Adventure Magazine Cover — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

14 officers, but the Yank had a full set of teeth, a thing not common in the British rank and file. The three continued to wash. ‘“‘—— this mist,” exclaimed the brigadier. “We can’t march in this soup. We ought to be well away from here by four-thirty!”’ “T sha’n’t be surprized if it clears before then,” said the major. “It’s going to be another scorcher today. I shall be glad when this everlasting marching is done with.” “So shall I,” said the brigadier. He buried his face in the towel and at that moment the Yank gathered his own clothing in one sweep and departed. The fog closed behind him like a thick curtain. Back to his shed he hurried, seized his kit, and then to the picket-line, where for the next half-hour he busied himself in shaking down hay, feeding oats, watering, groom- ing and saddling up. He hurried as fast as he could, for there would be little time for breakfast. The fog still held, although it was getting thinner as the daylight increased. A hur- ried breakfast, and back to the line again. The town hummed like a top now. Men shouted, horses squealed, the guns to the south banged and clattered as they were drawn out of park and hitched in The Yank himself felt cheery and began to sing a song that he liked quite well: “Oh, oh, that camp-meetin’ band, “Let me tell you, sister, it’s the best in the land!” He adjusted his girth, shoved two fingers under the curb-chain, tugged ten- tatively at his sword and gave his blanket roll a settling pound with his fist. All seemed secure. He swung himself into the saddle, rose once or twice in the stirrups, then drew his word and dismounted. “This sword,” he thought, “ought to have a little cleaning. I don’t want to give any one lockjaw by sticking a rusty sword in them.” There were spots of rust on the blade and he began to rub at them with a hand- ful of earth. A commotion in the fog made him pause in his labor. “Hye says as ’ow that ’orse wasn’t properly tied up!” “Hye says as ’ow ’e never was on this picket-line!”’ “Don’t give me no imperence! ’Asn’t ’e ’is troop number on ’is ’oof? Where would ’e be picketed?” Adventure THE Yank tucked his sword under his arm and went toward the voices. There was a small group clustered about a tall bay, examining him with in- terest. In the center of the group a troop sergeant-major held the horse, while another N. C. O. expostulated. “Is saddle is all knocked abort,” said one of the bystanders, removing his pipe and lifting one of the skircs. “’E’s been an’ rolled in it proper.” All inspected the saddle. It was scarred and chipped, and the caatle, that rose from the saddle like the high stern of an ancient galley, had been badly broken. “Summun will be payin’ for that,” spoke another soldier. “Well, ’oos ’orse is it?” cried the sergeant major. ‘You knows that much, don’t you?” “T ’aven’t my book about me,” said the other sergeant. ‘Wot matter does it make anyways?” The sergeant-major choked and was about to erupt like a volcano. “I know whose horse that is,’’ spoke up the Yank. ‘‘That’s Neddy Clyne’s horse.” “Im as the youlans scragged?” ex- claimed the men. “By —— the Yank’s right, so it is! I’d know that step-ladder beast if I seen ’im in a thousand!” cried another. At this moment the captain appeared. *What’s this about?” he demanded. The sergeant-major explained. “T finds this ’orse a-runnin’ about loose, sir, and I was askin’ the farrier sergeant wot ’e means by allowin’ his ’orses to be let run loose an’ not unsaddled all night.” “How about it?” asked the officer. “Why, this ’orse wasn’t tied up at all, sir, I knowed very well. It belonged to Trooper Clyne, sir, as was lost yesterday. "E was on patrol with Collins ’ere,”’ indi- cating the Yank. : The officer stepped nearer and examined the horse suspiciously. It was easily seen that the beast had not been unsaddled, nor had he had any care for some time. Dust lay thick on his flank and his hoofs were quite white with it. More men began to cluster around until there was quite a crowd there. 7 “Wow far away was it that you en- coultered the enemy?” asked the officer. ‘“‘About fourteen kilos, sir,’’ answered the Yank, “‘Most ’straw’nary!’’ muttered the officer. Go DOOK 1@)