Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1897-04-22


lans, so familiar during the war days.
AS the mule seemed only l.alf awake and
unaware ne yet of bis freedom Lambert
first essayed to reset the saddle, ,towhich
he submitted without objection, and
then to replace the bride, to which he
would not submit at all, but with low
cred front and menacing hoof turned
tim about and logged over to where
some wisps OF hay lay scattered in
front Of shanty labeled Post Office"
For ten minutes Lambert exercised his
arts in vain effort to recapture that
mule, and then, in sheer disgust, threw
the bride on the sidewalk, picked up an
abandoned half brick, and let the mule
tave it IN the flank. He merely twitched
his scraggy hide, raised one instant the
aearmost hoof, but never lifted his
head. The brute was hungry from long
fasting and did not mean to be dis
turbed, and Lambert, who had eaten
nothing since the previous day, was
presently in full sympathy. Once more
lie looked around In search of some
human being, and found himself con-
fronting a citizen in shirt sleeves and
tangled head of hair, who. leaning out
Ct second-story window. was neverthe-
less not 20 feet away. For moment
each reg ,rded the other without word.
Then the native spoke:
What We tryin' to do?"
"I was trying to catch that mule"
want him fr anythiLg?"
mo; only found him tangled in his
reins, and he got away after / loosed
Kim"
The native regarded the newcomer
curiously. Lambert had slung his
blue cape over the hitching rail during
his brief pursuit of the ungrateful
least and his neat-ftting suit OF tweed
was something new to Tugaloo eyes.
So was the jaunty drab derby.
"You don't b'long roun' yere, do your"
queried Tugaloo next.
"I don't; and the Lord knows don't
want to; and I'd be glad to find soma
way Of getting myself and my trunk
yonder. out to camp. Can you suggest
any?"
"We-ell, you might walk. Don't reck-
on your trunk kin. though. Know the
way?"
"No."
"Foller the track down thar o piece,
an you'll come to path along the
branch. It'll take you right in 'mongst
the tents. 'Tain't more n a few rawds."
THANK you, my friend. You're the
first live man I've found. suppose I
can send in for my trunk?"
Reckon We can. They've gaw. mules
an wagons enough"
Lambert gathered up his belongings
and trudged away. He did not mean
to yield to the feeling of depression that
was struggling to possess him. yet the
blue devils were tugging at his heart
strings. Wasn't this just what his class
mates had prophesied would happer II
he went into the infantry? Could any
service be much more joyless, unevent-
full, forlorn, than this promised to be?
''Mark Tapley himself would go to
pieces in such place." he had heard
some one at headquarters say of Tuga-
loo, but he meant to out-Tapley Mark
II need be, and nobody should know how
much he wished he hadn't been assigned
to this sort of duty and to this particu-
lar regiment-certainly not his class-
mates. and, above nll, not the loving
mother at home. Heavensl how unlike
was this bleared, wasted, desolate land
to the sweet and smiling New England
vale where his boyhood had been spent,
to the thickly-settled, thrifty, bustling
shores of the Merrimac!
He had walked nearly mile and had
seen no sign of camp or sentry. but on
sudden the path left the brushwood
beside the sluggish "branch," rounded
n projecting knoll, and was lost in u
rough, red clay, country road. fence.
with n thick hedge of fwild-rose-bushes,
was to his left-leaves and roses long
since withered-and over the tops he
caught sight of the roof and upper
story of some old southern homestead,
at which he had n better peep from
the gateway farther along. A path of
red brick led to the fight of steps,
broad and bordered by unpretcntious
balustrades. Dingy white columns
supported the roof of wide piazza.
Smoke was drifting from a battered
pipe projecting from the red brick
chimney at the north end, and the
morning air was family scented with n
most appetizing fragrance of broiling
ham. 1t made Lambert ravenous.
Somewhere around the next bend in
the road, beyond the northward extrem-
ity of the old fence, he could hear the
sound Of voices and asplashing of water.
Fastening on, he found himself over
looking n level "bench" surrounded
ON three sides by q deep bend Of the
stream and partially separated from
the red roadway by fringe of stunted
trees and thiclk, stubborn bushes; and
here, in an irregular square. Lambert
came face to face with the encampment
of the first company, outside of West
Point, IL was ever his luck to join. At
that particular moment he was just
about ready TO resolve it should be the
last.
On two sides of the square, facing
each other and perhaps 20 yards
npart, were the "a" tents of the COM
pany. ten on n side. At the flank farth-
est from the road and pitched 30 as to
u
wall tent, backed by one or two of the
smaller pattern. Nearest the road was
n second wall tent, used, possibly. by
the guard-though no guards were vis-
ible-the white canvas cover of mn army
wagon. and few more scattered "a"
tents. Cools-fires had been ablaze and
were now smouldering about the wag-
on. Several men in gray woolen shirts
were washing their faces at the stream;
others, in light-bluo overcoats, were
sauntering about the tents, some of
whose occupants, rs could be easily
eeen. were still asleep.
Standing at the edge of the winding
road. and thinking how easy matter
II would be 20 toss hand-grenade into
the midst OF the camp. Lambert paused
n moment and studied the scene. Rest
Ing an his sword, still in it's chamois
case, with his cloak and satchcl
thrown over his shoulder. the young
officer became suddenly aware of man
wearing the chevrons OF corporal who,
fshing-rod in hand. was standing just
beyond q cfump of bushes below and
en- his shrewd, "Bowery-boy" face in
which imPudence and interest were
about equally mingled. So soon mn he