The National tribune., 1888-02-09

the coffin after it has been lowered into the
grave. The last and most touching scene is
the sounding of taps" the last call" by a
musician at the head of the grave As the sol
emn notes sound out, all is hushed and still,
and all are impressed by the solemnity Of the
scene. The burial ceremonies over, the COM
mand returns to the post with the music play
ing lively tune, often John Browns Body"
or something equally gay. Such is a soldiers
life in peace, but in war and upon hurried
marches, ceremonies even at the grave are dis
pensed with.
Rations when the command started were
plenty; besides the generous allowance fur
nished by our induigent Uncle Samuel" we
enjoyed butter, milk, white sugar, apd even the
chief dainty dish of soldiers pie But as we
journeyed westward Injuries disappeared. aud
simple, very simple, army ratons were all we
had left. famous dish, consisting of soaked
army biscuit, called bareback, fried in grease
and covered with molasses was highly priced
by the hungry travellers Often by the even
ing campfire the cooks would prepare great
piles of hapjacks, and it was fun to watch them
throw the cake high in the air as they turned
it, and catch it as it fell. As long as sugar and
strip lasted, these were famous treats They
would seem rather indigestible to those who
live in civilization, but hunger is a good sauce,
as many of readers will find out some day, if
they have not already discovered it.
as 3 o'clock in the morning,
THE REvEILLE
would call us from our slumbers. The camp
fires lighted up the scene again; sudden
striking of tents, as if by magic, and a syste-
matte slowing away in the great wagons; then
came a hurried breakfast of coffee, bareback
| and bacon around the campfres, and then
sounded boots and Saddles" and the command
| had started on another march. The old guard
I - -1rfx d. L.
out into the road and our campfres fade away
we can see that the Indians have taken posses
sion and are searching for what we have left
| behind u.s. and warming themselves where we
were only few moments ago Day dawned
when we had already travelled some distance
and our camp had long since been out Of sight
| and in possession of the enemy.
We crossed the Arkansas River July A. and
celebrated the day after crossing by some ex-
tras at dinner, grand bonfire aud some home
made fireworks in the evening.
Our marches were not always made near
| cool springs, and often we marched from
water to water carrying what we could in our
eanteens; but this supply soon became warm
aud unfit for use and considerable suffering
would result. Sometimes we approached
water holes, or buffalo wallows, filled with
water, the dogs would plunge in before we
| could unsling our canteens We found the
ARKANSAS RIVER WATER,
when encamped on that stream, red with mud
and quite uninviting in appearance, but after
| dipping out pailful and letting it stand few
minutes the sediment would settle and the
water become clear and delicious to drink.
| The daily march was not long one, averaging
| only Is to 16 miles, but with slow pace three
miles an hour or less, and many halts and OBJ
stacles before us TO overcome, like broken
| roads and fords to cross. Cavalry proceeds with
| no greater speed than infantry, when cncum-
| bered with heavy trains, and three miles an
| hour was considered fair average across the
| plains. Sometimes our march covered only I0
miles, and again we made long journey. II
| depended very much upon the supply of wood
water and grass.
1t was easy enough to find rattlesnakes, il
one wished, near camp, or little way on either
| side Of the marching column. The plains were
full of them then, and they were much dreaded
| in camp, where they often appeared, sometimes
startling the cooks near the morning campfire
or even crawling beside tile sleeping soldier
wrapped in his blanket in his tent We found
one in our tent one morning, and you can i'm
agine our fright. The snake paid for his in.
trusion with his life, however, but that was
poor comfort to US. One afternoon, after max.
ing camp, q friend of mine went out for walk
but little way from the hospital tent He
had removed his riding boots and wore light
pair of slippers. In climbing little rising
ground rattlesnake bit him on the instep
The wound was sucked upon his reaching
camp and carefully cauterized and a heavy
dose of whisky given him. He was put to bed
in the ambulance and never experienced any
further trouble from the wound The whisky
was supposed TO have cured him. He was
brave fellow, not easily frightened, for aftel
being bitten he sat down, and, taking careful
aim with his pistol, shot the snake
THROUGH THE HEAD
and brought his remains to camp as trophy
The rattlesnake bite is not always so easily
cured. In this case the snake may have
emptied its poison bag shortly before he bi