsh.  Major-
+General Tommy Drake planned it out, and the Seventh and Dragoons
+built it.  Tommy is the Colonel's son, and is fifteen and the
+oldest in the Battalion; Fanny Marsh is Brigadier-General, and is
+next oldest--over thirteen.  She is daughter of Captain Marsh,
+Company B, Seventh Cavalry.  Lieutenant-General Alison is the
+youngest by considerable; I think she is about nine and a half or
+three-quarters.  Her military rig, as Lieutenant-General, isn't for
+business, it's for dress parade, because the ladies made it.  They
+say they got it out of the Middle Ages--out of a book--and it is
+all red and blue and white silks and satins and velvets; tights,
+trunks, sword, doublet with slashed sleeves, short cape, cap with
+just one feather in it; I've heard them name these things; they got
+them out of the book; she's dressed like a page, of old times, they
+say.  It's the daintiest outfit that ever was--you will say so,
+when you see it.  She's lovely in it--oh, just a dream!  In some
+ways she is just her age, but in others she's as old as her uncle,
+I think.  She is very learned.  She teaches her uncle his book.  I
+have seen her sitting by with the book and reciting to him what is
+in it, so that he can learn to do it himself.
+
+"Every Saturday she hires little Injuns to garrison her fort; then
+she lays siege to it, and makes military approaches by make-believe
+trenches in make-believe night, and finally at make-believe dawn
+she draws her sword and sounds the assault and takes it by storm.
+It is for practice.  And she has invented a bugle-call all by
+herself, out of her own head, and it's a stirring one, and the
+prettiest in the service.  It's to call ME--it's never used for
+anything else.  She taught it to me, and told me what it says:  'IT
+IS I, SOLDIER--COME!' and when those thrilling notes come floating
+down the distance I hear them without fail, even if I am two miles
+away; and then--oh, then you should see my heels get down to
+business!
+
+"And she has taught me how to say good-morning and good-night to
+her, which is by lifting my right hoof for her to shake; and also
+how to say good-bye; I do that with my left foot--but only for
+practice, because there hasn't been any but make-believe good-
+byeing yet, and I hope there won't ever be.  It would make me cry
+if I ever had to put up my left foot in earnest.  She has taught me
+how to salute, and I can do it as well as a soldier.  I bow my head
+low, and lay my right hoof against my cheek.  She taught me that
+because I got into disgrace once, through ignorance.  I am
+privileged, because I am known to be honorable and trustworthy, and
+because I have a distinguished record in the service; so they don't
+hobble me nor tie me to stakes or shut me tight in stables, but let
+me wander around to suit myself.  Well, trooping the colors is a
+very solemn ceremony, and everybody must stand uncovered when the
+flag goes by, the commandant and all; and once I was there, and
+ignorantly walked across right in front of the band, which was an
+awful disgrace:  Ah, the Lieutenant-General was so ashamed, and so
+distressed that I should have done such a thing before all the
+world, that she couldn't keep the tears back; and then she taught
+me the salute, so that if I ever did any other unmilitary act
+through ignorance I could do my salute and she believed everybody
+would think it was apology enough and would not press the matter.
+It is very nice and distinguished; no other horse can do it; often
+the men salute me, and I return it.  I am privileged to be present
+when the Rocky Mountain Rangers troop the colors and I stand
+solemn, like the children, and I salute when the flag goes by.  Of
+course when she goes to her fort her sentries sing out 'Turn out
+the guard!' and then . . . do you catch that refreshing early-
+morning whiff from the mountain-pines and the wild flowers?  The
+night is far spent; we'll hear the bugles before long.  Dorcas, the
+black woman, is very good and nice; she takes care of the
+Lieutenant-General, and is Brigadier-General Alison's mother, which
+makes her mother-in-law to the Lieutenant-General.  That is what
+Shekels says.  At least it is what I think he says, though I never
+can understand him quite clearly. He--"
+
+"Who is Shekels?"
+
+"The Seventh Cavalry dog.  I mean, if he IS a dog.  His father was
+a coyote and his mother was a wild-cat.  It doesn't really make a
+dog out of him, does it?"
+
+"Not a real dog, I should think.  Only a kind of a general dog, at
+most, I reckon.  Though this is a matter of ichthyology, I suppose;
+and if it is, it is out of my depth, and so my opinion is not
+valuable, and I don't claim much consideration for it."
+
+"It isn't ichthyology; it is dogmatics, which is still more
+difficult and tangled up.  Dogmatics always are."
+
+"Dogmatics is quite beyond me, quite; so I am not competing.  But
+on general principles it is my opinion that a colt out of a coyote
+and a wild-cat is no square dog, but doubtful.  That is my hand,
+and I stand pat."
+
+"Well, it is as far as I can go myself, and be fair and
+conscientious.  I have always regarded him as a doubtful dog, and
+so has Potter.  Potter is the great Dane.  Potter says he is no
+dog, and not even poultry--though I do not go quite so far as that.
+
+"And I wouldn't, myself.  Poultry is one of those things which no
+person can get to the bottom of, there is so much of it and such
+variety.  It is just wings, and wings, and wings, till you are
+weary:  turkeys, and geese, and bats, and butterflies, and angels,
+and grasshoppers, and flying-fish, and--well, there is really no
+end to the tribe; it gives me the heaves just to think of it.  But
+this one hasn't any wings, has he?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, then, in my belief he is more likely to be dog than poultry.
+I have not heard of poultry that hadn't wings.  Wings is the SIGN
+of poultry; it is what you tell poultry by.  Look at the mosquito."
+
+"What do you reckon he is, then?  He must be something."
+
+"Why, he could be a reptile; anything that hasn't wings is a
+reptile."
+
+"Who told you that?"
+
+"Nobody told me, but I overheard it."
+
+"Where did you overhear it?"
+
+"Years ago.  I was with the Philadelphia Institute expedition in
+the Bad Lands under Professor Cope, hunting mastodon bones, and I
+overheard him say, his own self, that any plantigrade circumflex
+vertebrate bacterium that hadn't wings and was uncertain was a
+reptile.  Well, then, has this dog any wings?  No.  Is he a
+plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium?  Maybe so, maybe not;
+but without ever having seen him, and judging only by his illegal
+and spectacular parentage, I will bet the odds of a bale of hay to
+a bran mash that he looks it.  Finally, is he uncertain?  That is
+the point--is he uncertain?  I will leave it to you if you have
+ever heard of a more uncertainer dog than what this one is?"
+
+"No, I never have."
+
+"Well, then, he's a reptile.  That's settled."
+
+"Why, look here, whatsyourname"
+
+"Last alias, Mongrel."
+
+"A good one, too.  I was going to say, you are better educated than
+you have been pretending to be.  I like cultured society, and I
+shall cultivate your acquaintance.  Now as to Shekels, whenever you
+want to know about any private thing that is going on at this post
+or in White Cloud's camp or Thunder-Bird's, he can tell you; and if
+you make friends with him he'll be glad to, for he is a born
+gossip, and picks up all the tittle-tattle.  Being the whole
+Seventh Cavalry's reptile, he doesn't belong to anybody in
+particular, and hasn't any military duties; so he comes and goes as
+he pleases, and is popular with all the house cats and other
+authentic sources of private information.  He understands all the
+languages, and talks them all, too.  With an accent like gritting
+your teeth, it is true, and with a grammar that is no improvement
+on blasphemy--still, with practice you get at the meat of what he
+says, and it serves. . . Hark!  That's the reveille. . . .
+
+[THE REVEILLE]
+
+"Faint and far, but isn't it clear, isn't it sweet?  There's no
+music like the bugle to stir the blood, in the still solemnity of
+the morning twilight, with the dim plain stretching away to nothing
+and the spectral mountains slumbering against the sky.  You'll hear
+another note in a minute--faint and far and clear, like the other
+one, and sweeter still, you'll notice.  Wait . . . listen.  There
+it goes!  It says, 'IT IS I, SOLDIER--COME!' . . .
+
+[SOLDIER BOY'S BUGLE CALL]
+
+. . . Now then, watch me leave a blue streak behind!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII--SOLDIER BOY AND SHEKELS
+
+
+
+"Did you do as I told you?  Did you look up the Mexican Plug?"
+
+"Yes, I made his acquaintance before night and got his friendship."
+
+"I liked him.  Did you?"
+
+"Not at first.  He took me for a reptile, and it troubled me,
+because I didn't know whether it was a compliment or not.  I
+couldn't ask him, because it would look ignorant.  So I didn't say
+anything, and soon liked him very well indeed.  Was it a
+compliment, do you think?"
+
+"Yes, that is what it was.  They are very rare, the reptiles; very
+few left, now-a-days."
+
+"Is that so?  What is a reptile?"
+
+"It is a plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium that hasn't
+any wings and is uncertain."
+
+"Well, it--it sounds fine, it surely does."
+
+"And it IS fine.  You may be thankful you are one."
+
+"I am.  It seems wonderfully grand and elegant for a person that is
+so humble as I am; but I am thankful, I am indeed, and will try to
+live up to it.  It is hard to remember.  Will you say it again,
+please, and say it slow?"
+
+"Plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium that hasn't any wings
+and is uncertain."
+
+"It is beautiful, anybody must grant it; beautiful, and of a noble
+sound.  I hope it will not make me proud and stuck-up--I should not
+like to be that.  It is much more distinguished and honorable to be
+a reptile than a dog, don't you think, Soldier?"
+
+"Why, there's no comparison.  It is awfully aristocratic.  Often a
+duke is called a reptile; it is set down so, in history."
+
+"Isn't that grand!  Potter wouldn't ever associate with me, but I
+reckon he'll be glad to when he finds out what I am."
+
+"You can depend upon it."
+
+"I will thank Mongrel for this. He is a very good sort, for a
+Mexican Plug.  Don't you think he is?"
+
+"It is my opinion of him; and as for his birth, he cannot help
+that.  We cannot all be reptiles, we cannot all be fossils; we have
+to take what comes and be thankful it is no worse.  It is the true
+philosophy."
+
+"For those others?"
+
+"Stick to the subject, please.  Did it turn out that my suspicions
+were right?"
+
+"Yes, perfectly right.  Mongrel has heard them planning.  They are
+after BB's life, for running them out of Medicine Bow and taking
+their stolen horses away from them."
+
+"Well, they'll get him yet, for sure."
+
+"Not if he keeps a sharp look-out."
+
+"HE keep a sharp lookout!  He never does; he despises them, and all
+their kind.  His life is always being threatened, and so it has
+come to be monotonous."
+
+"Does he know they are here?"
+
+"Oh yes, he knows it.  He is always the earliest to know who comes
+and who goes.  But he cares nothing for them and their threats; he
+only laughs when people warn him.  They'll shoot him from behind a
+tree the first he knows.  Did Mongrel tell you their plans?"
+
+"Yes.  They have found out that he starts for Fort Clayton day
+after to-morrow, with one of his scouts; so they will leave to-
+morrow, letting on to go south, but they will fetch around north
+all in good time."
+
+"Shekels, I don't like the look of it."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII--THE SCOUT-START.  BB AND LIEUTENANT-GENERAL ALISON
+
+
+
+BB (saluting).  "Good! handsomely done!  The Seventh couldn't beat
+it!  You do certainly handle your Rangers like an expert, General.
+And where are you bound?"
+
+"Four miles on the trail to Fort Clayton."
+
+"Glad am I, dear!  What's the idea of it?"
+
+"Guard of honor for you and Thorndike."
+
+"Bless--your--HEART!  I'd rather have it from you than from the
+Commander-in-Chief of the armies of the United States, you
+incomparable little soldier!--and I don't need to take any oath to
+that, for you to believe it."
+
+"I THOUGHT you'd like it, BB."
+
+"LIKE it?  Well, I should say so!  Now then--all ready--sound the
+advance, and away we go!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX--SOLDIER BOY AND SHEKELS AGAIN
+
+
+
+"Well, this is the way it happened.  We did the escort duty; then
+we came back and struck for the plain and put the Rangers through a
+rousing drill--oh, for hours!  Then we sent them home under
+Brigadier-General Fanny Marsh; then the Lieutenant-General and I
+went off on a gallop over the plains for about three hours, and
+were lazying along home in the middle of the afternoon, when we met
+Jimmy Slade, the drummer-boy, and he saluted and asked the
+Lieutenant-General if she had heard the news, and she said no, and
+he said:
+
+"'Buffalo Bill has been ambushed and badly shot this side of
+Clayton, and Thorndike the scout, too; Bill couldn't travel, but
+Thorndike could, and he brought the news, and Sergeant Wilkes and
+six men of Company B are gone, two hours ago, hotfoot, to get Bill.
+And they say--'
+
+"'GO!' she shouts to me--and I went."
+
+"Fast?"
+
+"Don't ask foolish questions.  It was an awful pace.  For four
+hours nothing happened, and not a word said, except that now and
+then she said, 'Keep it up, Boy, keep it up, sweetheart; we'll save
+him!'  I kept it up.  Well, when the dark shut down, in the rugged
+hills, that poor little chap had been tearing around in the saddle
+all day, and I noticed by the slack knee-pressure that she was
+tired and tottery, and I got dreadfully afraid; but every time I
+tried to slow down and let her go to sleep, so I could stop, she
+hurried me up again; and so, sure enough, at last over she went!
+
+"Ah, that was a fix to be in I for she lay there and didn't stir,
+and what was I to do?  I couldn't leave her to fetch help, on
+account of the wolves.  There was nothing to do but stand by.  It
+was dreadful.  I was afraid she was killed, poor little thing!  But
+she wasn't.  She came to, by-and-by, and said, 'Kiss me, Soldier,'
+and those were blessed words.  I kissed her--often; I am used to
+that, and we like it.  But she didn't get up, and I was worried.
+She fondled my nose with her hand, and talked to me, and called me
+endearing names--which is her way--but she caressed with the same
+hand all the time.  The other arm was broken, you see, but I didn't
+know it, and she didn't mention it.  She didn't want to distress
+me, you know.
+
+"Soon the big gray wolves came, and hung around, and you could hear
+them snarl, and snap at each other, but you couldn't see anything
+of them except their eyes, which shone in the dark like sparks and
+stars.  The Lieutenant-General said, 'If I had the Rocky Mountain
+Rangers here, we would make those creatures climb a tree.'  Then
+she made believe that the Rangers were in hearing, and put up her
+bugle and blew the 'assembly'; and then, 'boots and saddles'; then
+the 'trot'; 'gallop'; 'charge!'  Then she blew the 'retreat,' and
+said, 'That's for you, you rebels; the Rangers don't ever retreat!'
+
+"The music frightened them away, but they were hungry, and kept
+coming back.  And of course they got bolder and bolder, which is
+their way.  It went on for an hour, then the tired child went to
+sleep, and it was pitiful to hear her moan and nestle, and I
+couldn't do anything for her.  All the time I was laying for the
+wolves.  They are in my line; I have had experience.  At last the
+boldest one ventured within my lines, and I landed him among his
+friends with some of his skull still on him, and they did the rest.
+In the next hour I got a couple more, and they went the way of the
+first one, down the throats of the detachment.  That satisfied the
+survivors, and they went away and left us in peace.
+
+"We hadn't any more adventures, though I kept awake all night and
+was ready.  From midnight on the child got very restless, and out
+of her head, and moaned, and said, 'Water, water--thirsty'; and now
+and then, 'Kiss me, Soldier'; and sometimes she was in her fort and
+giving orders to her garrison; and once she was in Spain, and
+thought her mother was with her.  People say a horse can't cry; but
+they don't know, because we cry inside.
+
+"It was an hour after sunup that I heard the boys coming, and
+recognized the hoof-beats of Pomp and Caesar and Jerry, old mates
+of mine; and a welcomer sound there couldn't ever be.
+
+Buffalo Bill was in a horse-litter, with his leg broken by a
+bullet, and Mongrel and Blake Haskins's horse were doing the work.
+Buffalo Bill and Thorndike had lolled both of those toughs.
+
+"When they got to us, and Buffalo Bill saw the child lying there so
+white, he said, 'My God!' and the sound of his voice brought her to
+herself, and she gave a little cry of pleasure and struggled to get
+up, but couldn't, and the soldiers gathered her up like the
+tenderest women, and their eyes were wet and they were not ashamed,
+when they saw her arm dangling; and so were Buffalo Bill's, and
+when they laid her in his arms he said, 'My darling, how does this
+come?' and she said, 'We came to save you, but I was tired, and
+couldn't keep awake, and fell off and hurt myself, and couldn't get
+on again.'  'You came to save me, you dear little rat?  It was too
+lovely of you!'  'Yes, and Soldier stood by me, which you know he
+would, and protected me from the wolves; and if he got a chance he
+kicked the life out of some of them--for you know he would, BB.'
+The sergeant said, 'He laid out three of them, sir, and here's the
+bones to show for it.'  'He's a grand horse,' said BB; 'he's the
+grandest horse that ever was! and has saved your life, Lieutenant-
+General Alison, and shall protect it the rest of his life--he's
+yours for a kiss!'  He got it, along with a passion of delight, and
+he said, 'You are feeling better now, little Spaniard--do you think
+you could blow the advance?'  She put up the bugle to do it, but he
+said wait a minute first.  Then he and the sergeant set her arm and
+put it in splints, she wincing but not whimpering; then we took up
+the march for home, and that's the end of the tale; and I'm her
+horse.  Isn't she a brick, Shekels?
+
+"Brick?  She's more than a brick, more than a thousand bricks--
+she's a reptile!"
+
+"It's a compliment out of your heart, Shekels.  God bless you for
+it!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X--GENERAL ALISON AND DORCAS
+
+
+
+"Too much company for her, Marse Tom.  Betwixt you, and Shekels,
+the Colonel's wife, and the Cid--"
+
+"The Cid?  Oh, I remember--the raven."
+
+ "--and Mrs. Captain Marsh and Famine and Pestilence the baby
+COYOTES, and Sour-Mash and her pups, and Sardanapalus and her
+kittens--hang these names she gives the creatures, they warp my
+jaw--and Potter:  you--all sitting around in the house, and Soldier
+Boy at the window the entire time, it's a wonder to me she comes
+along as well as she does.  She--"
+
+"You want her all to yourself, you stingy old thing!"
+
+"Marse Tom, you know better.  It's too much company.  And then the
+idea of her receiving reports all the time from her officers, and
+acting upon them, and giving orders, the same as if she was well!
