Adventure Magazine Cover — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

I2 hurriedly around to see if he were observed. “Oh, my back!” he whispered gleefully. And as if that were not enough, at the end of the lane he found a shed, a lean-to built against the wall of a stable, for the shelter of the inevitable high-wheeled cart. A hasty exploration showed that it was empty. The Yank dumped his blankets under the cart, spread them out, took out the seat cushion for a pillow and was about to remove his outer clothing, when a thought occurred to him. “Tf I smoke this cigaret now,” he thought, ‘“‘some one will smell it and then I’ll be a popular man. If I get two puffs out of it Pll.be lucky. No, sir; I won’t light up here. Pll go out in the fields where I can finish it all myself. Not so bad after all. A bed under cover and a whole fag. Ihaven’t had one for some long time.” He went up the street to the north end of the village, where the other dragoon regiment of the brigade was quartered. The hussar regiment occupied the east side, all of the horses being picketed in the fields. “Here,” thought the Yank, “is a fine place.” He was beyond the farthest picket-line, on the edge of a little gully across which was black woods. He hunted a match for a moment, found one, lighted it and held it to the end of his cigaret. “Tf there’s a ’un out there, ’e’ll be a-snipin’ of you,” said a voice. The Yank groaned and looked around. He could make out a dim outline, a form that was unmistakable. It was the ser- geant who had commanded the patrol. ““Whato,” said the Yank. ‘You gave me a start! Have a drag?” “Aye,” said the sergeant. ‘TI see as you ’ave the proper spirit for a recruit. You’d better let me smoke that fag. I’m an older man than you an’ if I get ruined it won’t be much of a loss.” He shifted a sword that he carried to the crook of his left elbow and reached out his hand. The Yank gave him the cigaret. The sergeant inhaled, while the Yank watched the spark travel rapidly up the cigaret. Oh, what a drag! The sergeant handed him back the remainder of the cigaret. “Take it,’’ said the sergeant. “I never smoke them, only I ’aven’t ’ad a bit of *backy fer me pipe fora longtime. Inever ’ad much use for fags. They’re like takin’ Adventure a mouthful of Lunnun fog, an’ not ’alf so satisfyin’.”’ The Yank proceeded to smoke himself. From the fields came the stamp of the horses, shrill squeals and the thud of hoofs on ribs as impatient chargers requested their fellows on the line to make room for them. There were voices down there in the darkness, clear yet indistinguishable. A wagon rattled on the road, there were faint snatches of song from the other side of the village, where the Yank’s dragoons were quartered. “Tt’s a pleasant night,’ said the Yank at last. “Aye,” said the sergeant. notice a lack of anything?”’ ‘Nothing but beds,” said the Yank. “Beds and tobacco.” The sergeant snorted. “I thought you said as you’d ’ad service. Do you see any outposts, any pickets, any security for this hencampment at all?” “No,” said the Yank shamefacedly..” ‘I don’t. But why are they necessary? We're in the middle of the British army, and we haven’t seen any enemy for three days.” Again the sergeant snorted. “Oo killed Neddy?” he asked. ‘“ ’Ow do you know as we’re in the middle of the army? We ’ave arrayed ag’inst us a halert an’ active henemy, as is got youlans by the thousand. Them youlans is the dandy lads for drivin’ in on places like this. This morning we lost a man to them. Tonight we might lose some more. I was thinkin’ I might get a chance to even up the score, as I was takin’ me bit of a walk.”’ Here he rattled his sword ever so slightly. “You never should be without it,’’ he continued in response to the Yank’s ex- clamation. “They’re a fine dandy thing for killin’? a man. In South Africa the henemy would creep in a’most to our blankets. I got the ’abit there of carryin’ me pin about with me. “It is not ’eavy an’ gives a man a bit of swank, like a toff’s walkin’-stick. Well, I’m fer bed. We ’ad a proper ride today an’ we’re like to ’ave another tomorrow.” THE Yank, taking a last drag that burned his lips, stamped out the butt, and he and the sergeant went back through the lines toward the town. The hussar regiment was asleep in the field, “Do you Go DOOLK 1eO)