The daily morning journal and courier., 1900-04-07
THE TRUMPET CALL AVAILED
4 STORY OF THE SOUTH AFRICA N
 VAR.
How RugIer Simmons Found His Way
 Out of Dilemma.

l l Out of Dilemma.
 There was something worse thar
 weeping and wailing among the Pink
 Dragons when it became known tha'
 their pet squadron had been gobbied uI
 by the enemy and sent off to langulsh
 in the retirement of the racecourse at Pretoria. Even their old rivals, the
 Tyrone fusiliers, with whom they had
 met and fought in all parts of the world
 with belts and fists, had nothing but pity for them, and delicately forbore to
 make any remarks upon the news
 Since they were under orders for the Cape the Tyrone fusiliers were on tnelr
 best behavior, and the Pink Dragons at the depot felt too low and depressed
 even to desire a farwell fight with the Irismen.
 So they chummed instead. For the first time in the history of the Brltlsh army Pink Dragons and Tyrone tusl-
 Hers were seen walking together, drink
 ing together, and smoking each others 5 tobacco. Some of them even walked out
 with the same girl, and proud were the damsels who walked out escorted by a l fusilier and dragoon, thus forming
 link, as it were, 'twixt two gallant re-
 giments which had been at ennity since
 the days of Wellington. No man could rightly trace the cause
 of the quarrel between them. One his
 torian claimed that at the battle of Wa | terloo the fusiliers had prepared the dra-
 goons under the mistaken impression | that that they were French cavalry, 1 thus adding injury to insult. Another authority held that the trouble arose be- | tween the regiments during the Pen1n- sular war, when, after the fierce battle of Albuera, the fusiliers had come up for their share of some pipes of footed Valdepenas wine to find that the pink hussars had absorbed the last glassful and had filled up the pipes with water.
 Perhaps the truest story of the feud was that which told how, when quarter ed in the same town, after the Crimean war, the dragoons and fusiliers had in- termarried freely so that they had be- come almost as one family All had gone well until the daughters of fusi- Hers who had welded dragoons began to patronize the daughters of dragons who had married fusiliers, referring to their husbands as 'fut sojerS.'
 Anyhow all these wrongs were for gotten in the one great trouble which had befallen the Pinks. Sympathy found beer to drown sorrow, and no one rejoiced but the wives of the men who had been made prisoners.
 When the day of departure came for the fusiliers, the band of the Pinks play ed them down to the station. Then the q tha rJc If ha carriages to bid them a last farewell, and close-cropped heads were cuffed affectonately
 "We'll bring 'em back, don't you fear, an their 'orses, too," said the Tyrone fusiliers.
 An ould Kruger wid 'em," inter- posed a corporal on his own account.
 Although there was plenty of room in the special train, the Tyrone fusiliers preferred to travel 15 in a compartment as being more sociable and convivial than the orthodox five side. So the bugler had a compartment all to him self, and was spreading himself accord ingly.
 Don't you be afraid, Danny" he said to the trumpeter; "1'll keep a good look out for your chaps when we reach Pre- toria, an I'll see what I can do for em"
 Don't you be too sharp an sget a-cut- tin yerself Bugler Smmons!" replied 1 the trumpeter, with gentle sarcasm, | especially along q that new bay O yours, an if you see my pertickler friend, Corpral 'Awkey, along O them | pris'ners, give i'm my love an arsk i'm | my love an arsk i'm if e likes Pretor- | ia better'n Portland. All right guy nor | all right. Keep yer 'ands orf the army, earnt yer It's a-lavin' it's precious | lives for the likes O you, ain't it?"
 These last remarks were adressed to the guard.
 Don't forget them calls I taught ! yer!" cried the trumpeter to his depart ing friend.
 Not 'ark!" shouted back the bugler appreciatively.
 Then, having made a grimace at the guard he pulled in his head and settled himself comfortably in the corner to start a tiny packet of particularly vil- lainous cigaretS which had been pressed on him by a sympathetic friend as they out of the barracks,
 Beyond the trumpeter of the Pink dra- goons. Bugler Simmons had had no friends to see him off. He had not miss ed this last tribute to the departing soldier, since throughout his short life he had never enjoyed the privilege of re- Iationship.
 He had been an orphan at the tender age of six months, had been raised in a work-house school, and had drfted into -he army by reason of his proficiency in wind instruments.
 One lady, indeed, as the troops had marched down to the train, had, much to his indignation lifted him in her arms and kissed him.
 Just as if I was a bloomin' baby." ne remarked scornfully to himself as he sat in the corner puffing bravely at his ,igaret; wait till we comes across some J them Boers, that's all" ..
 Five weeks later the bad luck of the Pink dragons fell upon the Tyrone usiliers, and Bugler Simmons had his irst chance of tasting the stern realities ,f war to the uttermost dregs of the up.
 Of course, it was nobody's fault in particular and everybody's fault in gen. .ral and the fusiliers cursed nothing