Trooper Tales — page 258: what you’re looking at

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

242 A Soldier and a Man. my left-hand pocket. I can’t work this hand. Oh, I'll roll it myseli—gracias muchas! . . . Give mea light, please.” “Tell me what you know,” demanded the first sergeant, striding up. “The black boy who struck me didn’t do a good job— I know that! . . . I was standing at Palto’s head telling him a little love story. All at once the brute sniffed and struck at something over my shoulder. Just at that moment I felt the scratch, and a native ducked under the picket-line and dashed toward the trail. Palto took a shot at the fellow passing, but he didn’t land " A streak of pallor from the lantern rested upon the fallen trooper’s face. The first sergeant had two other questions to ask. He wanted to know if Arden was sure it was a native who knifed him. He would not have thought such a thing if it had not been for the pay-day and the winnings. He desired to know also if Trooper Arden had seen the face of the man with the knife. But the whiteness of the soldier’s features caused the first sergeant to remain silent, and his thoughts made him look very stern. He detailed an extra guard for the stables, and ordered four privates to carry the wounded man up to the quarters. Then he walked up and down in the darkness. That night when the troop surgeon returned to the offi- cers’ quarters after attending the wound of Private Ar- den, he remarked to the troop commander: “That fellow Arden is positively without feeling. He CONNIE NOOKS EO)