+It ain't good for her, and the surgeon don't like it, and tried to
+persuade her not to and couldn't; and when he ORDERED her, she was
+that outraged and indignant, and was very severe on him, and
+accused him of insubordination, and said it didn't become him to
+give orders to an officer of her rank.  Well, he saw he had excited
+her more and done more harm than all the rest put together, so he
+was vexed at himself and wished he had kept still.  Doctors DON'T
+know much, and that's a fact.  She's too much interested in things-
+-she ought to rest more.  She's all the time sending messages to
+BB, and to soldiers and Injuns and whatnot, and to the animals."
+
+"To the animals?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Who carries them?"
+
+"Sometimes Potter, but mostly it's Shekels."
+
+"Now come! who can find fault with such pretty make-believe as
+that?"
+
+"But it ain't make-believe, Marse Tom.  She does send them."
+
+"Yes, I don't doubt that part of it."
+
+"Do you doubt they get them, sir?"
+
+"Certainly.  Don't you?"
+
+"No, sir.  Animals talk to one another.  I know it perfectly well,
+Marse Tom, and I ain't saying it by guess."
+
+"What a curious superstition!"
+
+"It ain't a superstition, Marse Tom.  Look at that Shekels--look at
+him, NOW.  Is he listening, or ain't he?  NOW you see! he's turned
+his head away.  It's because he was caught--caught in the act.
+I'll ask you--could a Christian look any more ashamed than what he
+looks now?--LAY DOWN!  You see? he was going to sneak out.  Don't
+tell ME, Marse Tom!  If animals don't talk, I miss MY guess.  And
+Shekels is the worst.  He goes and tells the animals everything
+that happens in the officers' quarters; and if he's short of facts,
+he invents them.  He hasn't any more principle than a blue jay; and
+as for morals, he's empty.  Look at him now; look at him grovel.
+He knows what I am saying, and he knows it's the truth.  You see,
+yourself, that he can feel shame; it's the only virtue he's got.
+It's wonderful how they find out everything that's going on--the
+animals.  They--"
+
+"Do you really believe they do, Dorcas?"
+
+"I don't only just believe it, Marse Tom, I know it.  Day before
+yesterday they knew something was going to happen.  They were that
+excited, and whispering around together; why, anybody could see
+that they-- But my! I must get back to her, and I haven't got to my
+errand yet."
+
+"What is it, Dorcas?"
+
+"Well, it's two or three things.  One is, the doctor don't salute
+when he comes . . . Now, Marse Tom, it ain't anything to laugh at,
+and so--"
+
+"Well, then, forgive me; I didn't mean to laugh--I got caught
+unprepared."
+
+"You see, she don't want to hurt the doctor's feelings, so she
+don't say anything to him about it; but she is always polite,
+herself, and it hurts that kind for people to be rude to them."
+
+"I'll have that doctor hanged."
+
+"Marse Tom, she don't WANT him hanged.  She--"
+
+"Well, then, I'll have him boiled in oil."
+
+"But she don't WANT him boiled.  I--"
+
+"Oh, very well, very well, I only want to please her; I'll have him
+skinned."
+
+"Why, SHE don't want him skinned; it would break her heart.  Now--"
+
+"Woman, this is perfectly unreasonable.  What in the nation DOES
+she want?"
+
+"Marse Tom, if you would only be a little patient, and not fly off
+the handle at the least little thing.  Why, she only wants you to
+speak to him."
+
+"Speak to him!  Well, upon my word!  All this unseemly rage and row
+about such a--a-- Dorcas, I never saw you carry on like this
+before.  You have alarmed the sentry; he thinks I am being
+assassinated; he thinks there's a mutiny, a revolt, an
+insurrection; he--"
+
+"Marse Tom, you are just putting on; you know it perfectly well; I
+don't know what makes you act like that--but you always did, even
+when you was little, and you can't get over it, I reckon.  Are you
+over it now, Marse Tom?"
+
+"Oh, well, yes; but it would try anybody to be doing the best he
+could, offering every kindness he could think of, only to have it
+rejected with contumely and . . . Oh, well, let it go; it's no
+matter--I'll talk to the doctor.  Is that satisfactory, or are you
+going to break out again?"
+
+"Yes, sir, it is; and it's only right to talk to him, too, because
+it's just as she says; she's trying to keep up discipline in the
+Rangers, and this insubordination of his is a bad example for them-
+-now ain't it so, Marse Tom?"
+
+"Well, there IS reason in it, I can't deny it; so I will speak to
+him, though at bottom I think hanging would be more lasting.  What
+is the rest of your errand, Dorcas?"
+
+"Of course her room is Ranger headquarters now, Marse Tom, while
+she's sick.  Well, soldiers of the cavalry and the dragoons that
+are off duty come and get her sentries to let them relieve them and
+serve in their place.  It's only out of affection, sir, and because
+they know military honors please her, and please the children too,
+for her sake; and they don't bring their muskets; and so--"
+
+"I've noticed them there, but didn't twig the idea.  They are
+standing guard, are they?"
+
+"Yes, sir, and she is afraid you will reprove them and hurt their
+feelings, if you see them there; so she begs, if--if you don't mind
+coming in the back way--"
+
+"Bear me up, Dorcas; don't let me faint."
+
+"There--sit up and behave, Marse Tom.  You are not going to faint;
+you are only pretending--you used to act just so when you was
+little; it does seem a long time for you to get grown up."
+
+"Dorcas, the way the child is progressing, I shall be out of my job
+before long--she'll have the whole post in her hands.  I must make
+a stand, I must not go down without a struggle.  These
+encroachments. . . . Dorcas, what do you think she will think of
+next?"
+
+"Marse Tom, she don't mean any harm."
+
+"Are you sure of it?"
+
+"Yes, Marse Tom."
+
+"You feel sure she has no ulterior designs?"
+
+"I don't know what that is, Marse Tom, but I know she hasn't."
+
+"Very well, then, for the present I am satisfied.  What else have
+you come about?"
+
+"I reckon I better tell you the whole thing first, Marse Tom, then
+tell you what she wants.  There's been an emeute, as she calls it.
+It was before she got back with BB.  The officer of the day
+reported it to her this morning.  It happened at her fort.  There
+was a fuss betwixt Major-General Tommy Drake and Lieutenant-Colonel
+Agnes Frisbie, and he snatched her doll away, which is made of
+white kid stuffed with sawdust, and tore every rag of its clothes
+off, right before them all, and is under arrest, and the charge is
+conduct un--"
+
+"Yes, I know--conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman--a
+plain case, too, it seems to me.  This is a serious matter.  Well,
+what is her pleasure?"
+
+"Well, Marse Tom, she has summoned a court-martial, but the doctor
+don't think she is well enough to preside over it, and she says
+there ain't anybody competent but her, because there's a major-
+general concerned; and so she--she--well, she says, would you
+preside over it for her? . . . Marse Tom, SIT up!  You ain't any
+more going to faint than Shekels is."
+
+"Look here, Dorcas, go along back, and be tactful.  Be persuasive;
+don't fret her; tell her it's all right, the matter is in my hands,
+but it isn't good form to hurry so grave a matter as this.  Explain
+to her that we have to go by precedents, and that I believe this
+one to be new.  In fact, you can say I know that nothing just like
+it has happened in our army, therefore I must be guided by European
+precedents, and must go cautiously and examine them carefully.
+Tell her not to be impatient, it will take me several days, but it
+will all come out right, and I will come over and report progress
+as I go along.  Do you get the idea, Dorcas?"
+
+"I don't know as I do, sir."
+
+"Well, it's this.  You see, it won't ever do for me, a brigadier in
+the regular army, to preside over that infant court-martial--there
+isn't any precedent for it, don't you see.  Very well.  I will go
+on examining authorities and reporting progress until she is well
+enough to get me out of this scrape by presiding herself.  Do you
+get it now?"
+
+"Oh, yes, sir, I get it, and it's good, I'll go and fix it with
+her.  LAY DOWN! and stay where you are."
+
+"Why, what harm is he doing?"
+
+"Oh, it ain't any harm, but it just vexes me to see him act so."
+
+"What was he doing?"
+
+"Can't you see, and him in such a sweat?  He was starting out to
+spread it all over the post.  NOW I reckon you won't deny, any
+more, that they go and tell everything they hear, now that you've
+seen it with yo' own eyes."
+
+"Well, I don't like to acknowledge it, Dorcas, but I don't see how
+I can consistently stick to my doubts in the face of such
+overwhelming proof as this dog is furnishing."
+
+"There, now, you've got in yo' right mind at last!  I wonder you
+can be so stubborn, Marse Tom.  But you always was, even when you
+was little.  I'm going now."
+
+"Look here; tell her that in view of the delay, it is my judgment
+that she ought to enlarge the accused on his parole."
+
+"Yes, sir, I'll tell her.  Marse Tom?"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"She can't get to Soldier Boy, and he stands there all the time,
+down in the mouth and lonesome; and she says will you shake hands
+with him and comfort him?  Everybody does."
+
+"It's a curious kind of lonesomeness; but, all right, I will."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI--SEVERAL MONTHS LATER.  ANTONIO AND THORNDIKE
+
+
+
+"Thorndike, isn't that Plug you're riding an assert of the scrap
+you and Buffalo Bill had with the late Blake Haskins and his pal a
+few months back?"
+
+"Yes, this is Mongrel--and not a half-bad horse, either."
+
+"I've noticed he keeps up his lick first-rate.  Say--isn't it a
+gaudy morning?"
+
+"Right you are!"
+
+"Thorndike, it's Andalusian! and when that's said, all's said."
+
+"Andalusian AND Oregonian, Antonio!  Put it that way, and you have
+my vote.  Being a native up there, I know.  You being Andalusian-
+born--"
+
+"Can speak with authority for that patch of paradise?  Well, I can.
+Like the Don! like Sancho!  This is the correct Andalusian dawn
+now--crisp, fresh, dewy, fragrant, pungent--"
+
+
+"'What though the spicy breezes
+Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle--'
+
+
+--GIT up, you old cow! stumbling like that when we've just been
+praising you! out on a scout and can't live up to the honor any
+better than that?  Antonio, how long have you been out here in the
+Plains and the Rockies?"
+
+"More than thirteen years."
+
+"It's a long time.  Don't you ever get homesick?"
+
+"Not till now."
+
+"Why NOW?--after such a long cure."
+
+"These preparations of the retiring commandant's have started it
+up."
+
+"Of course.  It's natural."
+
+"It keeps me thinking about Spain.  I know the region where the
+Seventh's child's aunt lives; I know all the lovely country for
+miles around; I'll bet I've seen her aunt's villa many a time; I'll
+bet I've been in it in those pleasant old times when I was a
+Spanish gentleman."
+
+"They say the child is wild to see Spain."
+
+"It's so; I know it from what I hear."
+
+"Haven't you talked with her about it?"
+
+"No.  I've avoided it.  I should soon be as wild as she is.  That
+would not be comfortable."
+
+"I wish I was going, Antonio.  There's two things I'd give a lot to
+see.  One's a railroad."
+
+"She'll see one when she strikes Missouri."
+
+"The other's a bull-fight."
+
+"I've seen lots of them; I wish I could see another."
+
+"I don't know anything about it, except in a mixed-up, foggy way,
+Antonio, but I know enough to know it's grand sport."
+
+"The grandest in the world!  There's no other sport that begins
+with it.  I'll tell you what I've seen, then you can judge.  It was
+my first, and it's as vivid to me now as it was when I saw it.  It
+was a Sunday afternoon, and beautiful weather, and my uncle, the
+priest, took me as a reward for being a good boy and because of my
+own accord and without anybody asking me I had bankrupted my
+savings-box and given the money to a mission that was civilizing
+the Chinese and sweetening their lives and softening their hearts
+with the gentle teachings of our religion, and I wish you could
+have seen what we saw that day, Thorndike.
+
+"The amphitheatre was packed, from the bull-ring to the highest
+row--twelve thousand people in one circling mass, one slanting,
+solid mass--royalties, nobles, clergy, ladies, gentlemen, state
+officials, generals, admirals, soldiers, sailors, lawyers, thieves,
+merchants, brokers, cooks, housemaids, scullery-maids, doubtful
+women, dudes, gamblers, beggars, loafers, tramps, American ladies,
+gentlemen, preachers, English ladies, gentlemen, preachers, German
+ditto, French ditto, and so on and so on, all the world
+represented:  Spaniards to admire and praise, foreigners to enjoy
+and go home and find fault--there they were, one solid, sloping,
+circling sweep of rippling and flashing color under the downpour of
+the summer sun--just a garden, a gaudy, gorgeous flower-garden!
+Children munching oranges, six thousand fans fluttering and
+glimmering, everybody happy, everybody chatting gayly with their
+intimates, lovely girl-faces smiling recognition and salutation to
+other lovely girl-faces, gray old ladies and gentlemen dealing in
+the like exchanges with each other--ah, such a picture of cheery
+contentment and glad anticipation! not a mean spirit, nor a sordid
+soul, nor a sad heart there--ah, Thorndike, I wish I could see it
+again.
+
+"Suddenly, the martial note of a bugle cleaves the hum and murmur--
+clear the ring!
+
+"They clear it.  The great gate is flung open, and the procession
+marches in, splendidly costumed and glittering:  the marshals of
+the day, then the picadores on horseback, then the matadores on
+foot, each surrounded by his quadrille of chulos.  They march to
+the box of the city fathers, and formally salute.  The key is
+thrown, the bull-gate is unlocked.  Another bugle blast--the gate
+flies open, the bull plunges in, furious, trembling, blinking in
+the blinding light, and stands there, a magnificent creature,
+centre of those multitudinous and admiring eyes, brave, ready for
+battle, his attitude a challenge.  He sees his enemy:  horsemen
+sitting motionless, with long spears in rest, upon blindfolded
+broken-down nags, lean and starved, fit only for sport and
+sacrifice, then the carrion-heap.
+
+"The bull makes a rush, with murder in his eye, but a picador meets
+him with a spear-thrust in the shoulder.  He flinches with the
+pain, and the picador skips out of danger.  A burst of applause for
+the picador, hisses for the bull.  Some shout 'Cow!' at the bull,
+and call him offensive names.  But he is not listening to them, he
+is there for business; he is not minding the cloak-bearers that
+come fluttering around to confuse him; he chases this way, he
+chases that way, and hither and yon, scattering the nimble
+banderillos in every direction like a spray, and receiving their
+maddening darts in his neck as they dodge and fly--oh, but it's a
+lively spectacle, and brings down the house!  Ah, you should hear
+the thundering roar that goes up when the game is at its wildest
+and brilliant things are done!
+
+"Oh, that first bull, that day, was great!  From the moment the
+spirit of war rose to flood-tide in him and he got down to his
+work, he began to do wonders.  He tore his way through his
+persecutors, flinging one of them clear over the parapet; he bowled
+a horse and his rider down, and plunged straight for the next, got
+home with his horns, wounding both horse and man; on again, here
+and there and this way and that; and one after another he tore the
+bowels out of two horses so that they gushed to the ground, and
+ripped a third one so badly that although they rushed him to cover
+and shoved his bowels back and stuffed the rents with tow and rode
+him against the bull again, he couldn't make the trip; he tried to
+gallop, under the spur, but soon reeled and tottered and fell, all
+in a heap.  For a while, that bull-ring was the most thrilling and
+glorious and inspiring sight that ever was seen.  The bull
+absolutely cleared it, and stood there alone! monarch of the place.
+The people went mad for pride in him, and joy and delight, and you
+couldn't hear yourself think, for the roar and boom and crash of
+applause."
+
+"Antonio, it carries me clear out of myself just to hear you tell
+it; it must have been perfectly splendid.  If I live, I'll see a
+bull-fight yet before I die.  Did they kill him?"
+
+"Oh yes; that is what the bull is for.  They tired him out, and got
+him at last.  He kept rushing the matador, who always slipped
+smartly and gracefully aside in time, waiting for a sure chance;
+and at last it came; the bull made a deadly plunge for him--was
+avoided neatly, and as he sped by, the long sword glided silently
+into him, between left shoulder and spine--in and in, to the hilt.
+He crumpled down, dying."
+
+"Ah, Antonio, it IS the noblest sport that ever was.  I would give
+a year of my life to see it.  Is the bull always killed?"
+
+"Yes.  Sometimes a bull is timid, finding himself in so strange a
+place, and he stands trembling, or tries to retreat.  Then
+everybody despises him for his cowardice and wants him punished and
+made ridiculous; so they hough him from behind, and it is the
+funniest thing in the world to see him hobbling around on his
+severed legs; the whole vast house goes into hurricanes of laughter
+over it; I have laughed till the tears ran down my cheeks to see
+it.  When he has furnished all the sport he can, he is not any
+longer useful, and is killed."
+
+"Well, it is perfectly grand, Antonio, perfectly beautiful.
+Burning a nigger don't begin."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII--MONGREL AND THE OTHER HORSE
+
+
+
+"Sage-Brush, you have been listening?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Isn't it strange?"
+
+"Well, no, Mongrel, I don't know that it is."
+
+"Why don't you?"
+
+"I've seen a good many human beings in my time.  They are created
+as they are; they cannot help it.  They are only brutal because
+that is their make; brutes would be brutal if it was THEIR make."
+
+"To me, Sage-Brush, man is most strange and unaccountable.  Why
+should he treat dumb animals that way when they are not doing any
+harm?"
+
+"Man is not always like that, Mongrel; he is kind enough when he is
+not excited by religion."
+
+"Is the bull-fight a religious service?"
+
+"I think so.  I have heard so.  It is held on Sunday."
+
+(A reflective pause, lasting some moments.)  Then:
+
+"When we die, Sage-Brush, do we go to heaven and dwell with man?"
+
+"My father thought not.  He believed we do not have to go there
+unless we deserve it."
+
+
+
+
+PART II--IN SPAIN
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII--GENERAL ALISON TO HIS MOTHER
+
+
+
+It was a prodigious trip, but delightful, of course, through the
+Rockies and the Black Hills and the mighty sweep of the Great
+Plains to civilization and the Missouri border--where the
+railroading began and the delightfulness ended.  But no one is the
+worse for the journey; certainly not Cathy, nor Dorcas, nor Soldier
+Boy; and as for me, I am not complaining.
+
+Spain is all that Cathy had pictured it--and more, she says.  She
+is in a fury of delight, the maddest little animal that ever was,
+and all for joy.  She thinks she remembers Spain, but that is not
+very likely, I suppose.  The two--Mercedes and Cathy--devour each
+other.  It is a rapture of love, and beautiful to see.  It is
+Spanish; that describes it.  Will this be a short visit?
