People's Pilot, Volume 3, Number 7, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 August 1893 — WARING'S PERIL. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

WARING'S PERIL.

Cap; Chawuws kimcj. ]) yßYEjßjija X w-S-armyA .[Copyright, 1898, by 3. B. Lippincott & Co,, and published by special arrangement] I.— Continued. * 'Boots and saddles” had sounded at the artillery barracks. Mr. Pierce, as battery officer of the day, had clattered off through the north gateway. The battery had marched with dancing plumes and clanking sabers out to the stables and gun-shed. The horses of Lieuts. Doyle and Ferry were waiting for their riders underneath the gallery of their quarters. Capt. Cram, in much ■state, followed by his orderly bugler «nd guidon-bearer, all in full uniform, was riding slowly down the sunny side of the garrison, and at sight of him Doyle and Ferry, who were leisurely pulling on their gauntlets in front of their respective doors, hooked up their sabers and came clattering down their •stairway; but no Waring had appeared. There, across the parade on the southern side, the bay colt, caparisoned) in Waring’s unimpeachable horse-equip-ments, was being led up and down in the shade of the quarters, Mr. Pierce’s boy Jim officiating as groom, while his •confrere Ananias, out of sight, was at the moment on his knees fastening the «trap of his master’s riding-trousers

underneath the dainty gaiter boot, Mr. "Waring the while surveying the proceeding over the rim of his coffee-cup. “Dar, suh. Now into de coat, quick! Yahnduh goes Capt. Cram.” ‘‘Ananias, how often have I told you •that, howsoever necessary it might be lor you to hurry, I never do? It’s unbecoming an officer and a gentleman to hurry, sir.” “But you’s got to inspect yo’ section, •suh, befo’ you can repote to Capt. Cram. Please hurry wid de sash, suh.” And, holding the belt extended with both hands, Ananias stood eager to clasp it around Waring’s slender waist, but the lieutenant waved him away. “Get thee behind me, imp of Satan! Would you have me neglect one of the foremost articles of an artilleryman’s laith? Never, sir! If there were a wrinkle in that sash it would cut a chasm in my reputation, sir.” And, so ■saying, he stepped to the open doorway, threw the heavy tassel over and around the knob, kissed his hand jauntily to his battery commander, now riding down the opposite side of the parade, backed deliberately away the full length of the sash across the room, then, humming a favorite snatch from “Faust,” deliberately wound him--self into the bright crimson web, and, making a broat flat loop near the farther end and without stopping his song, nodded coolly to Ananias to come •on with the belt. In the same calm and deliberate fashion he finished his military toilet, set his shako well forward on his forehead, the chin-strap hanging just below the under lip, pulled on the buff gauntlets, surveyed himself critically and leisurely in the glass, and theiz began slowly’ to descend the stairs “Wait—jus’ one moment,please,suh,” implored Ananias, hastening after him. "Jus’ happened to think of it, suh: Capt. Cram’s wearin’ gloves dis mawnin’.” “Ah! So much the more chance to come back here in ten minutes. Whoa, coltikins; how are you this morning, sir? Think you could run away if 1 to pretty hard? You’ll try, won’t you, old boy?” said Waring, stroking the glossy neck of the impatient bay. “Now, Jim, let go. Never aMow anybody to hold a horse •for you when you mount. That's

highly unprofessional, sir. That’ll do.” And, so saying, he swung himself into the saddle, and, checking the bounds of his excited colt, rode calmly away to join the battery.} Already the bandsmen were marching through the north gate on the way to the broad open field in which the maneuvers were held. The adjutant, sergeant-major, and markers were following. Just outside the gate the post commander was seated on horseback, and Cram had reined in to speak with him. Now, in his blithest, cheeriest tones, Waring accosted them, raising his hand in salute as he did so: “Good morning, colonel. Good morning, Capt. Cram. We’re in-luck to-day. Couldn’t possibly have lovelier weather. I’m only sorry this came off so suddenly and I hadn’t time to invite our friends out from town. They would have been so pleased to see the battalion—the ceremonies.” “H‘m! There was plenty of time if you’d returned to the post at retreat yesterday, sir,” growled old Braxton. “Everybody was notified who was ■ here then. What time did you get back, sir?” “Upon my word, colonel, I don’t know. I never thought to look or inquire; but it was long after taps. Pardon me, though, I see I’m late inspecting.” And in a moment he was riding quietly around among his teams and guns, narrowly scrutinizing each toggle, trace and strap before taking station midway between his lead drivers, and then, as Cram approached, reporting: “Left section ready, sir.” Meantime, the infantry companies were marching out through the gate and then ordering arms and resting until adjutant’s call should sound. Drivers and cannoneers were dismounted to await the formation of the battalion line. Waring rode forward and in the most jovial off-hand way began telling Cram of the incidents of tbe previous day and his sight-seeing with the party of visitors from the north. “By the way, I promised Mr. Allerton that they should see that team of yours before they left; so, if you’ve no objection, the first morning you’re on duty and can’t go up, I’ll take advantage of your invitation and drive Miss Allerton myself. Doesn’t that court adjourn this week?” “I’m afraid not,” said Cram, grimly. “It looks as though we’d have to sit to-day and to-morrow both.” “Well, that’s too bad! They all want to meet you again. Couldn’t you come up this evening after stables? Hello! ' this won’t do; our infantry friends will i be criticising us; I see you’re wearing gloves and I’m in gauntlet*. So is

