Trooper Tales — page 190: what you’re looking at

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

176 ‘The Aberration of Private Brown. ‘the tropical twilight above the cliffs. Brown was foolish enough to let his thoughts wander back to his native land. Very hurriedly, very carelessly, he had kissed a tall, dark- - eyed maiden on the spring night in the Northland, just before he chased off to join his regiment. The memory of that northern maiden had become a massive thing in his brain during the last few months. Below him the Rio Grande tumbled noisily across the Manati trail. Some- thing which an old cavalry sergeant was saying caught Brown’s ear this moment. r Pretty foxy recruit, he was, but dead sore on the service. First thing we knew he was laid up with a bad leg. The doctor was no chump, but he couldn't — do a thing for the rook—leg was stiff and swollen. Doc got gray hairs over the case—let the kid pound his bunk for a few weeks, then give him a discharge for disability. As soon as the kid got home he wrote back to his bunkie something like this: “ “Thread a horsehair on a fine needle and run it under your kneecap. It won’t bleed nor hurt much. Shave off the ends of the hair close and go on sick report. The doctor will do the rest. You can pull the hair out when you're a man again—but maybe you want to serve out your three years. Say, my leg was in fine shape the day after I limped out of headquarters with a pained look on my face and a discharge in my clothes. Love to all the boys.’ ” Brown’s face reflected the glow from the red embers of his pipe that night as he lay upon his bunk. And I, Gomicbooks.co