Trooper Tales — page 138: what you’re looking at

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

126 Shadow and the Cherub. “Yo an’ me is dun ’guine to Porto Ric, an’ pussie-tom and Old Chick is dun ’guine. Doan’ shake yo’ big hade dat-a-way. I is aguine cos Old Chick dun sade I could. We alls ’guine to Porto Ric, and de horses.” Shadow’s head was very close to Cherub’s jaws while he was muttering these words. Then he began to croon a quaint melody which the Old Mammy days had left be- hind in his kinky head. Cherub yawned in lazy content- ment, Wild Bill purred hoarsely, and I watched, wonder- ing. Meanwhile the cavalrymen returned with laughter and great happiness. Then the big troop-ship cast her log and veered seaward. There were shouts but no sentiment. Good cavalrymen—the ones who win chevrons in their first enlistment—have no sentiment. A recruit possessed of sentiment will lose it in the first three months, or else apply for his discharge. There was much of this element in Shadow’s nature. The horsemen, with their spurs, six-shooters and sabers, made a deep impression. A queer, dreamy look was in his eyes as he gazed out to sea and hummed softly, while a tiny gale from the tropics zipped merrily by. The little dusky boy was glad that he met Old Chick, the farrier, glad that he was with such “strong, big men’’—vaguely glad that he lived. Cherub, the bloodhound, growled at the wind and glared at the sea and kept close to Shadow’s side. Wild Bill cuddled closely. “Here, nigger, take hold of this mop and scrub out. Comicbooks (€@)