Doyle. We can’t fit him out, I’m afraid, but I’ve just got some from New York exactly like yours. I’ll trot back while we’re waiting, if you don’t object, and change them.” Cram didn’t want to say yes, yet didn’t like to say no. He hesitated, and —was lost. In another moment, as though never imagining refusal was possible, Waring had quickly ridden away through the gate and disappeared behind the high brick wall. When the bugle sounded “mount,” three minutes later, and the battery broke into column of pieces to march away to the maneuvering grounds, Mr. Ferry left the line of caissons and took command of the rear section. All that the battery saw of Waring or his mount the rest of the morning was just after reaching the line, when the fiery colt came tearing riderless around the field, joyfully dodging every attempt of the spectators to catch him, and reveling in the delight of kicking up his heels and showing off in the presence and sight of his •nvious friends in harness. Plunge though they might, the horses could not join; dodge though they might the bipeds could not catch him. Review, inspection, and the long ceremonials of the morning went off without the junior first lieutenant of Battery X, who, for his part, went off without ceremony of any kind, Cram’s stylish team and wagon with him. That afternoon he reappeared driving about the barrack square, a pretty girl at his side, both engrossed in the music of the band and apparently oblivious of the bot-tled-up wrath of either battery or post commander. “Be gorra!” said Doyle, “I’d like to be in his place now, provided I didn’t have to be in it to-morrow.” But when the morrow came there was no Waring with it. IL For twenty-four hours old Brax had been mad as a hornet. He was not much of a drill-master or tactician, but he thought he was, and it delighted him to put his battalion through the form of review, the commands for which he had memorized thoroughly and delivered with resonant voice and with all proper emphasis. ' What he did not fancy, and indeed could not do, was the drudge- work of teaching the