+
+No.  It will be permanent.  Cathy has elected to abide with Spain
+and her aunt.  Dorcas says she (Dorcas) foresaw that this would
+happen; and also says that she wanted it to happen, and says the
+child's own country is the right place for her, and that she ought
+not to have been sent to me, I ought to have gone to her.  I
+thought it insane to take Soldier Boy to Spain, but it was well
+that I yielded to Cathy's pleadings; if he had been left behind,
+half of her heart would have remained with him, and she would not
+have been contented.  As it is, everything has fallen out for the
+best, and we are all satisfied and comfortable.  It may be that
+Dorcas and I will see America again some day; but also it is a case
+of maybe not.
+
+We left the post in the early morning.  It was an affecting time.
+The women cried over Cathy, so did even those stern warriors, the
+Rocky Mountain Rangers; Shekels was there, and the Cid, and
+Sardanapalus, and Potter, and Mongrel, and Sour-Mash, Famine, and
+Pestilence, and Cathy kissed them all and wept; details of the
+several arms of the garrison were present to represent the rest,
+and say good-bye and God bless you for all the soldiery; and there
+was a special squad from the Seventh, with the oldest veteran at
+its head, to speed the Seventh's Child with grand honors and
+impressive ceremonies; and the veteran had a touching speech by
+heart, and put up his hand in salute and tried to say it, but his
+lips trembled and his voice broke, but Cathy bent down from the
+saddle and kissed him on the mouth and turned his defeat to
+victory, and a cheer went up.
+
+The next act closed the ceremonies, and was a moving surprise.  It
+may be that you have discovered, before this, that the rigors of
+military law and custom melt insensibly away and disappear when a
+soldier or a regiment or the garrison wants to do something that
+will please Cathy.  The bands conceived the idea of stirring her
+soldierly heart with a farewell which would remain in her memory
+always, beautiful and unfading, and bring back the past and its
+love for her whenever she should think of it; so they got their
+project placed before General Burnaby, my successor, who is Cathy's
+newest slave, and in spite of poverty of precedents they got his
+permission.  The bands knew the child's favorite military airs.  By
+this hint you know what is coming, but Cathy didn't.  She was asked
+to sound the "reveille," which she did.
+
+[REVEILLE]
+
+With the last note the bands burst out with a crash:  and woke the
+mountains with the "Star-Spangled Banner" in a way to make a body's
+heart swell and thump and his hair rise!  It was enough to break a
+person all up, to see Cathy's radiant face shining out through her
+gladness and tears.  By request she blew the "assembly," now. . . .
+
+[THE ASSEMBLY]
+
+. . . Then the bands thundered in, with "Rally round the flag,
+boys, rally once again!"  Next, she blew another call ("to the
+Standard") . . .
+
+[TO THE STANDARD]
+
+. . . and the bands responded with "When we were marching through
+Georgia."  Straightway she sounded "boots and saddles," that
+thrilling and most expediting call. . . .
+
+[BOOTS AND SADDLES]
+
+and the bands could hardly hold in for the final note; then they
+turned their whole strength loose on "Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys
+are marching," and everybody's excitement rose to blood-heat.
+
+Now an impressive pause--then the bugle sang "TAPS"--translatable,
+this time, into "Good-bye, and God keep us all!" for taps is the
+soldier's nightly release from duty, and farewell:  plaintive,
+sweet, pathetic, for the morning is never sure, for him; always it
+is possible that he is hearing it for the last time. . . .
+
+[TAPS]
+
+. . . Then the bands turned their instruments towards Cathy and
+burst in with that rollicking frenzy of a tune, "Oh, we'll all get
+blind drunk when Johnny comes marching home--yes, we'll all get
+blind drunk when Johnny comes marching home!" and followed it
+instantly with "Dixie," that antidote for melancholy, merriest and
+gladdest of all military music on any side of the ocean--and that
+was the end.  And so--farewell!
+
+I wish you could have been there to see it all, hear it all, and
+feel it:  and get yourself blown away with the hurricane huzza that
+swept the place as a finish.
+
+When we rode away, our main body had already been on the road an
+hour or two--I speak of our camp equipage; but we didn't move off
+alone:  when Cathy blew the "advance" the Rangers cantered out in
+column of fours, and gave us escort, and were joined by White Cloud
+and Thunder-Bird in all their gaudy bravery, and by Buffalo Bill
+and four subordinate scouts.  Three miles away, in the Plains, the
+Lieutenant-General halted, sat her horse like a military statue,
+the bugle at her lips, and put the Rangers through the evolutions
+for half an hour; and finally, when she blew the "charge," she led
+it herself.  "Not for the last time," she said, and got a cheer,
+and we said good-bye all around, and faced eastward and rode away.
+
+Postscript.  A Day Later.  Soldier Boy was stolen last night.
+Cathy is almost beside herself, and we cannot comfort her.
+Mercedes and I are not much alarmed about the horse, although this
+part of Spain is in something of a turmoil, politically, at
+present, and there is a good deal of lawlessness.  In ordinary
+times the thief and the horse would soon be captured.  We shall
+have them before long, I think.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV--SOLDIER BOY--TO HIMSELF
+
+
+
+It is five months.  Or is it six?  My troubles have clouded my
+memory.  I have been all over this land, from end to end, and now I
+am back again since day before yesterday, to that city which we
+passed through, that last day of our long journey, and which is
+near her country home.  I am a tottering ruin and my eyes are dim,
+but I recognized it.  If she could see me she would know me and
+sound my call.  I wish I could hear it once more; it would revive
+me, it would bring back her face and the mountains and the free
+life, and I would come--if I were dying I would come!  She would
+not know ME, looking as I do, but she would know me by my star.
+But she will never see me, for they do not let me out of this
+shabby stable--a foul and miserable place, with most two wrecks
+like myself for company.
+
+How many times have I changed hands?  I think it is twelve times--I
+cannot remember; and each time it was down a step lower, and each
+time I got a harder master.  They have been cruel, every one; they
+have worked me night and day in degraded employments, and beaten
+me; they have fed me ill, and some days not at all.  And so I am
+but bones, now, with a rough and frowsy skin humped and cornered
+upon my shrunken body--that skin which was once so glossy, that
+skin which she loved to stroke with her hand.  I was the pride of
+the mountains and the Great Plains; now I am a scarecrow and
+despised.  These piteous wrecks that are my comrades here say we
+have reached the bottom of the scale, the final humiliation; they
+say that when a horse is no longer worth the weeds and discarded
+rubbish they feed to him, they sell him to the bull-ring for a
+glass of brandy, to make sport for the people and perish for their
+pleasure.
+
+To die--that does not disturb me; we of the service never care for
+death.  But if I could see her once more! if I could hear her bugle
+sing again and say, "It is I, Soldier--come!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV--GENERAL ALISON TO MRS. DRAKE, THE COLONEL'S WIFE
+
+
+
+To return, now, to where I was, and tell you the rest.  We shall
+never know how she came to be there; there is no way to account for
+it.  She was always watching for black and shiny and spirited
+horses--watching, hoping, despairing, hoping again; always giving
+chase and sounding her call, upon the meagrest chance of a
+response, and breaking her heart over the disappointment; always
+inquiring, always interested in sales-stables and horse
+accumulations in general.  How she got there must remain a mystery.
+
+At the point which I had reached in a preceding paragraph of this
+account, the situation was as follows:  two horses lay dying; the
+bull had scattered his persecutors for the moment, and stood
+raging, panting, pawing the dust in clouds over his back, when the
+man that had been wounded returned to the ring on a remount, a poor
+blindfolded wreck that yet had something ironically military about
+his bearing--and the next moment the bull had ripped him open and
+his bowls were dragging upon the ground:  and the bull was charging
+his swarm of pests again.  Then came pealing through the air a
+bugle-call that froze my blood--"IT IS I, SOLDIER--COME!"  I
+turned; Cathy was flying down through the massed people; she
+cleared the parapet at a bound, and sped towards that riderless
+horse, who staggered forward towards the remembered sound; but his
+strength failed, and he fell at her feet, she lavishing kisses upon
+him and sobbing, the house rising with one impulse, and white with
+horror!  Before help could reach her the bull was back again--
+
+She was never conscious again in life.  We bore her home, all
+mangled and drenched in blood, and knelt by her and listened to her
+broken and wandering words, and prayed for her passing spirit, and
+there was no comfort--nor ever will be, I think.  But she was
+happy, for she was far away under another sky, and comrading again
+with her Rangers, and her animal friends, and the soldiers.  Their
+names fell softly and caressingly from her lips, one by one, with
+pauses between.  She was not in pain, but lay with closed eyes,
+vacantly murmuring, as one who dreams.  Sometimes she smiled,
+saying nothing; sometimes she smiled when she uttered a name--such
+as Shekels, or BB, or Potter.  Sometimes she was at her fort,
+issuing commands; sometimes she was careering over the plain at the
+head of her men; sometimes she was training her horse; once she
+said, reprovingly, "You are giving me the wrong foot; give me the
+left--don't you know it is good-bye?"
+
+After this, she lay silent some time; the end was near.  By-and-by
+she murmured, "Tired . . . sleepy . . . take Cathy, mamma."  Then,
+"Kiss me, Soldier."  For a little time, she lay so still that we
+were doubtful if she breathed.  Then she put out her hand and began
+to feel gropingly about; then said, "I cannot find it; blow
+'taps.'"  It was the end.
+
+
+
+
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+<a href="#startoftext">A Horse's Tale, by Mark Twain</a>
+</h2>
+<pre>
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Horse's Tale, by Mark Twain
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+
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+Title: A Horse's Tale
+
+Author: Mark Twain
+
+Release Date: October, 1997  [EBook #1086]
+[This file was first posted on October 21, 1997]
+[Most recently updated: June 28, 2003]
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+Edition: 10
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+Language: English
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+</pre>
+<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p>
+<p>Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<h1>A HORSE&rsquo;S TALE</h1>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>CHAPTER I&mdash;SOLDIER BOY&mdash;PRIVATELY TO HIMSELF</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>I am Buffalo Bill&rsquo;s horse.&nbsp; I have spent my life under
+his saddle&mdash;with him in it, too, and he is good for two hundred
+pounds, without his clothes; and there is no telling how much he does
+weigh when he is out on the war-path and has his batteries belted on.&nbsp;
+He is over six feet, is young, hasn&rsquo;t an ounce of waste flesh,
+is straight, graceful, springy in his motions, quick as a cat, and has
+a handsome face, and black hair dangling down on his shoulders, and
+is beautiful to look at; and nobody is braver than he is, and nobody
+is stronger, except myself.&nbsp; Yes, a person that doubts that he
+is fine to see should see him in his beaded buck-skins, on my back and
+his rifle peeping above his shoulder, chasing a hostile trail, with
+me going like the wind and his hair streaming out behind from the shelter
+of his broad slouch.&nbsp; Yes, he is a sight to look at then&mdash;and
+I&rsquo;m part of it myself.</p>
+<p>I am his favorite horse, out of dozens.&nbsp; Big as he is, I have
+carried him eighty-one miles between nightfall and sunrise on the scout;
+and I am good for fifty, day in and day out, and all the time.&nbsp;
+I am not large, but I am built on a business basis.&nbsp; I have carried
+him thousands and thousands of miles on scout duty for the army, and
+there&rsquo;s not a gorge, nor a pass, nor a valley, nor a fort, nor
+a trading post, nor a buffalo-range in the whole sweep of the Rocky
+Mountains and the Great Plains that we don&rsquo;t know as well as we
+know the bugle-calls.&nbsp; He is Chief of Scouts to the Army of the
+Frontier, and it makes us very important.&nbsp; In such a position as
+I hold in the military service one needs to be of good family and possess
+an education much above the common to be worthy of the place.&nbsp;
+I am the best-educated horse outside of the hippodrome, everybody says,
+and the best-mannered.&nbsp; It may be so, it is not for me to say;
+modesty is the best policy, I think.&nbsp; Buffalo Bill taught me the
+most of what I know, my mother taught me much, and I taught myself the
+rest.&nbsp; Lay a row of moccasins before me&mdash;Pawnee, Sioux, Shoshone,
+Cheyenne, Blackfoot, and as many other tribes as you please&mdash;and
+I can name the tribe every moccasin belongs to by the make of it.&nbsp;
+Name it in horse-talk, and could do it in American if I had speech.</p>
+<p>I know some of the Indian signs&mdash;the signs they make with their
+hands, and by signal-fires at night and columns of smoke by day.&nbsp;
+Buffalo Bill taught me how to drag wounded soldiers out of the line
+of fire with my teeth; and I&rsquo;ve done it, too; at least I&rsquo;ve
+dragged <i>him</i> out of the battle when he was wounded.&nbsp; And
+not just once, but twice.&nbsp; Yes, I know a lot of things.&nbsp; I
+remember forms, and gaits, and faces; and you can&rsquo;t disguise a
+person that&rsquo;s done me a kindness so that I won&rsquo;t know him
+thereafter wherever I find him.&nbsp; I know the art of searching for
+a trail, and I know the stale track from the fresh.&nbsp; I can keep
+a trail all by myself, with Buffalo Bill asleep in the saddle; ask him&mdash;he
+will tell you so.&nbsp; Many a time, when he has ridden all night, he
+has said to me at dawn, &ldquo;Take the watch, Boy; if the trail freshens,
+call me.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then he goes to sleep.&nbsp; He knows he can trust
+me, because I have a reputation.&nbsp; A scout horse that has a reputation
+does not play with it.</p>
+<p>My mother was all American&mdash;no alkali-spider about <i>her</i>,
+I can tell you; she was of the best blood of Kentucky, the bluest Blue-grass
+aristocracy, very proud and acrimonious&mdash;or maybe it is ceremonious.&nbsp;
+I don&rsquo;t know which it is.&nbsp; But it is no matter; size is the
+main thing about a word, and that one&rsquo;s up to standard.&nbsp;
+She spent her military life as colonel of the Tenth Dragoons, and saw
+a deal of rough service&mdash;distinguished service it was, too.&nbsp;
+I mean, she <i>carried</i> the Colonel; but it&rsquo;s all the same.&nbsp;
+Where would he be without his horse?&nbsp; He wouldn&rsquo;t arrive.&nbsp;
+It takes two to make a colonel of dragoons.&nbsp; She was a fine dragoon
+horse, but never got above that.&nbsp; She was strong enough for the
+scout service, and had the endurance, too, but she couldn&rsquo;t quite
+come up to the speed required; a scout horse has to have steel in his
+muscle and lightning in his blood.</p>
+<p>My father was a bronco.&nbsp; Nothing as to lineage&mdash;that is,
+nothing as to recent lineage&mdash;but plenty good enough when you go
+a good way back.&nbsp; When Professor Marsh was out here hunting bones
+for the chapel of Yale University he found skeletons of horses no bigger
+than a fox, bedded in the rocks, and he said they were ancestors of
+my father.&nbsp; My mother heard him say it; and he said those skeletons
+were two million years old, which astonished her and made her Kentucky
+pretensions look small and pretty antiphonal, not to say oblique.&nbsp;
+Let me see. . . . I used to know the meaning of those words, but . .
