Trooper Tales — page 137: what you’re looking at

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

Shadow and the Cherub. | 125 “You ought to know, captain, how duty looks and time passes to a soldier on pay-day,” the lieutenant replied weakly. He was talking to his superior officer. “Let them go,” repeated the captain, and the boys went to town with money intact and great responsibilities | tingling in their breasts. All came back save one, who was not a drinking man, and who had lost a sweetheart back in San Anton’, but not in Porto Rico. It was in those four hours that Old Chicken found Shadow. The first time I saw him was a half hour be- fore the time of embarkation. He was sitting in the dark- ness on the lee side of the great ship. Above him flick- _ ered meaningless lights and a shadowy mystery of ropes and rigging. Below him the chocolate-hued Savannah playfully slapped the big piers and the transport’s plated sides. Beyond him lay the sea, trackless, dark and vast. Two large bottles of something protruded from Shadow’s blouse. Smaller bottles of something protrud- ed from Shadow’s many pockets. Hampers of other good things surrounded him; and, very strange to tell, Wild Bill, the most dissolute and prodigal of troop tom-cats, purred cozily upon his lap. But most inconceivable of all was the attitude of Cherub, the untamable—Cherub, the vicious and massive- jawed bloodhound—for several years a chattel of Troop K. Cherub’s hatred for civilians was depthless and _ dreadful. Then why should he put his great, ugly head upon Shadow’s lap and there rest so quietly and peaceably? Eomichbooks.co