Adventure Magazine Cover, June 20, 1925 — page 67: what you’re looking at

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

A Sergeant ; So throughout the night he led them and no one fell out, and no one tried to hop a ride on a truck, and when at the end of the march, Nell led his forty-eight into a barn and put them to sleep in the hay without waiting to get permission to do so, they profanely allowed that he was the best —— officer they had ever met in all their travels. Nell had marched in a daze all night. A commission for gallantry! That was quite a thing. He didn’t know yet how he liked it. It was like taking strange liquor; one had to wait until the kick came before giving a decision on it. “T ain’t half as thrilled as I ought to be,” decided Nell. He was still thinking about it as he made up his bed in a horse stall. He had ac- quired some blankets and an overcoat from a salvage pile and these were his coverings. There was a little window by the stall and Nell looked out of it for a minute. “Huh!” he grunted in surprize. _ There was a clattering of hoofs on a dis- tant road, and then the soft] thud, thud of them on grass. There was no moon, but the stars were out and Nell could see a thick clump of moving objects, too tall for in- fantry, and too close together for artillery, going across the field behind the barn. There was a succession of mournful crys and the mass halted. There was a rustle of movement, and then a confusion of soft sound. Men called to each other, com- mands rang out, there was the sound of hammering on wood. “Yessir,” cried Nell, “that’s an outfit of cavalry and they’re puttin’ up a picket line. Tl go look at ’em in the morning.” Bugles awakened Nell, but he found they were not the bugles of his regiment. The infantry were allowed to sleep late and it was scarcely daylight, the cool of a late- summer morning, with birds singing in the trees, old French women driving cows to pasture, and a bright blue sky overhead. Nell put on his shoes, anyway, for he wanted to see what outfit that cavalry be- longed to, and it would be an hour before his company would be turned out for rev- ‘eille. Down behind the barn he went. ‘There was cavalry and no mistake, with two long picket lines, the horses stamping and kicking, their tails waving, and the air full of -hay that was being tossed down for their breakfast. of Cavalry Ke The picket guard were putting on nose bags and the horses nickered eagerly, and squealed and bit at each other, in their im- patience. A man sang, heaving forkfuls of hay into the air: “Curry-comb and brush in the off-side pocket, On the nigh side picket pin an’ line. If your horse won’t go for the proddin’ of the spur, Then you'll have to mix him up some turpentine.” Nell choked. That song was one of his favorites. The smell of hay was in his nostrils and the smell of leather, and of horse, and of bacon frying, and no old cavalryman can stand the combination dry-eyed. ‘Hey, Jerry!’ called some one. “Them hard-tails 0’ yours been fed yet? Better get a move on.” Nell’s ears began to sing and his heart expanded so that it was difficult to breathe. He picked up a nose bag and examined it, though the picket guard eyed him suspi-— clously. On the bottom of it was stenciled a pair of crossed sabres, with the number 18 above, and the letter B below. Nell took a deep breath. This was his old regiment, and if this picket line was B troop’s, the next must be A, and that was Sergeant Olsen calling to Jerry Daffinee, the wagon driver. Nell would have known his voice had he heard it among those of the entire regiment. : He went between two horses—old friends, too, “68” and ‘“Toodles,” which last snapped his teeth at Nell’s arm and then flung his head high to escape the well- merited slap that he feared was coming. But Nell did not slap him. He was looking for his buddy. “Oley!” he called. The sergeant at the other end of the picket line nearly leaped out of his clothes and then made another leap that carried him to Nell. “What the are you doin’ here?” cried Oley. : ‘“T’m with a doughboy outfit in the barn there. We just come off the front.” “Till say you did. Why don’t you shave?” | ‘“Never mind the shave, I’ve been work- in’,” grinned Nell. ‘‘Where’s this gang of Jaspers going?” ‘Up to the front,” said Oley, ‘‘just A and B troops. The Old Man’s in command.” “Up to the front,” cried Nell, ‘““why when did that happen?” comiclboooks CO