Adventure, August 1917 — page 69: what you’re looking at

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

Dan of the Sword you might tell Major Hardy he’ll be re- lieved. No need for both of us. That’ll mean one happy man in camp, anyway.” A few minutes later Colonel Brown called for his ‘‘dog-robber.” “See that my side- arms are in good shape,” he said, ‘‘and put an edge on that old cavalry saber—a hair-cutting edge. A better one, mind you, than you put on those safety-razor blades.” The soldier-valet acknowledged the order with a quick, “‘Yes sir,” and a precise salute, but the language he used when clear of the colonel’s tent was vividly and volubly im- proper. For an hour he sweated over the saw-edged saber, testing the edge with a hair now andthen. And each time the edge refused to take hold he flung the hair from him with another burst of hushed but im- passioned oratory. Finally he took his troubles to the colonel. a “Sir,” he said, ‘‘I’ve about wore out this whetstone and I can’t put any razor edge on this blade. Bum steel it seems to be.”’ Yankee Dan took the saber, ran his thumb along the edge, then critically in- spected the point. Suddenly he directed the point at the tent-pole and executed a few rapid passes. with amazing accuracy and poise. For the moment he re-lived those days in the Academy when he was the mar- vel of the corps—as invincible as one of the Twelve Peers of France. He was a lean man, usually calm and unhurried in his movements, but put sword or foil in his hand and slowness fell from him like a cloak. The “‘dog-robber” observed and was con- vinced. That request for a razor edge was not persiflage but madness. The Old Man was mad! By a supreme effort of the will the “‘dog- robber” controlled the instinctive muscular contractions of an inglorious stampede until Yankee Dan recollected and dismissed him, whereupon he sidled off to spread the re- port that the “old tyrant” had become a raving maniac. “Dammit, Sammy,’ demanded Brown next day, ‘“‘why do the men stare at me as though I were some strange animal in a zoo?” “‘They are looking for cuts,’ Welford ex- plained in a strangled tone. “Cuts,” Brown repeated sharply. ‘‘What the devil do you mean?” ‘Don’t take offense, sir,”’ Welford begged, ‘but, you see, that man of yours, he’s been 67 telling the men you shave with a cavalry saber and—and they are looking for results, I presume.” 7 Brown’s stern old face registered the shadow of a smile that was just a wee bit foolish. ‘Scorch his skin,” he growled. ‘Has he been saying that? And they believed it. Think I’m crazy, eh. Well, I’ll show ’em how crazy I am tomorrow.”’ On the morrow Yankee Dan walked brisk- ly along the lines of companies, scanning each man sharply, fishing into haversacks, testing fitness and equipment generally. “All right,” he announced, ‘‘we’ll break new ground today.” When this ground was indicated, the men, marching at route step, began to swear. Starting from the camp near the east end of the lake, Yankee Dan had headed due north toward ground never negotiated be- fore for the simple reason that it was almost impassable. To the left of their line of march it was quite impassable. There, weed-choked arms of the lake cut back for miles to a rim of hills almost as difficult. The second battalion fumed with indig- nation. Not content with breaking their backs under preposterous loads, this mad old colonel would soon have them scram- bling goat-like over heart-breaking country under a blistering sun. But the killing pace soon stopped the swapping of profane opin- ion. The men settled to their work, mut- tering curses to themselves when they spoke at all. Never was there such a blankety- blank blank old idiot—but that could wait for the camp talk afterward. ‘This was too raw and brutal, too painfully exacting for immediate expression. At eight o’clock the hike was three hours old and the rim-hills had been won through a dancing heat haze that had made them look like a “movie” picture pantingly at rest. Here Yankee Dan ordered a fifteen- minute rest. At noon he scolded several stragglers. “A mule,” he announced with grim humor, ‘‘would take these infernal rocks without breaking his fool neck. I don’t see why a soldier can’t. I’m older than most of you and I do it, don’t I?” “Yes, and bray too,” one of the strag- glers muttered savagely to himself. He was nursing a bruised shin—“It was made for mules and goats and madmen.” When Yankee Dan gave the order to fall Goo CO CO 5}