Trooper Tales — page 154: what you’re looking at

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

ee i Se aati * a ee Pe 142 Back to San Anton’. again. It was a different looking trooper who reported for duty to the first sergeant that morning. Twelve days had passed since Mulgowan lingered on the picket- line, whispering to Yellow Hair and looking backward toward San Anton’. In the orderly-room, where the troop _ books were kept, a dirty word was written opposite his name. In the little volume containing army regulations, words are printed to this effect: “Any soldier deserting from garrison or field will be accorded such punishment as the court-martial may di- rect. In time of war this punishment shall be death.” Mulgowan had come back to the troop in the night. Just after reveille he had reported to the first sergeant, and the troop commander had placed him at once under arrest. Mulgowan spoke no word to his old fellows. Oh, how we wished we could help him. There was no joking at mess that morning. Anybody can tell you what happened after reveille and before stables. A corporal and two privates of the main guard were sent over from headquarters. The boys who loved Mulgowan were out in the troop street, watching while they placed him under arrest. Had they been any- thing but good soldiers, and had they been anywhere ex- cept in Uncle Sam’s army, the arrest of Mulgowan would never have taken place. “Escort this prisoner to the guard-house,” the troop commander ordered. Mulgowan stood at attention and spoke no word. The two privates of the main guard brought their car- (COMME NOVO KS, (eve)