In Barracks and Wigwam — page 108: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

pie his hee oT vie was eae lad’s gos Spperiuaes of s ~ active service, and now that he found himself face-to face - 4 i with what he had ardently and hopelessly longed for, the. . lad felt a strange sense of elation and JOY. He was seigtle ¥ a proud of what he had already accomplished—though << _ modestly not rating it as high as it deserved—and he fan- 4 os - cied that another plucky feat might win for him the cov-- 7 _ eted grade of a non-commissioned officer. And that — ae “ would be the first step in the career he had vowed to a .e achieve. a a _ “Do you think we are going to have a scrimmage, sir?” an She asked, with ppaiegnised eagerness, of Corporal Otis. — “God forbid, lad,” was the reply. “But there’s no tell- — ag ve what may happen. If Harkness gets into a row with ; the Indians we're bound by our duty to rescue him, and ~~ ee in that case the bullets will fly. This is one of them ag- re - gravatin’ situations that crop out on the frontier from . a time to time.” t ie _ The corporal paused long enough to extract a plug of 3 oe os from his pocket and bite off a huge chunk. * er “If the Sioux can only kill the ruffian before he shoots “aa _any of them,” ,he added, “why, that will wind up the “8 serape to a finish, and in a way that will satisfy all hands. ee But it ain’t likely.” a . “Not a bit of it,” chimed in the trumpeter. “Harkness oe a fight to the death. If we only dared leave him to his 4 fate! But there’s the rub! It’s our duty to get hold of : him and turn him over to Uncle Sam for his deserts.” — 2 es Ae “Tf it comes to a scrimmage, I'll warrant you'll be cool ; Cerra * A oe os rod yy 7 tie | Phy Ne ie “e soy nat eo hes Mes Hom Raed ae ‘Sy 3 wt utd i! oy R . 3 : ay iw # = sce, Seat oe ane 4 as at ha so envious tone. “You've got the right stuff in you. I e i “never saw a neater thing than you did toate ye or ag K salt a ve P ade us: 2 : oe Tnanks?’ vee Linn, “Really, é: i don’t think - enough, Osborne,” said Private Reily, in a low and rather — e pckisr one.’ much os it, feo Tt was gregh syoush to cree S . i=