The Argosy, Vol. XXV, No. 3 — page 156: what you’re looking at

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

THE BLACK TRUMPETER. A story of the northwestern border—The use that was found for a troublesome charge— Lieutenant Cheatwood’s pickaninny and the service he rendered Troop B-—The flaming signal on the haunted cliff, Hs full name was Simeon Jacob Bolliver John Henry Strader, but to the men stationed at the little army post away out on our northwestern border time was precious, and they called him Sim. Save for the glint of his teeth,,this Simeon was as black as the hackneyed blackness of the ace of spades. But there was no more gloom about Sim than about the big, flaming ball of the sun that poured its burning rays down upon the dusty parade ground in front of the officers’ quarters. He took life radiantly, not to say defiantly. His deficiencies were to him a matter of serene indifference, and he wore the officers’ dress coats and paraded about on the best horses with irrepressible hilarity. His spirits, indeed, were not to be quelled by any calamity short of in- adequate rations. He accomplished his chief aim in life when he got him- self fed; to get himself clothed was no affair of this astute individual, who had discovered that other people would attend to his wardrobe if he only neglected it long enough. He informed the colonel, at the beginning of his military career, as he delighted to term it, that he was irresponsible, which signified that in case of any delinquency on his part matters would be smoothed out by his “daddy,’’ by which title he designated Lieutenant Paul Cheatwood of Troop B, to whom he owed special allegiance. But the men soon discovered that the word was not inapplicable in the sense laid down in the dictionary. His impudence was surpassed by nothing within their ken but his self conceit. He listened to their instructions with an indulgent condescension, and then followed his own way, which was usually to leave undone what he was told to do, and to do what he found most amusing. For a very brief season the whole troop labored under the delusion that they could manage Sim. ‘They soon perceived that it would have been less presumptuous to undertake to tickle a mule’s heel with the expectation of suffering no disagreeable consequences, and they were presently fain to sur- render him openly to Lieutenant Cheatwood’s control. Indeed, the lieu- tenant had a better right to him than any of them, by virtue of reasons which will be presented as our narrative progresses, Sim grinned a cheerful acquiescence to this arrangement. ‘““DPse been a-thinkin’ all ’long,’’ he said, ‘dat one boss is enough fer one chile ob fo’teen.’’ | Then the ‘‘ chile ob fo’teen ”’ straightway proceeded to demonstrate the fact that he was ‘‘ too much’? for all of them together. Comiclooks (S@)