Adventure Magazine Cover, June 20, 1925 — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

A Sergeant of Cavalry 9 carry our ammunition? If the guys don’t lug it in their belts, it’s got to go on wagons, and we.ain’t. got too many wagons.” “Well, I wish t’ —— we wasn’t hikin’ to- night,’’ interjected another member o’ the squad. “I believe I’m comin’ down with my boils again. I got a regular peony right where it'll do the most harm. Ill have a interestin’ march, kid. Me for the ammuni- tion cart the minute it gets dark.” “You lemme catch you,’ said the corporal darkly. “Don’t worry,” responded the other, “vou won’t.”’ Then Bottle, who must be so called be- cause his name as shouted at retreat was Bartle, looked at Colburn. “T bet you’re glad we’re goin’ away from the front tonight anyway, even if we are hikin’ it.” “Well, I’m not,”’ said Nell, ‘‘not by a sight. I came up to see some horn tanglin’ with the Boche and I’d just as soon see a little before I go away. This war’s liable to be over any day.” After that there was a long moment of silence. Then the corporal, in view of his rank, spoke. ‘‘Man,”’ said he, “you won't never regret goin’ away from the front. We been in there monkeyin’ with them krauts for about a week and we’re fed up aplenty. You needn’t worry about the war bein’ over. It'll run for some time yet.. An’ a little of this fightin’ stuff does a man a long, long time, especially if he’s a mud thumper. There’s guys right in this squad—”’ here he looked hard at Bottle—‘“‘that if you was to yell ‘Boche’ at ’em good and loud right now, they'd jump clean out from under their wig.” “It ain’t so!” said Bottle, his face a deep red. “TI ain’t no more afraid of ’em than any one else. “‘They’re kiddin’ me,” said Bottle, turn- ing to Nell, “because when we was going through some woods some o’ the guys snarls up with a machine-gun and while they was all yellin’ an’ givin’ advice I stepped on a hornet’s nest. What the do they think, I’d stand there an’ get stung to death?” “T hollered ‘Boche,’ grinned the man called Spagett, ‘‘an’ Bottle give a jump that took him clear out of the advance zone.” “T didn’t run far,” said Bottle. “TI just run an’ jumped in that creek. Any o’ you guys would have if you’d stepped on that bees’ nest.” The men finished the meal hurriedly, for a few drops of rain had pattered down, and then hurried to the cow shed. ie “T don’t think we’ll start till dark,” said the corporal, ‘‘an’ it may let up before then.” ol The men sat in the hot interior of the shed, steaming, while the rain poured down outside. It came in sheets and the dark- ness with it. ‘Nother wet march,” growled the men. “Our nice new clothes, too. When those trucks get through splashin’ mud on us we'll look wors’n we did before.”’ ‘There’s the whistle,” cried the corporal suddenly. “Outside every one. Be sure you got your breech covers on good an’ tight.” ——wwe ‘l'HE march began in a hazy twi- ) @ light. It was Colburn’s first march on foot with a pack and after the first hundred yards he was sure he was not going to like it. In his pack were two blankets, emergency rations that had been issued at retreat, his mess-kit and toilet articles, a shelter half, poles and pins and an extra pair of shoes. He got rid of the shoes first, since they were on the outside and could be more easily discarded. The company followed the road for some distance and joined up with the other com- panies of the battalion. Then the column came out on a main road, for Nell could hear trucks rattling and the creak of axles mingling with the stamping of hoofs. A loud cry was heard at the head of the éol- umn and as it was passed back, Nell could distinguish what it was. ‘“Take hold of the man in front!” Nell reached out his hand and got hold of the straps of a man’s pack. At the same time a groping claw came over his shoulder and took him by the face. “Leggo!” cried Nell. “My mistake,” said the other man. “Who’s that?” “Colburn.” “Ym Goodrich,” said the other man. “My boil is near killin’ me. Man, ain’t it black!’ The column toiled along, stopping, start- ing and stopping again. At times there were loud rumbles and terrific crashes. COMmiclboookks.C©