Trooper Tales — page 149: what you’re looking at

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

Back to San Anton’. 137 ment pulls out. They tell you things that you never heard from their lips before. They talk to you alone. They are pretty in their gaiety, bewitching in their silence, quite womanly in their tears, and adorable. The last night at the San Anton’ barracks was memorable. The regiment was ready to laugh or cry. Promises were made. Mul- gowan danced with dark eyes, and later they strolled out into the moonlight together. And old Geldez watched them and plotted still. Historical novels have been written upon the reasons why regiments were ordered out a short time ago. There 1 were few happier men than Mulgowan in the troop at any time, but while we were pushing on to the front he couldn’t sleep for furious spirits. The “front” is any place on the borderland of God’s country and some other place where something is expected to drop at any mo- ment. We arrived. Not many hours afterward Mul- gowan became a changed man and a spoiled trooper. It happened in the morning just after the mail was brought in. When one opens a package in a _ cavalry camp he takes chances on being seen. One of the draw- backs of the service is that the state of blessed solitude is unattainable. It was a small package such as jewels are sent in. It was unregistered. A human finger, dry and cold, was in the box. Mulgowan did not swear, which was unnatural. The skin upon his face became colorless. He dropped the thing. The trooper nearest looked at it intently and then at his own hands. “Left third finger,” he remarked. Eomichooks co