+. well, it was years ago, and &rsquo;tisn&rsquo;t as vivid now as it
+was when they were fresh.&nbsp; That sort of words doesn&rsquo;t keep,
+in the kind of climate we have out here.&nbsp; Professor Marsh said
+those skeletons were fossils.&nbsp; So that makes me part blue grass
+and part fossil; if there is any older or better stock, you will have
+to look for it among the Four Hundred, I reckon.&nbsp; I am satisfied
+with it.&nbsp; And am a happy horse, too, though born out of wedlock.</p>
+<p>And now we are back at Fort Paxton once more, after a forty-day scout,
+away up as far as the Big Horn.&nbsp; Everything quiet.&nbsp; Crows
+and Blackfeet squabbling&mdash;as usual&mdash;but no outbreaks, and
+settlers feeling fairly easy.</p>
+<p>The Seventh Cavalry still in garrison, here; also the Ninth Dragoons,
+two artillery companies, and some infantry.&nbsp; All glad to see me,
+including General Alison, commandant.&nbsp; The officers&rsquo; ladies
+and children well, and called upon me&mdash;with sugar.&nbsp; Colonel
+Drake, Seventh Cavalry, said some pleasant things; Mrs. Drake was very
+complimentary; also Captain and Mrs. Marsh, Company B, Seventh Cavalry;
+also the Chaplain, who is always kind and pleasant to me, because I
+kicked the lungs out of a trader once.&nbsp; It was Tommy Drake and
+Fanny Marsh that furnished the sugar&mdash;nice children, the nicest
+at the post, I think.</p>
+<p>That poor orphan child is on her way from France&mdash;everybody
+is full of the subject.&nbsp; Her father was General Alison&rsquo;s
+brother; married a beautiful young Spanish lady ten years ago, and has
+never been in America since.&nbsp; They lived in Spain a year or two,
+then went to France.&nbsp; Both died some months ago.&nbsp; This little
+girl that is coming is the only child.&nbsp; General Alison is glad
+to have her.&nbsp; He has never seen her.&nbsp; He is a very nice old
+bachelor, but is an old bachelor just the same and isn&rsquo;t more
+than about a year this side of retirement by age limit; and so what
+does he know about taking care of a little maid nine years old?&nbsp;
+If I could have her it would be another matter, for I know all about
+children, and they adore me.&nbsp; Buffalo Bill will tell you so himself.</p>
+<p>I have some of this news from over-hearing the garrison-gossip, the
+rest of it I got from Potter, the General&rsquo;s dog.&nbsp; Potter
+is the great Dane.&nbsp; He is privileged, all over the post, like Shekels,
+the Seventh Cavalry&rsquo;s dog, and visits everybody&rsquo;s quarters
+and picks up everything that is going, in the way of news.&nbsp; Potter
+has no imagination, and no great deal of culture, perhaps, but he has
+a historical mind and a good memory, and so he is the person I depend
+upon mainly to post me up when I get back from a scout.&nbsp; That is,
+if Shekels is out on depredation and I can&rsquo;t get hold of him.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>CHAPTER II&mdash;LETTER FROM ROUEN&mdash;TO GENERAL ALISON</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>My dear Brother-in-Law,&mdash;Please let me write again in Spanish,
+I cannot trust my English, and I am aware, from what your brother used
+to say, that army officers educated at the Military Academy of the United
+States are taught our tongue.&nbsp; It is as I told you in my other
+letter: both my poor sister and her husband, when they found they could
+not recover, expressed the wish that you should have their little Catherine&mdash;as
+knowing that you would presently be retired from the army&mdash;rather
+than that she should remain with me, who am broken in health, or go
+to your mother in California, whose health is also frail.</p>
+<p>You do not know the child, therefore I must tell you something about
+her.&nbsp; You will not be ashamed of her looks, for she is a copy in
+little of her beautiful mother&mdash;and it is that Andalusian beauty
+which is not surpassable, even in your country.&nbsp; She has her mother&rsquo;s
+charm and grace and good heart and sense of justice, and she has her
+father&rsquo;s vivacity and cheerfulness and pluck and spirit of enterprise,
+with the affectionate disposition and sincerity of both parents.</p>
+<p>My sister pined for her Spanish home all these years of exile; she
+was always talking of Spain to the child, and tending and nourishing
+the love of Spain in the little thing&rsquo;s heart as a precious flower;
+and she died happy in the knowledge that the fruitage of her patriotic
+labors was as rich as even she could desire.</p>
+<p>Cathy is a sufficiently good little scholar, for her nine years;
+her mother taught her Spanish herself, and kept it always fresh upon
+her ear and her tongue by hardly ever speaking with her in any other
+tongue; her father was her English teacher, and talked with her in that
+language almost exclusively; French has been her everyday speech for
+more than seven years among her playmates here; she has a good working
+use of governess&mdash;German and Italian.&nbsp; It is true that there
+is always a faint foreign fragrance about her speech, no matter what
+language she is talking, but it is only just noticeable, nothing more,
+and is rather a charm than a mar, I think.&nbsp; In the ordinary child-studies
+Cathy is neither before nor behind the average child of nine, I should
+say.&nbsp; But I can say this for her: in love for her friends and in
+high-mindedness and good-heartedness she has not many equals, and in
+my opinion no superiors.&nbsp; And I beg of you, let her have her way
+with the dumb animals&mdash;they are her worship.&nbsp; It is an inheritance
+from her mother.&nbsp; She knows but little of cruelties and oppressions&mdash;keep
+them from her sight if you can.&nbsp; She would flare up at them and
+make trouble, in her small but quite decided and resolute way; for she
+has a character of her own, and lacks neither promptness nor initiative.&nbsp;
+Sometimes her judgment is at fault, but I think her intentions are always
+right.&nbsp; Once when she was a little creature of three or four years
+she suddenly brought her tiny foot down upon the floor in an apparent
+outbreak of indignation, then fetched it a backward wipe, and stooped
+down to examine the result.&nbsp; Her mother said:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, what is it, child?&nbsp; What has stirred you so?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Mamma, the big ant was trying to kill the little one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And so you protected the little one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, manure, because he had no friend, and I wouldn&rsquo;t
+let the big one kill him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But you have killed them both.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Cathy was distressed, and her lip trembled.&nbsp; She picked up the
+remains and laid them upon her palm, and said:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor little anty, I&rsquo;m so sorry; and I didn&rsquo;t mean
+to kill you, but there wasn&rsquo;t any other way to save you, it was
+such a hurry.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She is a dear and sweet little lady, and when she goes it will give
+me a sore heart.&nbsp; But she will be happy with you, and if your heart
+is old and tired, give it into her keeping; she will make it young again,
+she will refresh it, she will make it sing.&nbsp; Be good to her, for
+all our sakes!</p>
+<p>My exile will soon be over now.&nbsp; As soon as I am a little stronger
+I shall see my Spain again; and that will make me young again!</p>
+<p>MERCEDES.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>CHAPTER III&mdash;GENERAL ALISON TO HIS MOTHER</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>I am glad to know that you are all well, in San Bernardino.</p>
+<p>. . . That grandchild of yours has been here&mdash;well, I do not
+quite know how many days it is; nobody can keep account of days or anything
+else where she is!&nbsp; Mother, she did what the Indians were never
+able to do.&nbsp; She took the Fort&mdash;took it the first day!&nbsp;
+Took me, too; took the colonels, the captains, the women, the children,
+and the dumb brutes; took Buffalo Bill, and all his scouts; took the
+garrison&mdash;to the last man; and in forty-eight hours the Indian
+encampment was hers, illustrious old Thunder-Bird and all.&nbsp; Do
+I seem to have lost my solemnity, my gravity, my poise, my dignity?&nbsp;
+You would lose your own, in my circumstances.&nbsp; Mother, you never
+saw such a winning little devil.&nbsp; She is all energy, and spirit,
+and sunshine, and interest in everybody and everything, and pours out
+her prodigal love upon every creature that will take it, high or low,
+Christian or pagan, feathered or furred; and none has declined it to
+date, and none ever will, I think.&nbsp; But she has a temper, and sometimes
+it catches fire and flames up, and is likely to burn whatever is near
+it; but it is soon over, the passion goes as quickly as it comes.&nbsp;
+Of course she has an Indian name already; Indians always rechristen
+a stranger early.&nbsp; Thunder-Bird attended to her case.&nbsp; He
+gave her the Indian equivalent for firebug, or fire-fly.&nbsp; He said:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;Times, ver&rsquo; quiet, ver&rsquo; soft, like summer
+night, but when she mad she blaze.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Isn&rsquo;t it good?&nbsp; Can&rsquo;t you see the flare?&nbsp; She&rsquo;s
+beautiful, mother, beautiful as a picture; and there is a touch of you
+in her face, and of her father&mdash;poor George! and in her unresting
+activities, and her fearless ways, and her sunbursts and cloudbursts,
+she is always bringing George back to me.&nbsp; These impulsive natures
+are dramatic.&nbsp; George was dramatic, so is this Lightning-Bug, so
+is Buffalo Bill.&nbsp; When Cathy first arrived&mdash;it was in the
+forenoon&mdash;Buffalo Bill was away, carrying orders to Major Fuller,
+at Five Forks, up in the Clayton Hills.&nbsp; At mid-afternoon I was
+at my desk, trying to work, and this sprite had been making it impossible
+for half an hour.&nbsp; At last I said:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you bewitching little scamp, <i>can&rsquo;t</i> you be
+quiet just a minute or two, and let your poor old uncle attend to a
+part of his duties?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll try, uncle; I will, indeed,&rdquo; she said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, that&rsquo;s a good child&mdash;kiss me.&nbsp;
+Now, then, sit up in that chair, and set your eye on that clock.&nbsp;
+There&mdash;that&rsquo;s right.&nbsp; If you stir&mdash;if you so much
+as wink&mdash;for four whole minutes, I&rsquo;ll bite you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was very sweet and humble and obedient she looked, sitting there,
+still as a mouse; I could hardly keep from setting her free and telling
+her to make as much racket as she wanted to.&nbsp; During as much as
+two minutes there was a most unnatural and heavenly quiet and repose,
+then Buffalo Bill came thundering up to the door in all his scout finery,
+flung himself out of the saddle, said to his horse, &ldquo;Wait for
+me, Boy,&rdquo; and stepped in, and stopped dead in his tracks&mdash;gazing
+at the child.&nbsp; She forgot orders, and was on the floor in a moment,
+saying:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you are so beautiful!&nbsp; Do you like me?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I don&rsquo;t, I love you!&rdquo; and he gathered her
+up with a hug, and then set her on his shoulder&mdash;apparently nine
+feet from the floor.</p>
+<p>She was at home.&nbsp; She played with his long hair, and admired
+his big hands and his clothes and his carbine, and asked question after
+question, as fast as he could answer, until I excused them both for
+half an hour, in order to have a chance to finish my work.&nbsp; Then
+I heard Cathy exclaiming over Soldier Boy; and he was worthy of her
+raptures, for he is a wonder of a horse, and has a reputation which
+is as shining as his own silken hide.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>CHAPTER IV&mdash;CATHY TO HER AUNT MERCEDES</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Oh, it is wonderful here, aunty dear, just paradise!&nbsp; Oh, if
+you could only see it! everything so wild and lovely; such grand plains,
+stretching such miles and miles and miles, all the most delicious velvety
+sand and sage-brush, and rabbits as big as a dog, and such tall and
+noble jackassful ears that that is what they name them by; and such
+vast mountains, and so rugged and craggy and lofty, with cloud-shawls
+wrapped around their shoulders, and looking so solemn and awful and
+satisfied; and the charming Indians, oh, how you would dote on them,
+aunty dear, and they would on you, too, and they would let you hold
+their babies, the way they do me, and they <i>are</i> the fattest, and
+brownest, and sweetest little things, and never cry, and wouldn&rsquo;t
+if they had pins sticking in them, which they haven&rsquo;t, because
+they are poor and can&rsquo;t afford it; and the horses and mules and
+cattle and dogs&mdash;hundreds and hundreds and hundreds, and not an
+animal that you can&rsquo;t do what you please with, except uncle Thomas,
+but <i>I</i> don&rsquo;t mind him, he&rsquo;s lovely; and oh, if you
+could hear the bugles: <i>too&mdash;too&mdash;too-too&mdash;too&mdash;too</i>,
+and so on&mdash;perfectly beautiful!&nbsp; Do you recognize that one?&nbsp;
+It&rsquo;s the first toots of the <i>reveille</i>; it goes, dear me,
+<i>so</i> early in the morning!&mdash;then I and every other soldier
+on the whole place are up and out in a minute, except uncle Thomas,
+who is most unaccountably lazy, I don&rsquo;t know why, but I have talked
+to him about it, and I reckon it will be better, now.&nbsp; He hasn&rsquo;t
+any faults much, and is charming and sweet, like Buffalo Bill, and Thunder-Bird,
+and Mammy Dorcas, and Soldier Boy, and Shekels, and Potter, and Sour-Mash,
+and&mdash;well, they&rsquo;re <i>all</i> that, just angels, as you may
+say.</p>
+<p>The very first day I came, I don&rsquo;t know how long ago it was,
+Buffalo Bill took me on Soldier Boy to Thunder-Bird&rsquo;s camp, not
+the big one which is out on the plain, which is White Cloud&rsquo;s,
+he took me to <i>that</i> one next day, but this one is four or five
+miles up in the hills and crags, where there is a great shut-in meadow,
+full of Indian lodges and dogs and squaws and everything that is interesting,
+and a brook of the clearest water running through it, with white pebbles
+on the bottom and trees all along the banks cool and shady and good
+to wade in, and as the sun goes down it is dimmish in there, but away
+up against the sky you see the big peaks towering up and shining bright
+and vivid in the sun, and sometimes an eagle sailing by them, not flapping
+a wing, the same as if he was asleep; and young Indians and girls romping
+and laughing and carrying on, around the spring and the pool, and not
+much clothes on except the girls, and dogs fighting, and the squaws
+busy at work, and the bucks busy resting, and the old men sitting in
+a bunch smoking, and passing the pipe not to the left but to the right,
+which means there&rsquo;s been a row in the camp and they are settling
+it if they can, and children playing <i>just</i> the same as any other
+children, and little boys shooting at a mark with bows, and I cuffed
+one of them because he hit a dog with a club that wasn&rsquo;t doing
+anything, and he resented it but before long he wished he hadn&rsquo;t:
+but this sentence is getting too long and I will start another.&nbsp;
+Thunder-Bird put on his Sunday-best war outfit to let me see him, and
+he was splendid to look at, with his face painted red and bright and
+intense like a fire-coal and a valance of eagle feathers from the top
+of his head all down his back, and he had his tomahawk, too, and his
+pipe, which has a stem which is longer than my arm, and I never had
+such a good time in an Indian camp in my life, and I learned a lot of
+words of the language, and next day BB took me to the camp out on the
+Plains, four miles, and I had another good time and got acquainted with
+some more Indians and dogs; and the big chief, by the name of White
+Cloud, gave me a pretty little bow and arrows and I gave him my red
+sash-ribbon, and in four days I could shoot very well with it and beat
+any white boy of my size at the post; and I have been to those camps
+plenty of times since; and I have learned to ride, too, BB taught me,
+and every day he practises me and praises me, and every time I do better
+than ever he lets me have a scamper on Soldier Boy, and <i>that&rsquo;s</i>
+the last agony of pleasure! for he is the charmingest horse, and so
+beautiful and shiny and black, and hasn&rsquo;t another color on him
+anywhere, except a white star in his forehead, not just an imitation
+star, but a real one, with four points, shaped exactly like a star that&rsquo;s
+hand-made, and if you should cover him all up but his star you would
+know him anywhere, even in Jerusalem or Australia, by that.&nbsp; And
+I got acquainted with a good many of the Seventh Cavalry, and the dragoons,
+and officers, and families, and horses, in the first few days, and some
+more in the next few and the next few and the next few, and now I know
+more soldiers and horses than you can think, no matter how hard you
+try.&nbsp; I am keeping up my studies every now and then, but there
+isn&rsquo;t much time for it.&nbsp; I love you so! and I send you a
+hug and a kiss.</p>
+<p>CATHY.</p>
+<p>P.S.&mdash;I belong to the Seventh Cavalry and Ninth Dragoons, I
+am an officer, too, and do not have to work on account of not getting
+any wages.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>CHAPTER V&mdash;GENERAL ALISON TO MERCEDES</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>She has been with us a good nice long time, now.&nbsp; You are troubled
+about your sprite because this is such a wild frontier, hundreds of
+miles from civilization, and peopled only by wandering tribes of savages?&nbsp;
+You fear for her safety?&nbsp; Give yourself no uneasiness about her.&nbsp;
+Dear me, she&rsquo;s in a nursery! and she&rsquo;s got more than eighteen
+hundred nurses.&nbsp; It would distress the garrison to suspect that
+you think they can&rsquo;t take care of her.&nbsp; They think they can.&nbsp;
+They would tell you so themselves.&nbsp; You see, the Seventh Cavalry
+has never had a child of its very own before, and neither has the Ninth
+Dragoons; and so they are like all new mothers, they think there is
+no other child like theirs, no other child so wonderful, none that is
+so worthy to be faithfully and tenderly looked after and protected.&nbsp;
+These bronzed veterans of mine are very good mothers, I think, and wiser
+than some other mothers; for they let her take lots of risks, and it
+is a good education for her; and the more risks she takes and comes
+successfully out of, the prouder they are of her.&nbsp; They adopted
+her, with grave and formal military ceremonies of their own invention&mdash;solemnities
+is the truer word; solemnities that were so profoundly solemn and earnest,
+that the spectacle would have been comical if it hadn&rsquo;t been so
+touching.&nbsp; It was a good show, and as stately and complex as guard-mount
+and the trooping of the colors; and it had its own special music, composed
+for the occasion by the bandmaster of the Seventh; and the child was
+as serious as the most serious war-worn soldier of them all; and finally
+when they throned her upon the shoulder of the oldest veteran, and pronounced
+her &ldquo;well and truly adopted,&rdquo; and the bands struck up and
+all saluted and she saluted in return, it was better and more moving
+than any kindred thing I have seen on the stage, because stage things
+are make-believe, but this was real and the players&rsquo; hearts were
+in it.</p>
+<p>It happened several weeks ago, and was followed by some additional
+solemnities.&nbsp; The men created a couple of new ranks, thitherto
+unknown to the army regulations, and conferred them upon Cathy, with
+ceremonies suitable to a duke.&nbsp; So now she is Corporal-General
+of the Seventh Cavalry, and Flag-Lieutenant of the Ninth Dragoons, with
+the privilege (decreed by the men) of writing U.S.A. after her name!&nbsp;
+Also, they presented her a pair of shoulder-straps&mdash;both dark blue,
+the one with F. L. on it, the other with C. G.&nbsp; Also, a sword.&nbsp;
+She wears them.&nbsp; Finally, they granted her the <i>salute</i>.&nbsp;
+I am witness that that ceremony is faithfully observed by both parties&mdash;and
+most gravely and decorously, too.&nbsp; I have never seen a soldier
+smile yet, while delivering it, nor Cathy in returning it.</p>
+<p>Ostensibly I was not present at these proceedings, and am ignorant
+of them; but I was where I could see.&nbsp; I was afraid of one thing&mdash;the
+jealousy of the other children of the post; but there is nothing of
+that, I am glad to say.&nbsp; On the contrary, they are proud of their
+comrade and her honors.&nbsp; It is a surprising thing, but it is true.&nbsp;
+The children are devoted to Cathy, for she has turned their dull frontier
+life into a sort of continuous festival; also they know her for a stanch
+and steady friend, a friend who can always be depended upon, and does
+not change with the weather.</p>
+<p>She has become a rather extraordinary rider, under the tutorship
+of a more than extraordinary teacher&mdash;BB, which is her pet name
+for Buffalo Bill.&nbsp; She pronounces it <i>beeby</i>.&nbsp; He has
+not only taught her seventeen ways of breaking her neck, but twenty-two
+ways of avoiding it.&nbsp; He has infused into her the best and surest
+protection of a horseman&mdash;<i>confidence</i>.&nbsp; He did it gradually,
+systematically, little by little, a step at a time, and each step made
