The Chanute times. [volume] (Chanute, Kan.) 1897-1913, 1901-02-01

In those dark days it was the JOY
of the more hardy recruits to take him
aside soemnly and request the service
of three-pence three farthings. worth
of white feathers. Any morsel OF
down or fluff that might float into the
barracks was promptly captured and
presented to him with due ceremonies
by Trumpeter Pipes, the low comedian
of the regiment. -
The older men forbore to join In
with these somewhat firing repetitions
of a stale joke They remembered
their own experiences In the riding
school and recognized that White
Feather was quiet and inoffensive
| fellow devoid of the impudence and
bad manners peculiar to recruits and
respectful and helpful to his seniors.
The sergeant instructor. too, after a
time took fancy to his timid recruit,
and took extra trouble to teach him
how to keep his heels out, his hands
down and his head up.
1--WE made smart cavalrymen out O.
bigger buffers than YOU" he used 10
remark encouragingly as he Kicked
| White Feathers horse into canter
land I'll make rider O. you, or III
break your neck!" White Feathers
neck remained unbroken so it is to be
presumed that the sergeant Instructor
| fulfilled his word.
Presently he began to lose the hang
dog look of suppressed terror with
which he had been accustomed TO en-
ter the riding school and to acquire
| the easy swagger of a cavalryman. HIS
chest contracted by long hours at the
counter, developed under healthy train
ing. Fresh air and much exercise
helped White Feathers development
which had been sadly retarded by the
heavy, gas-laden atmosphere in which
he had lived His nerves acquired tone,
and he learned to take tumble now
and then as a matter Of course and TO
fire his carbine without shutting his
eyes and blanching at the explosion OF
the cartridge.
BLOW me, If he isn't going to shape
| into man at last!" Quoth the ser
geant instructor.
Then a great blow fell upon him. He
| received one morning letter from
the girl to tell him that she had given
him up in favor of a shopwalker who
had expectations of being set up IN
business by his father. She admitted
| that she had adored soldiers and that
she had caused him to enter the
army for her sake. But she had
omitted to state that the soldiers she
adored were soldiers who possessed the
Queens commission and who wore
stars instead of a worsted stripe.
If poor White Feather was physl-
cal coward. he was a moral hero. There
is no chance Of display of feeling in
a barrack room SO, like the Spartan
bow of old, he Rugged his trouble to
him. slipping the cheap little engage
ment ring with which he had sealed
his troth into his pocket without
sign beyond the twitching of his white
lips. Then he lit his pipe with the
| letter. not out of contempt, but because
there is little privacy accorded In the
correspondence that comes to the par
rack room, and private soldier is not
provided with desk wherein to Keep
his faded flowers and other sentiment
tai tokens of the past
The blow was a very heavy one, Tor
White Feather was without the world
w knowledge that should have told
him long since that he had fixed his
affections upon a vulgar, selfish and
brainless flirt, and he still believed IN
her.
For her sake he had learned to over
come his physical cowardice. He had
dreamed of a possible commission In
the dim future and had rejoiced in the
recently acquired promotion as step
| toward her.
For her sake, too, he received the
news cheerfully when the word passed
through the barracks that the regi-
ment was ordered to South Africa to
meet the Beers. He knew that he was
by nature a coward, but for the mem
DRY of her he swore an oath to HIM
self to do his duty without sparing
L
himself in the coming fight.
Look ere, old chap, We amt going
to call you White Feather no more!"
said Trumpeter Pipes as they lay to-
gether behind the shelter of a large
bowlder, against the face Of which the
Boer bullets were pattering like a
heavy rain.
In full sight Of the whole army their
squadron had crossed the Boer front
amid hail of bullets which had
brought 20 men to earth.
White Feathers horse had been shot
under him, and, at the risk of his life,
he had carried the wounded trumpeter
into the shelter of the powders. He
was unhurt, but trembled in every limb
from fear and great exertion.
From between two powders he
peeped out and saw, amid the bodies
of men and horses that Uttered the
plain, a wounded man crawling on his
hands and knees amid a spatter of
bullets that were kicking puffs OF dust
r. a. III =. t...