Adventure Magazine Cover — page 42: what you’re looking at

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

32 ex, THE troop, returning from the pur- IY a) suit, which they had carried to the very doors of Le Plessis Chatelaine, halted at their captain’s signal The captain lcaned upon his horse’s neck and _ placed his monocle. “My word,” said he, ‘what have we heah?”’ Before him stood two men, one wearing the badly scorched uniform of a British trooper, and the other that of a German hussar officer. The trooper had but one puttee, and the German had his hands bound tightly behind his back, probably with the missing puttee. The trooper saluted. “Sir, I have the honor to report that I have a prisoner.” “Fawncy that now,” ejaculated the officer. ‘‘Really! I imagined you were dis- cussing the action together. Two horses here!’’ Two horses were brought up, for the troop had had rich picking at Le Plessis, a dressing station with its personnel, twenty- five led horses and a case of champagne. The Yank and his prisoner were mounted. ‘“‘Are you the man that Sir Galahaded out ahead so boldly?” the captain asked the Yank. “Yessir.” “Fawncy that. Marvel you weren’t spitted, what? Fuzzy boy with a sword, wasn’t he? How did you disarm him?” “TI rapped him on the beezer,” said the Yank soberly. “What? Ehe Rapped him on the beezer? Fawncy that!” The captain dropped his glass, replaced it and gave the order to move out. The troop spurred forward, and followed the retiring squadron at a brisk trot. The action had apparently ceased. There was no cotton-tufted shrapnel in the sky, the mist had gone, and the sun was mus- tering his strength to make another oven- like day. It seemed to the Yank that the fight had lasted for hours, but the position of the sun showed that the hour was not much after nine. “Another day, another fight, ” thought the Yank. ‘Well, this can’t last forever, we'll all kill each other off. I hope -we have cooler weather. It won’t be so bad this Fall, [but the war won’t last that long.” He looked happily at his prisoner, who Adventure sat his horse with a stony face, his hands still bound. 7 “T gathered him in, at least. And he was a hard nut, too. That ought to advance my prestige a little with these gallopers. I only wish there was some way I could let the old gang at home know about it.” When the squadron reached the field in which the wagon-park still smoldered, it halted and waited for the detached troop to come up. The major then made an ad- dress of which no one but the immediate hearers could catch a word, but which doubtless contained the words Glory, Honor, Glorious Tradition, etc. Then he directed all those men who be- longed to other units to rejoin them. Thus, presently, the Yank saw a troop detach itself, and go trotting away across the plain. This was the troop that had rescuedethe Yank from the’ fire. While the Yank marveled at this, and looked curiously at the wreck of the wagon- park, a rude sergeant appeared and told him to begone to his own lot. “Run along now, ’omeless,’” said he. ‘We'll mind our little playfellow for you. The major says you should all go ’ome, for we'll be marchin’ out of ’ere presently.” “Suits me,” said the Yank. Then he turned to his prisoner, riding sullenly between two troopers. “Now, then, tailor’s dummy,” said the Yank, “you see what you got yourself into. If you hadn’t left me to burn when you cracked me over the head, these men wouldn’t have, stopped to drag me out of the fire, and I wouldn’t have got into that scrap at all. And you, fine prancing Prus- sian that you are, would have been safe away, instead of a candidate for a good job building roads. So that’s what you get for doing a dirty stunt like that.” The German officer appeared utterly oblivious to what the Yank said. “You needn’t waste your breaf on ’im,” said one of the guards. “ ’E cawn’t speak a word of Hinglish.”’ “Yes, he can,” said the Yank. “TI know this boy very well. He knows what I said. Well, so long, Fritz. If I ever see you working on the roads I’ll give you a fag, and if you’re cold on the moors this Winter, think of all the heat you let me in for; after I dragged you out of there, too.” The officer paid no heed, and the Yank moved away, trotting over toward the Go NOOK 1@)