Trooper Tales — page 178: what you’re looking at

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

166 ‘The Good Which Was in Him. His descriptive list was not among the papers, but the dates and place of enlistment are all right.” Allen spoke very quietly. He had been working over the papers for many minutes. The first sergeant looked up from a ten-day-old paper and remarked: “I’m glad of it.. Can’t make a soldier out of a homesick young lady. . . . The mud will be knee-deep down at the stables in the morning by grooming time if this infernal rain keeps up—and this is the dry season.” The rain clouds rushed and clamored above the tiny town. The trumpeter of the troop put his head out into the storm, and his bugle screamed the last call a soldier hears at night—the weird, wailing taps. The next forenoon “Allen, Number Two,” with a big canvas roll in his arms, started in an oxcart for Manati, where he would connect by train with San Juan. He was the happiest boy on the whole island of Porto Rico, because he was going back to God’s country and his mother,.and there was an honorable discharge in his pocket. Just before he had left the quarters Allen, the troop-clerk, had given him a sealed envelope, and said the following in a dry whisper: “Read this, old man, when you can’t see San Juan any longer from the deck of the transport—not a minute sooner. Understand? And write to me all—all about Washington, as soon as you can. . . . Well, adios, Kid. Good luck to you.” The same afternoon another bunch of mail was brought to the troop. There had been so much on the delayed ’ Ghooks: co