+sure before the next was essayed.&nbsp; And so he inched her along up
+through terrors that had been discounted by training before she reached
+them, and therefore were not recognizable as terrors when she got to
+them.&nbsp; Well, she is a daring little rider, now, and is perfect
+in what she knows of horsemanship.&nbsp; By-and-by she will know the
+art like a West Point cadet, and will exercise it as fearlessly.&nbsp;
+She doesn&rsquo;t know anything about side-saddles.&nbsp; Does that
+distress you?&nbsp; And she is a fine performer, without any saddle
+at all.&nbsp; Does that discomfort you?&nbsp; Do not let it; she is
+not in any danger, I give you my word.</p>
+<p>You said that if my heart was old and tired she would refresh it,
+and you said truly.&nbsp; I do not know how I got along without her,
+before.&nbsp; I was a forlorn old tree, but now that this blossoming
+vine has wound itself about me and become the life of my life, it is
+very different.&nbsp; As a furnisher of business for me and for Mammy
+Dorcas she is exhaustlessly competent, but I like my share of it and
+of course Dorcas likes hers, for Dorcas &ldquo;raised&rdquo; George,
+and Cathy is George over again in so many ways that she brings back
+Dorcas&rsquo;s youth and the joys of that long-vanished time.&nbsp;
+My father tried to set Dorcas free twenty years ago, when we still lived
+in Virginia, but without success; she considered herself a member of
+the family, and wouldn&rsquo;t go.&nbsp; And so, a member of the family
+she remained, and has held that position unchallenged ever since, and
+holds it now; for when my mother sent her here from San Bernardino when
+we learned that Cathy was coming, she only changed from one division
+of the family to the other.&nbsp; She has the warm heart of her race,
+and its lavish affections, and when Cathy arrived the pair were mother
+and child in five minutes, and that is what they are to date and will
+continue.&nbsp; Dorcas really thinks she raised George, and that is
+one of her prides, but perhaps it was a mutual raising, for their ages
+were the same&mdash;thirteen years short of mine.&nbsp; But they were
+playmates, at any rate; as regards that, there is no room for dispute.</p>
+<p>Cathy thinks Dorcas is the best Catholic in America except herself.&nbsp;
+She could not pay any one a higher compliment than that, and Dorcas
+could not receive one that would please her better.&nbsp; Dorcas is
+satisfied that there has never been a more wonderful child than Cathy.&nbsp;
+She has conceived the curious idea that Cathy is <i>twins</i>, and that
+one of them is a boy-twin and failed to get segregated&mdash;got submerged,
+is the idea.&nbsp; To argue with her that this is nonsense is a waste
+of breath&mdash;her mind is made up, and arguments do not affect it.&nbsp;
+She says:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look at her; she loves dolls, and girl-plays, and everything
+a girl loves, and she&rsquo;s gentle and sweet, and ain&rsquo;t cruel
+to dumb brutes&mdash;now that&rsquo;s the girl-twin, but she loves boy-plays,
+and drums and fifes and soldiering, and rough-riding, and ain&rsquo;t
+afraid of anybody or anything&mdash;and that&rsquo;s the boy-twin; &rsquo;deed
+you needn&rsquo;t tell <i>me</i> she&rsquo;s only <i>one</i> child;
+no, sir, she&rsquo;s twins, and one of them got shet up out of sight.&nbsp;
+Out of sight, but that don&rsquo;t make any difference, that boy is
+in there, and you can see him look out of her eyes when her temper is
+up.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then Dorcas went on, in her simple and earnest way, to furnish illustrations.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look at that raven, Marse Tom.&nbsp; Would anybody befriend
+a raven but that child?&nbsp; Of course they wouldn&rsquo;t; it ain&rsquo;t
+natural.&nbsp; Well, the Injun boy had the raven tied up, and was all
+the time plaguing it and starving it, and she pitied the po&rsquo; thing,
+and tried to buy it from the boy, and the tears was in her eyes.&nbsp;
+That was the girl-twin, you see.&nbsp; She offered him her thimble,
+and he flung it down; she offered him all the doughnuts she had, which
+was two, and he flung them down; she offered him half a paper of pins,
+worth forty ravens, and he made a mouth at her and jabbed one of them
+in the raven&rsquo;s back.&nbsp; That was the limit, you know.&nbsp;
+It called for the other twin.&nbsp; Her eyes blazed up, and she jumped
+for him like a wild-cat, and when she was done with him she was rags
+and he wasn&rsquo;t anything but an allegory.&nbsp; That was most undoubtedly
+the other twin, you see, coming to the front.&nbsp; No, sir; don&rsquo;t
+tell <i>me</i> he ain&rsquo;t in there.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ve seen him with
+my own eyes&mdash;and plenty of times, at that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Allegory?&nbsp; What is an allegory?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, Marse Tom, it&rsquo;s one of her words;
+she loves the big ones, you know, and I pick them up from her; they
+sound good and I can&rsquo;t help it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What happened after she had converted the boy into an allegory?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, she untied the raven and confiscated him by force and
+fetched him home, and left the doughnuts and things on the ground.&nbsp;
+Petted him, of course, like she does with every creature.&nbsp; In two
+days she had him so stuck after her that she&mdash;well, <i>you</i>
+know how he follows her everywhere, and sets on her shoulder often when
+she rides her breakneck rampages&mdash;all of which is the girl-twin
+to the front, you see&mdash;and he does what he pleases, and is up to
+all kinds of devilment, and is a perfect nuisance in the kitchen.&nbsp;
+Well, they all stand it, but they wouldn&rsquo;t if it was another person&rsquo;s
+bird.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Here she began to chuckle comfortably, and presently she said:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, you know, she&rsquo;s a nuisance herself, Miss Cathy
+is, she <i>is</i> so busy, and into everything, like that bird.&nbsp;
+It&rsquo;s all just as innocent, you know, and she don&rsquo;t mean
+any harm, and is so good and dear; and it ain&rsquo;t her fault, it&rsquo;s
+her nature; her interest is always a-working and always red-hot, and
+she can&rsquo;t keep quiet.&nbsp; Well, yesterday it was &lsquo;Please,
+Miss Cathy, don&rsquo;t do that&rsquo;; and, &lsquo;Please, Miss Cathy,
+let that alone&rsquo;; and, &lsquo;Please, Miss Cathy, don&rsquo;t make
+so much noise&rsquo;; and so on and so on, till I reckon I had found
+fault fourteen times in fifteen minutes; then she looked up at me with
+her big brown eyes that can plead so, and said in that odd little foreign
+way that goes to your heart,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;&rsquo;Please, mammy, make me a compliment.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And of course you did it, you old fool?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Marse Tom, I just grabbed her up to my breast and says, &lsquo;Oh,
+you po&rsquo; dear little motherless thing, you ain&rsquo;t got a fault
+in the world, and you can do anything you want to, and tear the house
+down, and yo&rsquo; old black mammy won&rsquo;t say a word!&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, of course, of course&mdash;<i>I</i> knew you&rsquo;d
+spoil the child.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She brushed away her tears, and said with dignity:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Spoil the child? spoil <i>that</i> child, Marse Tom?&nbsp;
+There can&rsquo;t <i>anybody</i> spoil her.&nbsp; She&rsquo;s the king
+bee of this post, and everybody pets her and is her slave, and yet,
+as you know, your own self, she ain&rsquo;t the least little bit spoiled.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Then she eased her mind with this retort: &ldquo;Marse Tom, she makes
+you do anything she wants to, and you can&rsquo;t deny it; so if she
+could be spoilt, she&rsquo;d been spoilt long ago, because you are the
+very <i>worst</i>!&nbsp; Look at that pile of cats in your chair, and
+you sitting on a candle-box, just as patient; it&rsquo;s because they&rsquo;re
+her cats.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>If Dorcas were a soldier, I could punish her for such large frankness
+as that.&nbsp; I changed the subject, and made her resume her illustrations.&nbsp;
+She had scored against me fairly, and I wasn&rsquo;t going to cheapen
+her victory by disputing it.&nbsp; She proceeded to offer this incident
+in evidence on her twin theory:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Two weeks ago when she got her finger mashed open, she turned
+pretty pale with the pain, but she never said a word.&nbsp; I took her
+in my lap, and the surgeon sponged off the blood and took a needle and
+thread and began to sew it up; it had to have a lot of stitches, and
+each one made her scrunch a little, but she never let go a sound.&nbsp;
+At last the surgeon was so full of admiration that he said, &lsquo;Well,
+you <i>are</i> a brave little thing!&rsquo; and she said, just as ca&rsquo;m
+and simple as if she was talking about the weather, &lsquo;There isn&rsquo;t
+anybody braver but the Cid!&rsquo;&nbsp; You see? it was the boy-twin
+that the surgeon was a-dealing with.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is the Cid?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know, sir&mdash;at least only what she says.&nbsp;
+She&rsquo;s always talking about him, and says he was the bravest hero
+Spain ever had, or any other country.&nbsp; They have it up and down,
+the children do, she standing up for the Cid, and they working George
+Washington for all he is worth.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do they quarrel?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No; it&rsquo;s only disputing, and bragging, the way children
+do.&nbsp; They want her to be an American, but she can&rsquo;t be anything
+but a Spaniard, she says.&nbsp; You see, her mother was always longing
+for home, po&rsquo; thing! and thinking about it, and so the child is
+just as much a Spaniard as if she&rsquo;d always lived there.&nbsp;
+She thinks she remembers how Spain looked, but I reckon she don&rsquo;t,
+because she was only a baby when they moved to France.&nbsp; She is
+very proud to be a Spaniard.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Does that please you, Mercedes?&nbsp; Very well, be content; your
+niece is loyal to her allegiance: her mother laid deep the foundations
+of her love for Spain, and she will go back to you as good a Spaniard
+as you are yourself.&nbsp; She has made me promise to take her to you
+for a long visit when the War Office retires me.</p>
+<p>I attend to her studies myself; has she told you that?&nbsp; Yes,
+I am her school-master, and she makes pretty good progress, I think,
+everything considered.&nbsp; Everything considered&mdash;being translated&mdash;means
+holidays.&nbsp; But the fact is, she was not born for study, and it
+comes hard.&nbsp; Hard for me, too; it hurts me like a physical pain
+to see that free spirit of the air and the sunshine laboring and grieving
+over a book; and sometimes when I find her gazing far away towards the
+plain and the blue mountains with the longing in her eyes, I have to
+throw open the prison doors; I can&rsquo;t help it.&nbsp; A quaint little
+scholar she is, and makes plenty of blunders.&nbsp; Once I put the question:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What does the Czar govern?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She rested her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand and took
+that problem under deep consideration.&nbsp; Presently she looked up
+and answered, with a rising inflection implying a shade of uncertainty,</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The dative case?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Here are a couple of her expositions which were delivered with tranquil
+confidence:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>Chaplain</i>, diminutive of chap.&nbsp; <i>Lass</i> is
+masculine, <i>lassie</i> is feminine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She is not a genius, you see, but just a normal child; they all make
+mistakes of that sort.&nbsp; There is a glad light in her eye which
+is pretty to see when she finds herself able to answer a question promptly
+and accurately, without any hesitation; as, for instance, this morning:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Cathy dear, what is a cube?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, a native of Cuba.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>She still drops a foreign word into her talk now and then, and there
+is still a subtle foreign flavor or fragrance about even her exactest
+English&mdash;and long may this abide! for it has for me a charm that
+is very pleasant.&nbsp; Sometimes her English is daintily prim and bookish
+and captivating.&nbsp; She has a child&rsquo;s sweet tooth, but for
+her health&rsquo;s sake I try to keep its inspirations under cheek.&nbsp;
+She is obedient&mdash;as is proper for a titled and recognized military
+personage, which she is&mdash;but the chain presses sometimes.&nbsp;
+For instance, we were out for a walk, and passed by some bushes that
+were freighted with wild goose-berries.&nbsp; Her face brightened and
+she put her hands together and delivered herself of this speech, most
+feelingly:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, if I was permitted a vice it would be the <i>gourmandise</i>!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Could I resist that?&nbsp; No.&nbsp; I gave her a gooseberry.</p>
+<p>You ask about her languages.&nbsp; They take care of themselves;
+they will not get rusty here; our regiments are not made up of natives
+alone&mdash;far from it.&nbsp; And she is picking up Indian tongues
+diligently.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>CHAPTER VI&mdash;SOLDIER BOY AND THE MEXICAN PLUG</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;When did you come?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Arrived at sundown.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where from?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Salt Lake.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you in the service?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&nbsp; Trade.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Pirate trade, I reckon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you know about it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I saw you when you came.&nbsp; I recognized your master.&nbsp;
+He is a bad sort.&nbsp; Trap-robber, horse-thief, squaw-man, renegado&mdash;Hank
+Butters&mdash;I know him very well.&nbsp; Stole you, didn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it amounted to that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I thought so.&nbsp; Where is his pard?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He stopped at White Cloud&rsquo;s camp.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He is another of the same stripe, is Blake Haskins.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+(<i>Aside</i>.)&nbsp; They are laying for Buffalo Bill again, I guess.&nbsp;
+(<i>Aloud</i>.)&nbsp; &ldquo;What is your name?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Which one?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Have you got more than one?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I get a new one every time I&rsquo;m stolen.&nbsp; I used
+to have an honest name, but that was early; I&rsquo;ve forgotten it.&nbsp;
+Since then I&rsquo;ve had thirteen <i>aliases</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Aliases?&nbsp; What is alias?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A false name.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Alias.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s a fine large word, and is in my line;
+it has quite a learned and cerebrospinal incandescent sound.&nbsp; Are
+you educated?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, no, I can&rsquo;t claim it.&nbsp; I can take down bars,
+I can distinguish oats from shoe-pegs, I can blaspheme a saddle-boil
+with the college-bred, and I know a few other things&mdash;not many;
+I have had no chance, I have always had to work; besides, I am of low
+birth and no family.&nbsp; You speak my dialect like a native, but you
+are not a Mexican Plug, you are a gentleman, I can see that; and educated,
+of course.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I am of old family, and not illiterate.&nbsp; I am a
+fossil.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A which?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fossil.&nbsp; The first horses were fossils.&nbsp; They date
+back two million years.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Gr-eat sand and sage-brush! do you mean it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, it is true.&nbsp; The bones of my ancestors are held
+in reverence and worship, even by men.&nbsp; They do not leave them
+exposed to the weather when they find them, but carry them three thousand
+miles and enshrine them in their temples of learning, and worship them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is wonderful!&nbsp; I knew you must be a person of distinction,
+by your fine presence and courtly address, and by the fact that you
+are not subjected to the indignity of hobbles, like myself and the rest.&nbsp;
+Would you tell me your name?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have probably heard of it&mdash;Soldier Boy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What!&mdash;the renowned, the illustrious?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Even so.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It takes my breath!&nbsp; Little did I dream that ever I should
+stand face to face with the possessor of that great name.&nbsp; Buffalo
+Bill&rsquo;s horse!&nbsp; Known from the Canadian border to the deserts
+of Arizona, and from the eastern marches of the Great Plains to the
+foot-hills of the Sierra!&nbsp; Truly this is a memorable day.&nbsp;
+You still serve the celebrated Chief of Scouts?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am still his property, but he has lent me, for a time, to
+the most noble, the most gracious, the most excellent, her Excellency
+Catherine, Corporal-General Seventh Cavalry and Flag-Lieutenant Ninth
+Dragoons, U.S.A.,&mdash;on whom be peace!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Amen.&nbsp; Did you say <i>her</i> Excellency?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The same.&nbsp; A Spanish lady, sweet blossom of a ducal house.&nbsp;
+And truly a wonder; knowing everything, capable of everything; speaking
+all the languages, master of all sciences, a mind without horizons,
+a heart of gold, the glory of her race!&nbsp; On whom be peace!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Amen.&nbsp; It is marvellous!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Verily.&nbsp; I knew many things, she has taught me others.&nbsp;
+I am educated.&nbsp; I will tell you about her.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I listen&mdash;I am enchanted.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will tell a plain tale, calmly, without excitement, without
+eloquence.&nbsp; When she had been here four or five weeks she was already
+erudite in military things, and they made her an officer&mdash;a double
+officer.&nbsp; She rode the drill every day, like any soldier; and she
+could take the bugle and direct the evolutions herself.&nbsp; Then,
+on a day, there was a grand race, for prizes&mdash;none to enter but
+the children.&nbsp; Seventeen children entered, and she was the youngest.&nbsp;
+Three girls, fourteen boys&mdash;good riders all.&nbsp; It was a steeplechase,
+with four hurdles, all pretty high.&nbsp; The first prize was a most
+cunning half-grown silver bugle, and mighty pretty, with red silk cord
+and tassels.&nbsp; Buffalo Bill was very anxious; for he had taught
+her to ride, and he did most dearly want her to win that race, for the
+glory of it.&nbsp; So he wanted her to ride me, but she wouldn&rsquo;t;
+and she reproached him, and said it was unfair and unright, and taking
+advantage; for what horse in this post or any other could stand a chance
+against me? and she was very severe with him, and said, &lsquo;You ought
+to be ashamed&mdash;you are proposing to me conduct unbecoming an officer
+and a gentleman.&rsquo;&nbsp; So he just tossed her up in the air about
+thirty feet and caught her as she came down, and said he was ashamed;
+and put up his handkerchief and pretended to cry, which nearly broke
+her heart, and she petted him, and begged him to forgive her, and said
+she would do anything in the world he could ask but that; but he said
+he ought to go hang himself, and he <i>must</i>, if he could get a rope;
+it was nothing but right he should, for he never, never could forgive
+himself; and then <i>she</i> began to cry, and they both sobbed, the
+way you could hear him a mile, and she clinging around his neck and
+pleading, till at last he was comforted a little, and gave his solemn
+promise he wouldn&rsquo;t hang himself till after the race; and wouldn&rsquo;t
+do it at all if she won it, which made her happy, and she said she would
+win it or die in the saddle; so then everything was pleasant again and
+both of them content.&nbsp; He can&rsquo;t help playing jokes on her,
+he is so fond of her and she is so innocent and unsuspecting; and when
+she finds it out she cuffs him and is in a fury, but presently forgives
