Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 267, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 November 1916 — CAMP ENLIVENED BY SCOUT TALES [ARTICLE]

CAMP ENLIVENED BY SCOUT TALES

Soldier Life Dull Now That Picturesque Guides Have Gone Away. TELL OF WEIRD EXPLOITS Considerable Swift and AccuraU Shooting Seems to Have Been Experience of Most of Them— Call Villa by First Name. Field Headquarters, American Punitive Expedition, In Mexico.—There are not so many scouts now as there were in the first days of the punitive expedition. One by one, with many a scoutlike whoop and much business of twirling six-shooters on the fingers, the greater number of them have departed in a cloud of dust and a great clattering of hoofs. That they were allowed to depart may luy the commanders of this expedition open to some criticism. It Is diflicult to entertain an army in camp and those earlier scouts were -entertaining. Those that are left devote an awful lot of time to scouting and very little to conversation. For instance, Jack Boyd, scout chief, was in this tent but a few minutes ago aud an effort was made to draw him out on his experience with the rifie. “Shucks!” said Jack Boyd, glancing in embarrassment at the gold watch on his wrist. “I’m not a good shot. It just happens when we’re out for game I’m lucky.”

Strong on Spotlight. What can one do with a scout like that? Now the earlier scouts were just the other way around. Take the chap they called “Mail Order.” The name was given him by the soldiers, who seemed to feel that his wide-brimmed hat, vivid neckerchief, embossed holsters and other “props” had been acquired by the system Invented in Chicago. Mall Order had been detailing a killing in which he had played the spotlight a good deal. There had been considerable swift and accurate shooting, it seems, and Mail Order had- come out of the blue smoke with two hot revolvers and three dead men on his conscience. “In course, I had to shoot,” said Mail Order. “ ’Cause these here hombres were Axin’ to wipe me out. But I don’t care none fer killin’ men. Every time I kill a man it gives me the shivers.” Nearly all those early scouts seemed to be personally acquainted with Pancho Villa and referred to him almost exclusively by first name. One of these sighed heartily upon hearing an official report of the expedition’s engagement with a band of outlaws. “That aint really no fun,” he yawned. “When I was with Pancho some of them greasers tried to run off my cattle over to Sonora. I gets up and, while my breakfast coffee is a-cookin’, I goes out and kills fourteen of ’em.”

Dressed in Trophies. Another claimed to be dressed entirely in trophies and relics. He was forever glancing at an enormous silver watch. “See that watch?” he would then ask. “Took that often Suierro the Sutcher after I killed him.” Then he would call attention to his boots, claiming that they were the mementoes of another bloody encounter. His pistol was highly prized, inasmuch as he declared it was a gift from Pancho Villa on the occasion of the scout’s assassination of eight personal enemies of Villa. Thus ran the stories of the scouts who have departed. Their tales are sadly missed in camp. Reviewing some of them the writer questioned Jack Boyd closely. “You must have a remarkable shooting story somewhere about you,” he was urged. “Yes,” said Jack, “I have. Day before yesterday Lieutenant Patton and I were out shooting and we ran Into a herd of 75 antelope. We got one apiece.” Jack Boyd Is a very discouraging sort of scout.