minutiae of the school of the battalion, explaining each movement before undertaking its execution. This was a matter he delegated to one of his senior captains. For a week, therefore, in preparation for a possible visit on the part of the new brigadier general or nis inspector, the six companies of the regiment stationed at the post had been fairly well schooled in the ceremonies of review and parade, and so long as nothing more was required of them than a march past in quick time and a ten minutes’ stand in line all might go well. The general had unexpectedly appeared one* evening with only a single aide-de-camp, simply, as he explained, to return the calls of the officers of the garrison, six or eight of whom had known enough to present themselves and pay their respects in person when he arrived in town. Braxton swelled with gratified pride at the general's praise of the spick-span condition of the parade, the walks, roads and visible quarters. But it was the very first old-time garrison the new chief had ever seen, a splendid fighting record with the volunteers during the war, and the advantage of taking sides for the union from a doubtful state, having conspired to win him a star in the regular service only a year or two before. “We would have had out the battery and given you a salute, sir,” said Brax, “had we known you were coming; but it’s after retreat now. Next time, general, if you’ll ride down some day, I’ll be proud to give you a review of the whole command. We have a great big field back here." And the general had promised to come. This necessitated combined preparation, hence the order for full dress rehearsal with battery and all, and then came confusion. Fresh from the command of his beautiful horse battery and the dashing service with a cavalry division, Cram hated the idea of limping along, as he expressed it, behind a battalion of foot, and said so, and somebody told Brax he had said so, — more ihan one somebody, probably, for Brax had many an adviser to keep him in trouble. The order that Cram should appear for instruction in review of infantry and artillery combined gave umbrage to the battery commander, and his reported remarks thereupon, renewed cause for displeasure to his garrison chief. “So far as we’re concerned,” said Cram, who wanted to utilize the good weather for battery drill, “we need no instruction, as we have done the trick time and again before; and if we hadn’t, who in the bloody Fifty-first is there to teach us? Certainly not old Brax.” All the same the order was obeyed, and Cram started out that loveliest of lovely spring mornings not entirely innocent of tie conviction that he and his fellows were going to have some fun out of the thing befdre they got through with it. Not that he purposed putting any hitch or impediment in the way. He meant to do just exactly as he was bid; and so, when adjutant’s call had sounded and the blue lines of the infantry were well out on the field, he followed in glittering column of pieces, his satin-coated horses dancing in sheer exuberance of spirits and his red-crested cannoneers sitting with folded arms, erect and statuesque, upon the ammunition-chests. Mrs. Cram, in her pretty basket phaeton, with Mrs. Lawrence,of the infantry,and several of the ladies of the garrison in ambulances or afoot, had taken station well to the front of the forming line. Then it became apparent that old Brax purposed to figure as the reviewing officer and had delegated Maj. Minor to command the troops. Now, Minor had been on mustering and disbursing duty most of the war, had never figured in a review with artillery before, and knew no more about battery tactics than Cram did of diplomacy. Mounted on a sedate old sorrel, borrowed from the quartermaster for the occasion, with an antiquated, brass-bound Jenifer saddle, minus breast-strap and housings of any kind, but equipped with his better half’s brown leather bridle, Minor knew perfectly well he was only a guy, and felt indignant at Brax for putting him in so false a plight. He took his station, however, in front of the regimental colors, without stopping to think where the center of the line might be after the battery came, and there awaited further developments. Cram kept nobody waiting, however; his leading team was close at the nimble heels of £apt. Lawrence’s company as it marched gayly forth to the music of the band. He formed sections at the tyot the instant the ground was clear, then wheeled into line, passed well to the rear of the prolongation of the infantry rank, and by a beautiful countermarch came up to the front and halted exactly at the instant that Lawrence, with the left flank company, reached his post, each caisson accurately in trace of its piece, each team and carriage exactly at its proper interval, and, with his crimson silk guidon on the right flank and little Pierce signaling “up” or “back” from a point outside where he could verify the alignment of the gunwheels on the rank of the infantry, Cram was able to command “front” before little Drake, the adjutant, should have piped oat his shrill “Guides posts.” But Drake didn’t pipe. There stood all the companies at support, each captain at the inner flank, and the guides with their inverted muskets still stolidly gazing along the line. It was time for him to pipe, but instead of so doing there he stuck at the extreme right, glaring down towards the now immovable battery and its serene commander, and the little adjutant’s face was getting redder and puffier every minute. “Go ahead! What are you waiting for?" hoarsely whispered the senior captain.

• "Waiting for the battery to dress,” was the stanch reply. Then aloud the shrill voice swept down the line: “Dress that battery to the right!” Cram looked over a glittering shoulder to the right of the line, where stood the diminutive infantryman.

The battery had still its war allowance of horses—three teams to each carriage, lead, swing and wheel—and that brought its captain far out to the front of the somber blue rank of foot; so far out, in fact, that he was about on line with Maj. Minor, though facing in opposite direction. Perfectly confident that he was exactly where he should be, yet equally determined to abide by any order he might receive, even though he fully understood the cause of Drake’s delay, Cram promptly rode over to the guidon and ordered “right dress,” at which every driver's head and eyes were promptly turned, but not an inch of a wheel, for the alignment simply could not be improved. Then after commanding “front” the captain as deliberately trotted back to his post without so much as a glance at the irate staff officer. It was just at this juncture that the bay colt came tearing down the field, his mane and tail streaming in the breeze, his reins and stirrups dangling. In the course of his gyrations about the battery and the sympathetic plunging of the teams some slight disarrangement occurred. But when he presently decided on a rush for the stables, the captain reestablished the alignment as coolly as before, and only noticed as he resumed his post that the basket phaeton and Mrs. Cram had gone. Alarmed, possibly, by the nonappearance of her warm friend Mr. Waring and the excited gambolings of his vagrant steed, she had promptly driven back to the main garrison to see if any accident had occurred, the colt meantime amusing himself in a game of fast-and-loose with the stable guard. [TO BE CONTINUED.]

“NOW, JIM, LET GO.”