+him because it&rsquo;s him; and maybe the very next day she&rsquo;s
+caught with another joke; you see she can&rsquo;t learn any better,
+because she hasn&rsquo;t any deceit in her, and that kind aren&rsquo;t
+ever expecting it in another person.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was a grand race.&nbsp; The whole post was there, and there
+was such another whooping and shouting when the seventeen kids came
+flying down the turf and sailing over the hurdles&mdash;oh, beautiful
+to see!&nbsp; Half-way down, it was kind of neck and neck, and anybody&rsquo;s
+race and nobody&rsquo;s.&nbsp; Then, what should happen but a cow steps
+out and puts her head down to munch grass, with her broadside to the
+battalion, and they a-coming like the wind; they split apart to flank
+her, but <i>she</i>?&mdash;why, she drove the spurs home and soared
+over that cow like a bird! and on she went, and cleared the last hurdle
+solitary and alone, the army letting loose the grand yell, and she skipped
+from the horse the same as if he had been standing still, and made her
+bow, and everybody crowded around to congratulate, and they gave her
+the bugle, and she put it to her lips and blew &lsquo;boots and saddles&rsquo;
+to see how it would go, and BB was as proud as you can&rsquo;t think!&nbsp;
+And he said, &lsquo;Take Soldier Boy, and don&rsquo;t pass him back
+till I ask for him!&rsquo; and I can tell you he wouldn&rsquo;t have
+said that to any other person on this planet.&nbsp; That was two months
+and more ago, and nobody has been on my back since but the Corporal-General
+Seventh Cavalry and Flag-Lieutenant of the Ninth Dragoons, U.S.A.,&mdash;on
+whom be peace!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Amen.&nbsp; I listen&mdash;tell me more.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She set to work and organized the Sixteen, and called it the
+First Battalion Rocky Mountain Rangers, U.S.A., and she wanted to be
+bugler, but they elected her Lieutenant-General and Bugler.&nbsp; So
+she ranks her uncle the commandant, who is only a Brigadier.&nbsp; And
+doesn&rsquo;t she train those little people!&nbsp; Ask the Indians,
+ask the traders, ask the soldiers; they&rsquo;ll tell you.&nbsp; She
+has been at it from the first day.&nbsp; Every morning they go clattering
+down into the plain, and there she sits on my back with her bugle at
+her mouth and sounds the orders and puts them through the evolutions
+for an hour or more; and it is too beautiful for anything to see those
+ponies dissolve from one formation into another, and waltz about, and
+break, and scatter, and form again, always moving, always graceful,
+now trotting, now galloping, and so on, sometimes near by, sometimes
+in the distance, all just like a state ball, you know, and sometimes
+she can&rsquo;t hold herself any longer, but sounds the &lsquo;charge,&rsquo;
+and turns me loose! and you can take my word for it, if the battalion
+hasn&rsquo;t too much of a start we catch up and go over the breastworks
+with the front line.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, they are soldiers, those little people; and healthy,
+too, not ailing any more, the way they used to be sometimes.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s
+because of her drill.&nbsp; She&rsquo;s got a fort, now&mdash;Fort Fanny
+Marsh.&nbsp; Major-General Tommy Drake planned it out, and the Seventh
+and Dragoons built it.&nbsp; Tommy is the Colonel&rsquo;s son, and is
+fifteen and the oldest in the Battalion; Fanny Marsh is Brigadier-General,
+and is next oldest&mdash;over thirteen.&nbsp; She is daughter of Captain
+Marsh, Company B, Seventh Cavalry.&nbsp; Lieutenant-General Alison is
+the youngest by considerable; I think she is about nine and a half or
+three-quarters.&nbsp; Her military rig, as Lieutenant-General, isn&rsquo;t
+for business, it&rsquo;s for dress parade, because the ladies made it.&nbsp;
+They say they got it out of the Middle Ages&mdash;out of a book&mdash;and
+it is all red and blue and white silks and satins and velvets; tights,
+trunks, sword, doublet with slashed sleeves, short cape, cap with just
+one feather in it; I&rsquo;ve heard them name these things; they got
+them out of the book; she&rsquo;s dressed like a page, of old times,
+they say.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s the daintiest outfit that ever was&mdash;you
+will say so, when you see it.&nbsp; She&rsquo;s lovely in it&mdash;oh,
+just a dream!&nbsp; In some ways she is just her age, but in others
+she&rsquo;s as old as her uncle, I think.&nbsp; She is very learned.&nbsp;
+She teaches her uncle his book.&nbsp; I have seen her sitting by with
+the book and reciting to him what is in it, so that he can learn to
+do it himself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Every Saturday she hires little Injuns to garrison her fort;
+then she lays siege to it, and makes military approaches by make-believe
+trenches in make-believe night, and finally at make-believe dawn she
+draws her sword and sounds the assault and takes it by storm.&nbsp;
+It is for practice.&nbsp; And she has invented a bugle-call all by herself,
+out of her own head, and it&rsquo;s a stirring one, and the prettiest
+in the service.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s to call <i>me</i>&mdash;it&rsquo;s
+never used for anything else.&nbsp; She taught it to me, and told me
+what it says: &lsquo;<i>It is I</i>, <i>Soldier&mdash;come</i>!&rsquo;
+and when those thrilling notes come floating down the distance I hear
+them without fail, even if I am two miles away; and then&mdash;oh, then
+you should see my heels get down to business!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And she has taught me how to say good-morning and good-night
+to her, which is by lifting my right hoof for her to shake; and also
+how to say good-bye; I do that with my left foot&mdash;but only for
+practice, because there hasn&rsquo;t been any but make-believe good-byeing
+yet, and I hope there won&rsquo;t ever be.&nbsp; It would make me cry
+if I ever had to put up my left foot in earnest.&nbsp; She has taught
+me how to salute, and I can do it as well as a soldier.&nbsp; I bow
+my head low, and lay my right hoof against my cheek.&nbsp; She taught
+me that because I got into disgrace once, through ignorance.&nbsp; I
+am privileged, because I am known to be honorable and trustworthy, and
+because I have a distinguished record in the service; so they don&rsquo;t
+hobble me nor tie me to stakes or shut me tight in stables, but let
+me wander around to suit myself.&nbsp; Well, trooping the colors is
+a very solemn ceremony, and everybody must stand uncovered when the
+flag goes by, the commandant and all; and once I was there, and ignorantly
+walked across right in front of the band, which was an awful disgrace:
+Ah, the Lieutenant-General was so ashamed, and so distressed that I
+should have done such a thing before all the world, that she couldn&rsquo;t
+keep the tears back; and then she taught me the salute, so that if I
+ever did any other unmilitary act through ignorance I could do my salute
+and she believed everybody would think it was apology enough and would
+not press the matter.&nbsp; It is very nice and distinguished; no other
+horse can do it; often the men salute me, and I return it.&nbsp; I am
+privileged to be present when the Rocky Mountain Rangers troop the colors
+and I stand solemn, like the children, and I salute when the flag goes
+by.&nbsp; Of course when she goes to her fort her sentries sing out
+&lsquo;Turn out the guard!&rsquo; and then . . . do you catch that refreshing
+early-morning whiff from the mountain-pines and the wild flowers?&nbsp;
+The night is far spent; we&rsquo;ll hear the bugles before long.&nbsp;
+Dorcas, the black woman, is very good and nice; she takes care of the
+Lieutenant-General, and is Brigadier-General Alison&rsquo;s mother,
+which makes her mother-in-law to the Lieutenant-General.&nbsp; That
+is what Shekels says.&nbsp; At least it is what I think he says, though
+I never can understand him quite clearly. He&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who is Shekels?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Seventh Cavalry dog.&nbsp; I mean, if he <i>is</i> a dog.&nbsp;
+His father was a coyote and his mother was a wild-cat.&nbsp; It doesn&rsquo;t
+really make a dog out of him, does it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not a real dog, I should think.&nbsp; Only a kind of a general
+dog, at most, I reckon.&nbsp; Though this is a matter of ichthyology,
+I suppose; and if it is, it is out of my depth, and so my opinion is
+not valuable, and I don&rsquo;t claim much consideration for it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t ichthyology; it is dogmatics, which is still
+more difficult and tangled up.&nbsp; Dogmatics always are.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dogmatics is quite beyond me, quite; so I am not competing.&nbsp;
+But on general principles it is my opinion that a colt out of a coyote
+and a wild-cat is no square dog, but doubtful.&nbsp; That is my hand,
+and I stand pat.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it is as far as I can go myself, and be fair and conscientious.&nbsp;
+I have always regarded him as a doubtful dog, and so has Potter.&nbsp;
+Potter is the great Dane.&nbsp; Potter says he is no dog, and not even
+poultry&mdash;though I do not go quite so far as that.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And I wouldn&rsquo;t, myself.&nbsp; Poultry is one of those
+things which no person can get to the bottom of, there is so much of
+it and such variety.&nbsp; It is just wings, and wings, and wings, till
+you are weary: turkeys, and geese, and bats, and butterflies, and angels,
+and grasshoppers, and flying-fish, and&mdash;well, there is really no
+end to the tribe; it gives me the heaves just to think of it.&nbsp;
+But this one hasn&rsquo;t any wings, has he?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, in my belief he is more likely to be dog than
+poultry.&nbsp; I have not heard of poultry that hadn&rsquo;t wings.&nbsp;
+Wings is the <i>sign</i> of poultry; it is what you tell poultry by.&nbsp;
+Look at the mosquito.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you reckon he is, then?&nbsp; He must be something.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, he could be a reptile; anything that hasn&rsquo;t wings
+is a reptile.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who told you that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nobody told me, but I overheard it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where did you overhear it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Years ago.&nbsp; I was with the Philadelphia Institute expedition
+in the Bad Lands under Professor Cope, hunting mastodon bones, and I
+overheard him say, his own self, that any plantigrade circumflex vertebrate
+bacterium that hadn&rsquo;t wings and was uncertain was a reptile.&nbsp;
+Well, then, has this dog any wings?&nbsp; No.&nbsp; Is he a plantigrade
+circumflex vertebrate bacterium?&nbsp; Maybe so, maybe not; but without
+ever having seen him, and judging only by his illegal and spectacular
+parentage, I will bet the odds of a bale of hay to a bran mash that
+he looks it.&nbsp; Finally, is he uncertain?&nbsp; That is the point&mdash;is
+he uncertain?&nbsp; I will leave it to you if you have ever heard of
+a more uncertainer dog than what this one is?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I never have.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, he&rsquo;s a reptile.&nbsp; That&rsquo;s settled.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, look here, whatsyourname&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Last alias, Mongrel.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;A good one, too.&nbsp; I was going to say, you are better
+educated than you have been pretending to be.&nbsp; I like cultured
+society, and I shall cultivate your acquaintance.&nbsp; Now as to Shekels,
+whenever you want to know about any private thing that is going on at
+this post or in White Cloud&rsquo;s camp or Thunder-Bird&rsquo;s, he
+can tell you; and if you make friends with him he&rsquo;ll be glad to,
+for he is a born gossip, and picks up all the tittle-tattle.&nbsp; Being
+the whole Seventh Cavalry&rsquo;s reptile, he doesn&rsquo;t belong to
+anybody in particular, and hasn&rsquo;t any military duties; so he comes
+and goes as he pleases, and is popular with all the house cats and other
+authentic sources of private information.&nbsp; He understands all the
+languages, and talks them all, too.&nbsp; With an accent like gritting
+your teeth, it is true, and with a grammar that is no improvement on
+blasphemy&mdash;still, with practice you get at the meat of what he
+says, and it serves. . . Hark!&nbsp; That&rsquo;s the reveille. . .
+.</p>
+<p>[THE REVEILLE]</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Faint and far, but isn&rsquo;t it clear, isn&rsquo;t it sweet?&nbsp;
+There&rsquo;s no music like the bugle to stir the blood, in the still
+solemnity of the morning twilight, with the dim plain stretching away
+to nothing and the spectral mountains slumbering against the sky.&nbsp;
+You&rsquo;ll hear another note in a minute&mdash;faint and far and clear,
+like the other one, and sweeter still, you&rsquo;ll notice.&nbsp; Wait
+. . . listen.&nbsp; There it goes!&nbsp; It says, &lsquo;<i>It is I,
+Soldier&mdash;come</i>!&rsquo; . . .</p>
+<p>[SOLDIER BOY&rsquo;S BUGLE CALL]</p>
+<p>. . . Now then, watch me leave a blue streak behind!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>CHAPTER VII&mdash;SOLDIER BOY AND SHEKELS</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you do as I told you?&nbsp; Did you look up the Mexican
+Plug?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I made his acquaintance before night and got his friendship.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I liked him.&nbsp; Did you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not at first.&nbsp; He took me for a reptile, and it troubled
+me, because I didn&rsquo;t know whether it was a compliment or not.&nbsp;
+I couldn&rsquo;t ask him, because it would look ignorant.&nbsp; So I
+didn&rsquo;t say anything, and soon liked him very well indeed.&nbsp;
+Was it a compliment, do you think?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, that is what it was.&nbsp; They are very rare, the reptiles;
+very few left, now-a-days.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is that so?&nbsp; What is a reptile?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is a plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium that hasn&rsquo;t
+any wings and is uncertain.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it&mdash;it sounds fine, it surely does.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And it <i>is</i> fine.&nbsp; You may be thankful you are one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am.&nbsp; It seems wonderfully grand and elegant for a person
+that is so humble as I am; but I am thankful, I am indeed, and will
+try to live up to it.&nbsp; It is hard to remember.&nbsp; Will you say
+it again, please, and say it slow?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Plantigrade circumflex vertebrate bacterium that hasn&rsquo;t
+any wings and is uncertain.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is beautiful, anybody must grant it; beautiful, and of
+a noble sound.&nbsp; I hope it will not make me proud and stuck-up&mdash;I
+should not like to be that.&nbsp; It is much more distinguished and
+honorable to be a reptile than a dog, don&rsquo;t you think, Soldier?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, there&rsquo;s no comparison.&nbsp; It is awfully aristocratic.&nbsp;
+Often a duke is called a reptile; it is set down so, in history.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t that grand!&nbsp; Potter wouldn&rsquo;t ever associate
+with me, but I reckon he&rsquo;ll be glad to when he finds out what
+I am.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You can depend upon it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I will thank Mongrel for this. He is a very good sort, for
+a Mexican Plug.&nbsp; Don&rsquo;t you think he is?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is my opinion of him; and as for his birth, he cannot help
+that.&nbsp; We cannot all be reptiles, we cannot all be fossils; we
+have to take what comes and be thankful it is no worse.&nbsp; It is
+the true philosophy.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For those others?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Stick to the subject, please.&nbsp; Did it turn out that my
+suspicions were right?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, perfectly right.&nbsp; Mongrel has heard them planning.&nbsp;
+They are after BB&rsquo;s life, for running them out of Medicine Bow
+and taking their stolen horses away from them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, they&rsquo;ll get him yet, for sure.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not if he keeps a sharp look-out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>He</i> keep a sharp lookout!&nbsp; He never does; he despises
+them, and all their kind.&nbsp; His life is always being threatened,
+and so it has come to be monotonous.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Does he know they are here?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh yes, he knows it.&nbsp; He is always the earliest to know
+who comes and who goes.&nbsp; But he cares nothing for them and their
+threats; he only laughs when people warn him.&nbsp; They&rsquo;ll shoot
+him from behind a tree the first he knows.&nbsp; Did Mongrel tell you
+their plans?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&nbsp; They have found out that he starts for Fort Clayton
+day after to-morrow, with one of his scouts; so they will leave to-morrow,
+letting on to go south, but they will fetch around north all in good
+time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Shekels, I don&rsquo;t like the look of it.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>CHAPTER VIII&mdash;THE SCOUT-START.&nbsp; BB AND LIEUTENANT-GENERAL
+ALISON</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>BB (<i>saluting</i>).&nbsp; &ldquo;Good! handsomely done!&nbsp; The
+Seventh couldn&rsquo;t beat it!&nbsp; You do certainly handle your Rangers
+like an expert, General.&nbsp; And where are you bound?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Four miles on the trail to Fort Clayton.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Glad am I, dear!&nbsp; What&rsquo;s the idea of it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Guard of honor for you and Thorndike.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bless&mdash;your&mdash;<i>heart</i>!&nbsp; I&rsquo;d rather
+have it from you than from the Commander-in-Chief of the armies of the
+United States, you incomparable little soldier!&mdash;and I don&rsquo;t
+need to take any oath to that, for you to believe it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I <i>thought</i> you&rsquo;d like it, BB.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>&ldquo;Like</i> it?&nbsp; Well, I should say so!&nbsp; Now then&mdash;all
+ready&mdash;sound the advance, and away we go!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>CHAPTER IX&mdash;SOLDIER BOY AND SHEKELS AGAIN</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, this is the way it happened.&nbsp; We did the escort
+duty; then we came back and struck for the plain and put the Rangers
+through a rousing drill&mdash;oh, for hours!&nbsp; Then we sent them
+home under Brigadier-General Fanny Marsh; then the Lieutenant-General
+and I went off on a gallop over the plains for about three hours, and
+were lazying along home in the middle of the afternoon, when we met
+Jimmy Slade, the drummer-boy, and he saluted and asked the Lieutenant-General
+if she had heard the news, and she said no, and he said:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Buffalo Bill has been ambushed and badly shot this
+side of Clayton, and Thorndike the scout, too; Bill couldn&rsquo;t travel,
+but Thorndike could, and he brought the news, and Sergeant Wilkes and
+six men of Company B are gone, two hours ago, hotfoot, to get Bill.&nbsp;
+And they say&mdash;&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;<i>Go</i>!&rsquo; she shouts to me&mdash;and I went.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fast?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t ask foolish questions.&nbsp; It was an awful pace.&nbsp;
+For four hours nothing happened, and not a word said, except that now
+and then she said, &lsquo;Keep it up, Boy, keep it up, sweetheart; we&rsquo;ll
+save him!&rsquo;&nbsp; I kept it up.&nbsp; Well, when the dark shut
+down, in the rugged hills, that poor little chap had been tearing around
+in the saddle all day, and I noticed by the slack knee-pressure that
+she was tired and tottery, and I got dreadfully afraid; but every time
+I tried to slow down and let her go to sleep, so I could stop, she hurried
+me up again; and so, sure enough, at last over she went!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, that was a fix to be in I for she lay there and didn&rsquo;t
+stir, and what was I to do?&nbsp; I couldn&rsquo;t leave her to fetch
+help, on account of the wolves.&nbsp; There was nothing to do but stand
+by.&nbsp; It was dreadful.&nbsp; I was afraid she was killed, poor little
+thing!&nbsp; But she wasn&rsquo;t.&nbsp; She came to, by-and-by, and
+said, &lsquo;Kiss me, Soldier,&rsquo; and those were blessed words.&nbsp;
+I kissed her&mdash;often; I am used to that, and we like it.&nbsp; But
+she didn&rsquo;t get up, and I was worried.&nbsp; She fondled my nose
+with her hand, and talked to me, and called me endearing names&mdash;which
