The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1894-05-05

| bacco was running low. The only pack
| of cards was a "monte layout" our
packer had scraped from horse hide
with piece of broken glass
Something was going to happen, for
the strain was telling on mems nerves.
The weather was too hot for camp
i.leness. and we were near the Sine"
I was first sergeant of l. troop then,
and, next to a coward or a thief,
think / loathed deserter. We were
near the border of Mexico whe-e one
must not cross, but where smuggling is
permitted and vice possible.
The men were getting irritable-I
knew the signs, the tension was reach
ing swapping point. ! had been think
ing of it all day. That evening John
Leighton and i were working under
the orderly fly at the 'records"-were
posting Waugh and Murray's finals"
| in the clothing and descriptive books.
Waugh was corporal and Murray our
blacksmith, who had been killed the
week before on the day we pushed the
Apaches off the divide. We were
crowding them too closely in the lower
|
the canyon and nipped our pack-train
in rear. We had to quit pressing in
front to save our train. 1t was a clever
bit of work and five bucks did IL, kill
ing two men for us. losing as our game
just as we were bagging it.
Leighton was company clerk, tai
ented, handsome fellow; had served
out in India. He had cheering fresh
ness and facility of expression, and
spoke with the quick. falling infection
and directness of the English in speech
one so quickly learns to love. He was
mechanically ruling double red-ink
lines in a book where 1ife's account
of services had been credited and
closed, much as bank book is ruled
when a statement is rendered from a
balance struck The words Died or
Deserted" placed in red ink in the
space below, showed the cause of clos
ing for service abruptly terminated.
The usual remark was discharged by
expiration term of service" in black
ink
Sergeant, and whose will be the
next bloody 'D'?" asked Leighton, with
out a ring of feeling.
"There'l1 be plenty OF 'em, ii this
blooming heat continues and we re-
main in this camp" replied.
"And do you suppose the devil will
ever want a transcript from Murray's
court-martial record?" Murray had
been an excellent troop blacksmith.
but a most constant drunkard, so his
record was full one.
eff he does, Murray won'tdraw brim-
stone liquor for year." replied.
THE lad will be none the worse for
that-for surely here he had most
consuming thirst"
We were working at this official
funeral in the sultry summer night by
the unsteady light of lantern-candles,
and were not feeling impressed or rev.
erent Leighton was in his undershirt,
open at his handsome brown throat.
AS he leaned over the books at work a
locket from his bosom fell the slack of
its gold chain and struck the desk.
noticed it, and he took it off, hand
ing it to me with Indifference. He had
opened the locket, revealing the por-
trait, which was that of fresh young
pirl-one of those sweet English faces,
whose charm is complexion and ex-
preston of confidence complete. The
eyes arrested yon-pathetic, soft-brown
eyes, so tender they seemed to re-
proach, and, as you changed your point
of view of the miniature, followed you
with their full, warm light. / have
seen such affectionate light only in the
brown eyes of faithful dogs watching
those they love-
Seeing my more than casual notice
of the portrait, Leighton added: Its
an old story; not worth the telling; l
don't know why keep it."
He spoke with the same absent in
terest we were feeling over this work
for the dead. 1t struck me as peculiar
that in romance accomplished there
should be no trace of bitterness or re-
morse, only weary indifference. was
SO quickly fascinated by the face that
Leighton's manner annoyed me, and
did not ask him for the story. Posi-
bly, overhead makes men irritable, for
somehow resented this careless fell
low wearing about him a face like
that with less interest than he wore
his spurs. did not then notice the re-
senibIance of the faceto Leighton's.
| l stopped abruptly and thought of
desertion. changing the conversation to
this. the subject of my days musing.
Leighton, something's got to be
done to relieve the pressure. l know
the lieutenant would like to do SO.
He feels the pulse of this camp and
knows the symptoms But what can
he do? His orders to remain here are
imperative, and he can't pass us across
the line"
Hunting leave" laughed Leighton.
Hunting leave, then, let it be-" l re-
piled, with no questions asked as to
game or preserve, though l can tell
what yours will be, you young devil!
Tomorrow make out hunting pass
for SIX" Leighton was humming a
catchy service ballad that had appeared
/ 4 l. l. Al. L