Trooper Tales — page 252: what you’re looking at

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

236 A Soldier and a Man. ox-driver, drinking white rum in the café. His face was not pleasant tolook upon. And when the café was closed -and he could stay no longer, Manrique staggered over to the poverty district of the town and paused in front of one of the shacks. Loudly he kicked the bolted door. There was no reply, and he kicked again and a third time. Then he staggered away toward his own shack on the Manati trail. And as he went, Manrique cursed in a strange tongue. Everywhere about him was the black shade of a moon- less tropical night, and everywhere above him was the white glory of the tropical stars. * * *K * * * * * “What in the devil do you call that beast ‘Palto’ for?’ whispered a trooper standing next to Arden at grooming-time the next morning. Any soldier knows that no talking is allowed at groom- ing. That is why the man next to Arden whispered his question. Palto, the unkillable, had just damaged the hide of the troop horse nearest. At regular intervals the white-faced was facetious, and he invariably vented it in this manner on any live thing which happened to be near, so long as it was not Trooper Arden. The latter eyed the other soldier curiously for a second, and then an- swered the question in this manner: “A woman I used to know back in the States had a habit of calling her dog ‘Palto.’ ” The soldier who asked the question grinned forbear- Eomichbooks:co