Trooper Tales — page 251: what you’re looking at

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

7 ees. ame A Soldier and a Man. 235 other woman whom he knew before he became an atom in the great blue mass of Uncle Sam’s horsemen. Per- haps—but that would be irrelevant! In a moment more he was the man with a grudge against himself, and he uttered this exclamation: “Ba-ah !’’ Eulalie shuddered slightly, though she did not under- stand. Arden grasped her arm softly as if in apology, and the two walked out of the corral toward the trail. As they passed a clump of low palms, a native emerged. Unconsciously Eulalie shrank closer to the soldier. A second afterward she turned and saw a look upon the native’s face which caused her to shudder again. And this time she understood. The native was Manrique, the ox-driver, and he had bowed with abject courtesy to the soldier. : A little later Trooper Arden sank down upon his bunk to smoke and think, and Eulalie hastened away toward the poverty district, where her home was. Ah, but she was a very happy little red maiden that hour! The sol- diers were still lounging and humming in the plaza, for taps had not yet sounded. Mad Marie, who begged eter- nally for the centavos, had attained a state of melancholy inebriation by this time, and was howling in a maudlin monotone in front of the quarters. A couple of native policemen dragged her into the jail, which was also a poor-house, and the soldiers, watching, laughed among themselves. Her child was silent in the woman’s arms. After taps sounded one might have seen Manrique, the GOmMmichdooksncom