Trooper Tales — page 85: what you’re looking at

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

The Wooing of Benito. 77 bunk with deathly pains in his head and back, he had the satisfaction to learn from Benito’s own lips that Toreador, the game one, would shortly be moved up to the shack in the shadow of the great white cliffs. Not many days afterward the troop commander tele- graphed back to the States that Private Redmond was lying very low with smallpox. That very night, the girl who lived in the college town wrote a long letter to her big trooper. There were wet spots on every page, but she sent it, anyway. And that letter was read to the sick soldier by a com- rade in the hospital corps six days afterward. It made the tall trooper feel so strong that he lit a very black pipe for the first time in many days. And now Toreador drowses in the darkness and dreams of the battles he has won, in the shack of Marie and Be- © nito, far up on the trail. And in the evening the old mother of them both sits in the doorway, biding her time, while the tiny Corizel tinkles on its way to join the Rio Grande. COMmIiIGchdoo (c©) SS