Trooper Tales — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

. RED BRENNAN OF THE SEVENTH. Dad Evans told the tale. He is an old cavalryman, born with a saddle between his thighs—a soldier by tem- perament and a man instinctively. Old Dad has served thirty years, but he was so miserable away from the troop that they took him back in spite of his dimmed eyes and chaiky joints. | Rebellion memories are rampant in Dad Evans’ mind. He was a tough little bow-legged cavalryman then. A dozen Indian fights are shown on his discharge papers. And then he was one of those boys who left their horses back in the States and pushed up the sand-soaked hills in front of Santiago, the once coveted. But there is one scene which Old Dad’s eyes looked upon when they were not dim—a scene which appears again when his pipe is lit and his bunk is comfortable—a scene and a story, which Dad Evans does not tell except — at the canteen, when his month’s pay flows with his words. Then he will tell you about Rain-in-the-Face, the ugliest of the Sioux, and the craftiest of red men, and about the deserter from the ranks of Uncle Sam’s horsemen who was chained to him. He will tell you how Indians fight, CONNIE HOOKS .EO)