+is her way&mdash;but she caressed with the same hand all the time.&nbsp;
+The other arm was broken, you see, but I didn&rsquo;t know it, and she
+didn&rsquo;t mention it.&nbsp; She didn&rsquo;t want to distress me,
+you know.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Soon the big gray wolves came, and hung around, and you could
+hear them snarl, and snap at each other, but you couldn&rsquo;t see
+anything of them except their eyes, which shone in the dark like sparks
+and stars.&nbsp; The Lieutenant-General said, &lsquo;If I had the Rocky
+Mountain Rangers here, we would make those creatures climb a tree.&rsquo;&nbsp;
+Then she made believe that the Rangers were in hearing, and put up her
+bugle and blew the &lsquo;assembly&rsquo;; and then, &lsquo;boots and
+saddles&rsquo;; then the &lsquo;trot&rsquo;; &lsquo;gallop&rsquo;; &lsquo;charge!&rsquo;&nbsp;
+Then she blew the &lsquo;retreat,&rsquo; and said, &lsquo;That&rsquo;s
+for you, you rebels; the Rangers don&rsquo;t ever retreat!&rsquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The music frightened them away, but they were hungry, and
+kept coming back.&nbsp; And of course they got bolder and bolder, which
+is their way.&nbsp; It went on for an hour, then the tired child went
+to sleep, and it was pitiful to hear her moan and nestle, and I couldn&rsquo;t
+do anything for her.&nbsp; All the time I was laying for the wolves.&nbsp;
+They are in my line; I have had experience.&nbsp; At last the boldest
+one ventured within my lines, and I landed him among his friends with
+some of his skull still on him, and they did the rest.&nbsp; In the
+next hour I got a couple more, and they went the way of the first one,
+down the throats of the detachment.&nbsp; That satisfied the survivors,
+and they went away and left us in peace.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We hadn&rsquo;t any more adventures, though I kept awake all
+night and was ready.&nbsp; From midnight on the child got very restless,
+and out of her head, and moaned, and said, &lsquo;Water, water&mdash;thirsty&rsquo;;
+and now and then, &lsquo;Kiss me, Soldier&rsquo;; and sometimes she
+was in her fort and giving orders to her garrison; and once she was
+in Spain, and thought her mother was with her.&nbsp; People say a horse
+can&rsquo;t cry; but they don&rsquo;t know, because we cry inside.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was an hour after sunup that I heard the boys coming, and
+recognized the hoof-beats of Pomp and Caesar and Jerry, old mates of
+mine; and a welcomer sound there couldn&rsquo;t ever be.</p>
+<p>Buffalo Bill was in a horse-litter, with his leg broken by a bullet,
+and Mongrel and Blake Haskins&rsquo;s horse were doing the work.&nbsp;
+Buffalo Bill and Thorndike had lolled both of those toughs.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When they got to us, and Buffalo Bill saw the child lying
+there so white, he said, &lsquo;My God!&rsquo; and the sound of his
+voice brought her to herself, and she gave a little cry of pleasure
+and struggled to get up, but couldn&rsquo;t, and the soldiers gathered
+her up like the tenderest women, and their eyes were wet and they were
+not ashamed, when they saw her arm dangling; and so were Buffalo Bill&rsquo;s,
+and when they laid her in his arms he said, &lsquo;My darling, how does
+this come?&rsquo; and she said, &lsquo;We came to save you, but I was
+tired, and couldn&rsquo;t keep awake, and fell off and hurt myself,
+and couldn&rsquo;t get on again.&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;You came to save
+me, you dear little rat?&nbsp; It was too lovely of you!&rsquo;&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Yes, and Soldier stood by me, which you know he would, and protected
+me from the wolves; and if he got a chance he kicked the life out of
+some of them&mdash;for you know he would, BB.&rsquo;&nbsp; The sergeant
+said, &lsquo;He laid out three of them, sir, and here&rsquo;s the bones
+to show for it.&rsquo;&nbsp; &lsquo;He&rsquo;s a grand horse,&rsquo;
+said BB; &lsquo;he&rsquo;s the grandest horse that ever was! and has
+saved your life, Lieutenant-General Alison, and shall protect it the
+rest of his life&mdash;he&rsquo;s yours for a kiss!&rsquo;&nbsp; He
+got it, along with a passion of delight, and he said, &lsquo;You are
+feeling better now, little Spaniard&mdash;do you think you could blow
+the advance?&rsquo;&nbsp; She put up the bugle to do it, but he said
+wait a minute first.&nbsp; Then he and the sergeant set her arm and
+put it in splints, she wincing but not whimpering; then we took up the
+march for home, and that&rsquo;s the end of the tale; and I&rsquo;m
+her horse.&nbsp; Isn&rsquo;t she a brick, Shekels?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Brick?&nbsp; She&rsquo;s more than a brick, more than a thousand
+bricks&mdash;she&rsquo;s a reptile!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a compliment out of your heart, Shekels.&nbsp;
+God bless you for it!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>CHAPTER X&mdash;GENERAL ALISON AND DORCAS</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Too much company for her, Marse Tom.&nbsp; Betwixt you, and
+Shekels, the Colonel&rsquo;s wife, and the Cid&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Cid?&nbsp; Oh, I remember&mdash;the raven.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;&ldquo;&mdash;and Mrs. Captain Marsh and Famine and Pestilence
+the baby <i>coyotes</i>, and Sour-Mash and her pups, and Sardanapalus
+and her kittens&mdash;hang these names she gives the creatures, they
+warp my jaw&mdash;and Potter: you&mdash;all sitting around in the house,
+and Soldier Boy at the window the entire time, it&rsquo;s a wonder to
+me she comes along as well as she does.&nbsp; She&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You want her all to yourself, you stingy old thing!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Marse Tom, you know better.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s too much company.&nbsp;
+And then the idea of her receiving reports all the time from her officers,
+and acting upon them, and giving orders, the same as if she was well!&nbsp;
+It ain&rsquo;t good for her, and the surgeon don&rsquo;t like it, and
+tried to persuade her not to and couldn&rsquo;t; and when he <i>ordered</i>
+her, she was that outraged and indignant, and was very severe on him,
+and accused him of insubordination, and said it didn&rsquo;t become
+him to give orders to an officer of her rank.&nbsp; Well, he saw he
+had excited her more and done more harm than all the rest put together,
+so he was vexed at himself and wished he had kept still.&nbsp; Doctors
+<i>don&rsquo;t</i> know much, and that&rsquo;s a fact.&nbsp; She&rsquo;s
+too much interested in things&mdash;she ought to rest more.&nbsp; She&rsquo;s
+all the time sending messages to BB, and to soldiers and Injuns and
+whatnot, and to the animals.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To the animals?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who carries them?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sometimes Potter, but mostly it&rsquo;s Shekels.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now come! who can find fault with such pretty make-believe
+as that?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But it ain&rsquo;t make-believe, Marse Tom.&nbsp; She does
+send them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I don&rsquo;t doubt that part of it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you doubt they get them, sir?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly.&nbsp; Don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, sir.&nbsp; Animals talk to one another.&nbsp; I know it
+perfectly well, Marse Tom, and I ain&rsquo;t saying it by guess.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What a curious superstition!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It ain&rsquo;t a superstition, Marse Tom.&nbsp; Look at that
+Shekels&mdash;look at him, <i>now</i>.&nbsp; Is he listening, or ain&rsquo;t
+he?&nbsp; <i>Now</i> you see! he&rsquo;s turned his head away.&nbsp;
+It&rsquo;s because he was caught&mdash;caught in the act.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll
+ask you&mdash;could a Christian look any more ashamed than what he looks
+now?&mdash;<i>lay down</i>!&nbsp; You see? he was going to sneak out.&nbsp;
+Don&rsquo;t tell <i>me</i>, Marse Tom!&nbsp; If animals don&rsquo;t
+talk, I miss <i>my</i> guess.&nbsp; And Shekels is the worst.&nbsp;
+He goes and tells the animals everything that happens in the officers&rsquo;
+quarters; and if he&rsquo;s short of facts, he invents them.&nbsp; He
+hasn&rsquo;t any more principle than a blue jay; and as for morals,
+he&rsquo;s empty.&nbsp; Look at him now; look at him grovel.&nbsp; He
+knows what I am saying, and he knows it&rsquo;s the truth.&nbsp; You
+see, yourself, that he can feel shame; it&rsquo;s the only virtue he&rsquo;s
+got.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s wonderful how they find out everything that&rsquo;s
+going on&mdash;the animals.&nbsp; They&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you really believe they do, Dorcas?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t only just believe it, Marse Tom, I know it.&nbsp;
+Day before yesterday they knew something was going to happen.&nbsp;
+They were that excited, and whispering around together; why, anybody
+could see that they&mdash; But my! I must get back to her, and I haven&rsquo;t
+got to my errand yet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What is it, Dorcas?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it&rsquo;s two or three things.&nbsp; One is, the doctor
+don&rsquo;t salute when he comes . . . Now, Marse Tom, it ain&rsquo;t
+anything to laugh at, and so&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, forgive me; I didn&rsquo;t mean to laugh&mdash;I
+got caught unprepared.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You see, she don&rsquo;t want to hurt the doctor&rsquo;s feelings,
+so she don&rsquo;t say anything to him about it; but she is always polite,
+herself, and it hurts that kind for people to be rude to them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have that doctor hanged.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Marse Tom, she don&rsquo;t <i>want</i> him hanged.&nbsp; She&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, I&rsquo;ll have him boiled in oil.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But she don&rsquo;t <i>want</i> him boiled.&nbsp; I&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, very well, very well, I only want to please her; I&rsquo;ll
+have him skinned.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, <i>she</i> don&rsquo;t want him skinned; it would break
+her heart.&nbsp; Now&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Woman, this is perfectly unreasonable.&nbsp; What in the nation
+<i>does</i> she want?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Marse Tom, if you would only be a little patient, and not
+fly off the handle at the least little thing.&nbsp; Why, she only wants
+you to speak to him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Speak to him!&nbsp; Well, upon my word!&nbsp; All this unseemly
+rage and row about such a&mdash;a&mdash; Dorcas, I never saw you carry
+on like this before.&nbsp; You have alarmed the sentry; he thinks I
+am being assassinated; he thinks there&rsquo;s a mutiny, a revolt, an
+insurrection; he&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Marse Tom, you are just putting on; you know it perfectly
+well; I don&rsquo;t know what makes you act like that&mdash;but you
+always did, even when you was little, and you can&rsquo;t get over it,
+I reckon.&nbsp; Are you over it now, Marse Tom?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, well, yes; but it would try anybody to be doing the best
+he could, offering every kindness he could think of, only to have it
+rejected with contumely and . . . Oh, well, let it go; it&rsquo;s no
+matter&mdash;I&rsquo;ll talk to the doctor.&nbsp; Is that satisfactory,
+or are you going to break out again?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir, it is; and it&rsquo;s only right to talk to him,
+too, because it&rsquo;s just as she says; she&rsquo;s trying to keep
+up discipline in the Rangers, and this insubordination of his is a bad
+example for them&mdash;now ain&rsquo;t it so, Marse Tom?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, there <i>is</i> reason in it, I can&rsquo;t deny it;
+so I will speak to him, though at bottom I think hanging would be more
+lasting.&nbsp; What is the rest of your errand, Dorcas?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course her room is Ranger headquarters now, Marse Tom,
+while she&rsquo;s sick.&nbsp; Well, soldiers of the cavalry and the
+dragoons that are off duty come and get her sentries to let them relieve
+them and serve in their place.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s only out of affection,
+sir, and because they know military honors please her, and please the
+children too, for her sake; and they don&rsquo;t bring their muskets;
+and so&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve noticed them there, but didn&rsquo;t twig the idea.&nbsp;
+They are standing guard, are they?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir, and she is afraid you will reprove them and hurt
+their feelings, if you see them there; so she begs, if&mdash;if you
+don&rsquo;t mind coming in the back way&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bear me up, Dorcas; don&rsquo;t let me faint.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&mdash;sit up and behave, Marse Tom.&nbsp; You are not
+going to faint; you are only pretending&mdash;you used to act just so
+when you was little; it does seem a long time for you to get grown up.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Dorcas, the way the child is progressing, I shall be out of
+my job before long&mdash;she&rsquo;ll have the whole post in her hands.&nbsp;
+I must make a stand, I must not go down without a struggle.&nbsp; These
+encroachments. . . . Dorcas, what do you think she will think of next?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Marse Tom, she don&rsquo;t mean any harm.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Are you sure of it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Marse Tom.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You feel sure she has no ulterior designs?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what that is, Marse Tom, but I know she
+hasn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Very well, then, for the present I am satisfied.&nbsp; What
+else have you come about?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I reckon I better tell you the whole thing first, Marse Tom,
+then tell you what she wants.&nbsp; There&rsquo;s been an emeute, as
+she calls it.&nbsp; It was before she got back with BB.&nbsp; The officer
+of the day reported it to her this morning.&nbsp; It happened at her
+fort.&nbsp; There was a fuss betwixt Major-General Tommy Drake and Lieutenant-Colonel
+Agnes Frisbie, and he snatched her doll away, which is made of white
+kid stuffed with sawdust, and tore every rag of its clothes off, right
+before them all, and is under arrest, and the charge is conduct un&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I know&mdash;conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman&mdash;a
+plain case, too, it seems to me.&nbsp; This is a serious matter.&nbsp;
+Well, what is her pleasure?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Marse Tom, she has summoned a court-martial, but the
+doctor don&rsquo;t think she is well enough to preside over it, and
+she says there ain&rsquo;t anybody competent but her, because there&rsquo;s
+a major-general concerned; and so she&mdash;she&mdash;well, she says,
+would you preside over it for her? . . . Marse Tom, <i>sit</i> up!&nbsp;
+You ain&rsquo;t any more going to faint than Shekels is.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look here, Dorcas, go along back, and be tactful.&nbsp; Be
+persuasive; don&rsquo;t fret her; tell her it&rsquo;s all right, the
+matter is in my hands, but it isn&rsquo;t good form to hurry so grave
+a matter as this.&nbsp; Explain to her that we have to go by precedents,
+and that I believe this one to be new.&nbsp; In fact, you can say I
+know that nothing just like it has happened in our army, therefore I
+must be guided by European precedents, and must go cautiously and examine
+them carefully.&nbsp; Tell her not to be impatient, it will take me
+several days, but it will all come out right, and I will come over and
+report progress as I go along.&nbsp; Do you get the idea, Dorcas?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know as I do, sir.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it&rsquo;s this.&nbsp; You see, it won&rsquo;t ever
+do for me, a brigadier in the regular army, to preside over that infant
+court-martial&mdash;there isn&rsquo;t any precedent for it, don&rsquo;t
+you see.&nbsp; Very well.&nbsp; I will go on examining authorities and
+reporting progress until she is well enough to get me out of this scrape
+by presiding herself.&nbsp; Do you get it now?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes, sir, I get it, and it&rsquo;s good, I&rsquo;ll go
+and fix it with her.&nbsp; <i>Lay down</i>! and stay where you are.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, what harm is he doing?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it ain&rsquo;t any harm, but it just vexes me to see him
+act so.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What was he doing?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can&rsquo;t you see, and him in such a sweat?&nbsp; He was
+starting out to spread it all over the post.&nbsp; <i>Now</i> I reckon
+you won&rsquo;t deny, any more, that they go and tell everything they
+hear, now that you&rsquo;ve seen it with yo&rsquo; own eyes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I don&rsquo;t like to acknowledge it, Dorcas, but I
+don&rsquo;t see how I can consistently stick to my doubts in the face
+of such overwhelming proof as this dog is furnishing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There, now, you&rsquo;ve got in yo&rsquo; right mind at last!&nbsp;
+I wonder you can be so stubborn, Marse Tom.&nbsp; But you always was,
+even when you was little.&nbsp; I&rsquo;m going now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look here; tell her that in view of the delay, it is my judgment
+that she ought to enlarge the accused on his parole.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, sir, I&rsquo;ll tell her.&nbsp; Marse Tom?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She can&rsquo;t get to Soldier Boy, and he stands there all
+the time, down in the mouth and lonesome; and she says will you shake
+hands with him and comfort him?&nbsp; Everybody does.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a curious kind of lonesomeness; but, all right,
+I will.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>CHAPTER XI&mdash;SEVERAL MONTHS LATER.&nbsp; ANTONIO AND THORNDIKE</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Thorndike, isn&rsquo;t that Plug you&rsquo;re riding an assert
+of the scrap you and Buffalo Bill had with the late Blake Haskins and
+his pal a few months back?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, this is Mongrel&mdash;and not a half-bad horse, either.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve noticed he keeps up his lick first-rate.&nbsp;
+Say&mdash;isn&rsquo;t it a gaudy morning?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Right you are!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thorndike, it&rsquo;s Andalusian! and when that&rsquo;s said,
+all&rsquo;s said.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Andalusian <i>and</i> Oregonian, Antonio!&nbsp; Put it that
+way, and you have my vote.&nbsp; Being a native up there, I know.&nbsp;
+You being Andalusian-born&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Can speak with authority for that patch of paradise?&nbsp;
+Well, I can.&nbsp; Like the Don! like Sancho!&nbsp; This is the correct
+Andalusian dawn now&mdash;crisp, fresh, dewy, fragrant, pungent&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;What though the spicy breezes<br />Blow soft o&rsquo;er
+Ceylon&rsquo;s isle&mdash;&rsquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p><i>&mdash;git</i> up, you old cow! stumbling like that when we&rsquo;ve
+just been praising you! out on a scout and can&rsquo;t live up to the
+honor any better than that?&nbsp; Antonio, how long have you been out
+here in the Plains and the Rockies?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;More than thirteen years.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a long time.&nbsp; Don&rsquo;t you ever get homesick?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not till now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why <i>now</i>?&mdash;after such a long cure.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;These preparations of the retiring commandant&rsquo;s have
+started it up.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s natural.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It keeps me thinking about Spain.&nbsp; I know the region
+where the Seventh&rsquo;s child&rsquo;s aunt lives; I know all the lovely
+country for miles around; I&rsquo;ll bet I&rsquo;ve seen her aunt&rsquo;s
+villa many a time; I&rsquo;ll bet I&rsquo;ve been in it in those pleasant
+old times when I was a Spanish gentleman.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They say the child is wild to see Spain.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s so; I know it from what I hear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Haven&rsquo;t you talked with her about it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ve avoided it.&nbsp; I should soon be as
+wild as she is.&nbsp; That would not be comfortable.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wish I was going, Antonio.&nbsp; There&rsquo;s two things
+I&rsquo;d give a lot to see.&nbsp; One&rsquo;s a railroad.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She&rsquo;ll see one when she strikes Missouri.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The other&rsquo;s a bull-fight.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve seen lots of them; I wish I could see another.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know anything about it, except in a mixed-up,
+foggy way, Antonio, but I know enough to know it&rsquo;s grand sport.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The grandest in the world!&nbsp; There&rsquo;s no other sport
+that begins with it.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll tell you what I&rsquo;ve seen,
+then you can judge.&nbsp; It was my first, and it&rsquo;s as vivid to
+me now as it was when I saw it.&nbsp; It was a Sunday afternoon, and
+beautiful weather, and my uncle, the priest, took me as a reward for
+being a good boy and because of my own accord and without anybody asking
+me I had bankrupted my savings-box and given the money to a mission
+that was civilizing the Chinese and sweetening their lives and softening
+their hearts with the gentle teachings of our religion, and I wish you
+could have seen what we saw that day, Thorndike.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The amphitheatre was packed, from the bull-ring to the highest
+row&mdash;twelve thousand people in one circling mass, one slanting,
+solid mass&mdash;royalties, nobles, clergy, ladies, gentlemen, state
+officials, generals, admirals, soldiers, sailors, lawyers, thieves,
+merchants, brokers, cooks, housemaids, scullery-maids, doubtful women,
+dudes, gamblers, beggars, loafers, tramps, American ladies, gentlemen,
+preachers, English ladies, gentlemen, preachers, German ditto, French
+ditto, and so on and so on, all the world represented: Spaniards to
+admire and praise, foreigners to enjoy and go home and find fault&mdash;there
+they were, one solid, sloping, circling sweep of rippling and flashing
+color under the downpour of the summer sun&mdash;just a garden, a gaudy,
+gorgeous flower-garden!&nbsp; Children munching oranges, six thousand
+fans fluttering and glimmering, everybody happy, everybody chatting
+gayly with their intimates, lovely girl-faces smiling recognition and
+salutation to other lovely girl-faces, gray old ladies and gentlemen
+dealing in the like exchanges with each other&mdash;ah, such a picture
+of cheery contentment and glad anticipation! not a mean spirit, nor
+a sordid soul, nor a sad heart there&mdash;ah, Thorndike, I wish I could
+see it again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Suddenly, the martial note of a bugle cleaves the hum and
+murmur&mdash;clear the ring!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They clear it.&nbsp; The great gate is flung open, and the
+procession marches in, splendidly costumed and glittering: the marshals
+of the day, then the picadores on horseback, then the matadores on foot,
+each surrounded by his quadrille of <i>chulos</i>.&nbsp; They march
+to the box of the city fathers, and formally salute.&nbsp; The key is
+thrown, the bull-gate is unlocked.&nbsp; Another bugle blast&mdash;the
+gate flies open, the bull plunges in, furious, trembling, blinking in
+the blinding light, and stands there, a magnificent creature, centre
+of those multitudinous and admiring eyes, brave, ready for battle, his
+attitude a challenge.&nbsp; He sees his enemy: horsemen sitting motionless,
+with long spears in rest, upon blindfolded broken-down nags, lean and
+starved, fit only for sport and sacrifice, then the carrion-heap.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The bull makes a rush, with murder in his eye, but a picador
+meets him with a spear-thrust in the shoulder.&nbsp; He flinches with
+the pain, and the picador skips out of danger.&nbsp; A burst of applause
+for the picador, hisses for the bull.&nbsp; Some shout &lsquo;Cow!&rsquo;
+at the bull, and call him offensive names.&nbsp; But he is not listening
+to them, he is there for business; he is not minding the cloak-bearers
+that come fluttering around to confuse him; he chases this way, he chases
+that way, and hither and yon, scattering the nimble banderillos in every
+direction like a spray, and receiving their maddening darts in his neck
+as they dodge and fly&mdash;oh, but it&rsquo;s a lively spectacle, and
+brings down the house!&nbsp; Ah, you should hear the thundering roar
+that goes up when the game is at its wildest and brilliant things are
+done!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, that first bull, that day, was great!&nbsp; From the moment
+the spirit of war rose to flood-tide in him and he got down to his work,
+he began to do wonders.&nbsp; He tore his way through his persecutors,
+flinging one of them clear over the parapet; he bowled a horse and his
+rider down, and plunged straight for the next, got home with his horns,
+wounding both horse and man; on again, here and there and this way and
+that; and one after another he tore the bowels out of two horses so
+that they gushed to the ground, and ripped a third one so badly that
+although they rushed him to cover and shoved his bowels back and stuffed
+the rents with tow and rode him against the bull again, he couldn&rsquo;t
+make the trip; he tried to gallop, under the spur, but soon reeled and
+tottered and fell, all in a heap.&nbsp; For a while, that bull-ring
+was the most thrilling and glorious and inspiring sight that ever was
+seen.&nbsp; The bull absolutely cleared it, and stood there alone! monarch
+of the place.&nbsp; The people went mad for pride in him, and joy and
+delight, and you couldn&rsquo;t hear yourself think, for the roar and
+boom and crash of applause.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Antonio, it carries me clear out of myself just to hear you
+tell it; it must have been perfectly splendid.&nbsp; If I live, I&rsquo;ll
+see a bull-fight yet before I die.&nbsp; Did they kill him?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh yes; that is what the bull is for.&nbsp; They tired him
+out, and got him at last.&nbsp; He kept rushing the matador, who always
+slipped smartly and gracefully aside in time, waiting for a sure chance;
+and at last it came; the bull made a deadly plunge for him&mdash;was
+avoided neatly, and as he sped by, the long sword glided silently into
+him, between left shoulder and spine&mdash;in and in, to the hilt.&nbsp;
+He crumpled down, dying.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, Antonio, it <i>is</i> the noblest sport that ever was.&nbsp;
+I would give a year of my life to see it.&nbsp; Is the bull always killed?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&nbsp; Sometimes a bull is timid, finding himself in so
+strange a place, and he stands trembling, or tries to retreat.&nbsp;
+Then everybody despises him for his cowardice and wants him punished
+and made ridiculous; so they hough him from behind, and it is the funniest
+thing in the world to see him hobbling around on his severed legs; the
+whole vast house goes into hurricanes of laughter over it; I have laughed
+till the tears ran down my cheeks to see it.&nbsp; When he has furnished
+all the sport he can, he is not any longer useful, and is killed.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, it is perfectly grand, Antonio, perfectly beautiful.&nbsp;
+Burning a nigger don&rsquo;t begin.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>CHAPTER XII&mdash;MONGREL AND THE OTHER HORSE</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Sage-Brush, you have been listening?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it strange?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, no, Mongrel, I don&rsquo;t know that it is.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve seen a good many human beings in my time.&nbsp;
+They are created as they are; they cannot help it.&nbsp; They are only
+brutal because that is their make; brutes would be brutal if it was
+<i>their</i> make.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To me, Sage-Brush, man is most strange and unaccountable.&nbsp;
+Why should he treat dumb animals that way when they are not doing any
+harm?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Man is not always like that, Mongrel; he is kind enough when
+he is not excited by religion.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Is the bull-fight a religious service?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think so.&nbsp; I have heard so.&nbsp; It is held on Sunday.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>(<i>A reflective pause, lasting some moments</i>.)&nbsp; Then:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When we die, Sage-Brush, do we go to heaven and dwell with
+man?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;My father thought not.&nbsp; He believed we do not have to
+go there unless we deserve it.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>PART II&mdash;IN SPAIN</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>CHAPTER XIII&mdash;GENERAL ALISON TO HIS MOTHER</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>It was a prodigious trip, but delightful, of course, through the
+Rockies and the Black Hills and the mighty sweep of the Great Plains
+to civilization and the Missouri border&mdash;where the railroading
+began and the delightfulness ended.&nbsp; But no one is the worse for
+the journey; certainly not Cathy, nor Dorcas, nor Soldier Boy; and as
+for me, I am not complaining.</p>
+<p>Spain is all that Cathy had pictured it&mdash;and more, she says.&nbsp;
+She is in a fury of delight, the maddest little animal that ever was,
+and all for joy.&nbsp; She thinks she remembers Spain, but that is not
+very likely, I suppose.&nbsp; The two&mdash;Mercedes and Cathy&mdash;devour
+each other.&nbsp; It is a rapture of love, and beautiful to see.&nbsp;
+It is Spanish; that describes it.&nbsp; Will this be a short visit?</p>
+<p>No.&nbsp; It will be permanent.&nbsp; Cathy has elected to abide
+with Spain and her aunt.&nbsp; Dorcas says she (Dorcas) foresaw that
+this would happen; and also says that she wanted it to happen, and says
+the child&rsquo;s own country is the right place for her, and that she
+ought not to have been sent to me, I ought to have gone to her.&nbsp;
+I thought it insane to take Soldier Boy to Spain, but it was well that
+I yielded to Cathy&rsquo;s pleadings; if he had been left behind, half
+of her heart would have remained with him, and she would not have been
+contented.&nbsp; As it is, everything has fallen out for the best, and
+we are all satisfied and comfortable.&nbsp; It may be that Dorcas and
+I will see America again some day; but also it is a case of maybe not.</p>
+<p>We left the post in the early morning.&nbsp; It was an affecting
+time.&nbsp; The women cried over Cathy, so did even those stern warriors,
+the Rocky Mountain Rangers; Shekels was there, and the Cid, and Sardanapalus,
+and Potter, and Mongrel, and Sour-Mash, Famine, and Pestilence, and
+Cathy kissed them all and wept; details of the several arms of the garrison
+were present to represent the rest, and say good-bye and God bless you
+for all the soldiery; and there was a special squad from the Seventh,
+with the oldest veteran at its head, to speed the Seventh&rsquo;s Child
+with grand honors and impressive ceremonies; and the veteran had a touching
+speech by heart, and put up his hand in salute and tried to say it,
+but his lips trembled and his voice broke, but Cathy bent down from
+the saddle and kissed him on the mouth and turned his defeat to victory,
+and a cheer went up.</p>
+<p>The next act closed the ceremonies, and was a moving surprise.&nbsp;
+It may be that you have discovered, before this, that the rigors of
+military law and custom melt insensibly away and disappear when a soldier
+or a regiment or the garrison wants to do something that will please
+Cathy.&nbsp; The bands conceived the idea of stirring her soldierly
+heart with a farewell which would remain in her memory always, beautiful
+and unfading, and bring back the past and its love for her whenever
+she should think of it; so they got their project placed before General
+Burnaby, my successor, who is Cathy&rsquo;s newest slave, and in spite
+of poverty of precedents they got his permission.&nbsp; The bands knew
+the child&rsquo;s favorite military airs.&nbsp; By this hint you know
+what is coming, but Cathy didn&rsquo;t.&nbsp; She was asked to sound
+the &ldquo;reveille,&rdquo; which she did.</p>
+<p>[REVEILLE]</p>
+<p>With the last note the bands burst out with a crash: and woke the
+mountains with the &ldquo;Star-Spangled Banner&rdquo; in a way to make
+a body&rsquo;s heart swell and thump and his hair rise!&nbsp; It was
+enough to break a person all up, to see Cathy&rsquo;s radiant face shining
+out through her gladness and tears.&nbsp; By request she blew the &ldquo;assembly,&rdquo;
+now. . . .</p>
+<p>[THE ASSEMBLY]</p>
+<p>. . . Then the bands thundered in, with &ldquo;Rally round the flag,
+boys, rally once again!&rdquo;&nbsp; Next, she blew another call (&ldquo;to
+the Standard&rdquo;) . . .</p>
+<p>[TO THE STANDARD]</p>
+<p>. . . and the bands responded with &ldquo;When we were marching through
+Georgia.&rdquo;&nbsp; Straightway she sounded &ldquo;boots and saddles,&rdquo;
+that thrilling and most expediting call. . . .</p>
+<p>[BOOTS AND SADDLES]</p>
+<p>and the bands could hardly hold in for the final note; then they
+turned their whole strength loose on &ldquo;Tramp, tramp, tramp, the
+boys are marching,&rdquo; and everybody&rsquo;s excitement rose to blood-heat.</p>
+<p>Now an impressive pause&mdash;then the bugle sang &ldquo;TAPS&rdquo;&mdash;translatable,
+this time, into &ldquo;Good-bye, and God keep us all!&rdquo; for taps
+is the soldier&rsquo;s nightly release from duty, and farewell: plaintive,
+sweet, pathetic, for the morning is never sure, for him; always it is
+possible that he is hearing it for the last time. . . .</p>
+<p>[TAPS]</p>
+<p>. . . Then the bands turned their instruments towards Cathy and burst
+in with that rollicking frenzy of a tune, &ldquo;Oh, we&rsquo;ll all
+get blind drunk when Johnny comes marching home&mdash;yes, we&rsquo;ll
+all get blind drunk when Johnny comes marching home!&rdquo; and followed
+it instantly with &ldquo;Dixie,&rdquo; that antidote for melancholy,
+merriest and gladdest of all military music on any side of the ocean&mdash;and
+that was the end.&nbsp; And so&mdash;farewell!</p>
+<p>I wish you could have been there to see it all, hear it all, and
+feel it: and get yourself blown away with the hurricane huzza that swept
+the place as a finish.</p>
+<p>When we rode away, our main body had already been on the road an
+hour or two&mdash;I speak of our camp equipage; but we didn&rsquo;t
+move off alone: when Cathy blew the &ldquo;advance&rdquo; the Rangers
+cantered out in column of fours, and gave us escort, and were joined
+by White Cloud and Thunder-Bird in all their gaudy bravery, and by Buffalo
+Bill and four subordinate scouts.&nbsp; Three miles away, in the Plains,
+the Lieutenant-General halted, sat her horse like a military statue,
+the bugle at her lips, and put the Rangers through the evolutions for
+half an hour; and finally, when she blew the &ldquo;charge,&rdquo; she
+led it herself.&nbsp; &ldquo;Not for the last time,&rdquo; she said,
+and got a cheer, and we said good-bye all around, and faced eastward
+and rode away.</p>
+<p><i>Postscript.&nbsp; A Day Later</i>.&nbsp; Soldier Boy was stolen
+last night.&nbsp; Cathy is almost beside herself, and we cannot comfort
+her.&nbsp; Mercedes and I are not much alarmed about the horse, although
+this part of Spain is in something of a turmoil, politically, at present,
+and there is a good deal of lawlessness.&nbsp; In ordinary times the
+thief and the horse would soon be captured.&nbsp; We shall have them
+before long, I think.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>CHAPTER XIV&mdash;SOLDIER BOY&mdash;TO HIMSELF</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>It is five months.&nbsp; Or is it six?&nbsp; My troubles have clouded
+my memory.&nbsp; I have been all over this land, from end to end, and
+now I am back again since day before yesterday, to that city which we
+passed through, that last day of our long journey, and which is near
+her country home.&nbsp; I am a tottering ruin and my eyes are dim, but
+I recognized it.&nbsp; If she could see me she would know me and sound
+my call.&nbsp; I wish I could hear it once more; it would revive me,
+it would bring back her face and the mountains and the free life, and
+I would come&mdash;if I were dying I would come!&nbsp; She would not
+know <i>me</i>, looking as I do, but she would know me by my star.&nbsp;
+But she will never see me, for they do not let me out of this shabby
+stable&mdash;a foul and miserable place, with most two wrecks like myself
+for company.</p>
+<p>How many times have I changed hands?&nbsp; I think it is twelve times&mdash;I
+cannot remember; and each time it was down a step lower, and each time
+I got a harder master.&nbsp; They have been cruel, every one; they have
+worked me night and day in degraded employments, and beaten me; they
+have fed me ill, and some days not at all.&nbsp; And so I am but bones,
+now, with a rough and frowsy skin humped and cornered upon my shrunken
+body&mdash;that skin which was once so glossy, that skin which she loved
+to stroke with her hand.&nbsp; I was the pride of the mountains and
+the Great Plains; now I am a scarecrow and despised.&nbsp; These piteous
+wrecks that are my comrades here say we have reached the bottom of the
+scale, the final humiliation; they say that when a horse is no longer
+worth the weeds and discarded rubbish they feed to him, they sell him
+to the bull-ring for a glass of brandy, to make sport for the people
+and perish for their pleasure.</p>
+<p>To die&mdash;that does not disturb me; we of the service never care
+for death.&nbsp; But if I could see her once more! if I could hear her
+bugle sing again and say, &ldquo;It is I, Soldier&mdash;come!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h3>CHAPTER XV&mdash;GENERAL ALISON TO MRS. DRAKE, THE COLONEL&rsquo;S
+WIFE</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>To return, now, to where I was, and tell you the rest.&nbsp; We shall
+never know how she came to be there; there is no way to account for
+it.&nbsp; She was always watching for black and shiny and spirited horses&mdash;watching,
+hoping, despairing, hoping again; always giving chase and sounding her
+call, upon the meagrest chance of a response, and breaking her heart
+over the disappointment; always inquiring, always interested in sales-stables
+and horse accumulations in general.&nbsp; How she got there must remain
+a mystery.</p>
+<p>At the point which I had reached in a preceding paragraph of this
+account, the situation was as follows: two horses lay dying; the bull
+had scattered his persecutors for the moment, and stood raging, panting,
+pawing the dust in clouds over his back, when the man that had been
+wounded returned to the ring on a remount, a poor blindfolded wreck
+that yet had something ironically military about his bearing&mdash;and
+the next moment the bull had ripped him open and his bowls were dragging
+upon the ground: and the bull was charging his swarm of pests again.&nbsp;
+Then came pealing through the air a bugle-call that froze my blood&mdash;&ldquo;<i>It
+is I, Soldier&mdash;come</i>!&rdquo;&nbsp; I turned; Cathy was flying
+down through the massed people; she cleared the parapet at a bound,
+and sped towards that riderless horse, who staggered forward towards
+the remembered sound; but his strength failed, and he fell at her feet,
+she lavishing kisses upon him and sobbing, the house rising with one
+impulse, and white with horror!&nbsp; Before help could reach her the
+bull was back again&mdash;</p>
+<p>She was never conscious again in life.&nbsp; We bore her home, all
+mangled and drenched in blood, and knelt by her and listened to her
+broken and wandering words, and prayed for her passing spirit, and there
+was no comfort&mdash;nor ever will be, I think.&nbsp; But she was happy,
+for she was far away under another sky, and comrading again with her
+Rangers, and her animal friends, and the soldiers.&nbsp; Their names
+fell softly and caressingly from her lips, one by one, with pauses between.&nbsp;
+She was not in pain, but lay with closed eyes, vacantly murmuring, as
+one who dreams.&nbsp; Sometimes she smiled, saying nothing; sometimes
+she smiled when she uttered a name&mdash;such as Shekels, or BB, or
+Potter.&nbsp; Sometimes she was at her fort, issuing commands; sometimes
+she was careering over the plain at the head of her men; sometimes she
+was training her horse; once she said, reprovingly, &ldquo;You are giving
+me the wrong foot; give me the left&mdash;don&rsquo;t you know it is
+good-bye?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>After this, she lay silent some time; the end was near.&nbsp; By-and-by
+she murmured, &ldquo;Tired . . . sleepy . . . take Cathy, mamma.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Then, &ldquo;Kiss me, Soldier.&rdquo;&nbsp; For a little time, she lay
+so still that we were doubtful if she breathed.&nbsp; Then she put out
+her hand and began to feel gropingly about; then said, &ldquo;I cannot
+find it; blow &lsquo;taps.&rsquo;&rdquo;&nbsp; It was the end.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<p>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, A HORSE'S TALE ***</p>
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