Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 19, Number 91, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 July 1898 — THE SUBALTERN. [ARTICLE]

THE SUBALTERN.

By THEODORE ROBERTS.

THE DAY had been overcharged with sun and unfanned by any | (’wind; the white sand in the streets had attained to such a heat that people ■ moved across it hurriedly. But at eight o’clock a fresh breeze blew in from the bay. and Sandy McDuff bared his forheac) to it with a sigh of relief. -Sandy was sitting in front of the bead■quarters of one of the infantry regiments, talking with the colonel, twc captains and a subaltern. The camp ■was set up in a grove>of Florida pines. McDuff listened very attentively to <• -everything that the colonel and the • captains had to say; for these men i had smelled powder, felt steel and t heard the Indian war whoop. But he eclosed his ears to the sub. (who talked a great deal), and put him down as a ■windbag. Perhaps the reason for this was that Sandy was a scribbler, and felt that there was good copy in what the other men bad to say. He lit a Cuban cigarette, and mentioned the recent victory of the Amei can fleet over the Spanish. The sub slapped his knee and turned to the colonel. “By thunder, sir,” he exclaimed; •‘those fellows deserve all they get. It would give me keen pleasure to meet one face to face and shoot, him down like a dog.” The colonel looked at him for a few seconds without speaking. Then he said: “Mr. Brown, you may hate a man, and think nothing is too bad for him; but when you have had to kill one you will not consider it such a keen pleasure.” Brown did not reply to this, and the colonel seemed lost in somber thought, Sandy was rather pleased with what he considered the “sitting upon” of the young lieutenant. One of the dearest clauses of his philosophy was that the men who talk least about lighting are the ones who fight best. One of the captains, who had served in the cavalry against the Indians, told a story of a major of Irish extraction. “We were out on rather a rough •campaign, with this major in command,” he began. “Twenty-five friendly Blackfeet, hired as trailers anil scouts, were put in my charge. One night the major sent a note over to me which read something like this: ‘Send over six of your lazy Indians to do guard duty.’ 1 “I resented this term when applied to my owu men. so the first thing in the morning I went over with them myself. I saluted, reported the men • ready for duty, and then told the major that, first of all, my command was not crazy, and second, that they were here to act ns scouts and trailers, and knew nothing of regular military work. The major requested me to remember that we were a long way from the post and that he was my superior officer. I bowed, and returned to my own tent. Half an hour later those six Indians were back in their quarters. I returned with them immediately and tried to make excuses for them, saying again that they were unfit for sentry duty. The major was in a woeful rnge. “ ‘You say they are trailers,' he cried ; ‘then bring them over here double quick!* “He called to one of his men and ordered him to drive two stakes into the ground at a distance of about 200 yards from one another. Then the major gave a carbine to one of the redskins and told him to shoulder it. ‘Now, you red idiot,’ he said; ‘do you see this stake here and that stake over there?” “The man looked and grunted. “ 'All right; spend the next two hours trailing from this one to that one. See?' ’’ They tried to laugh nt the captain’* story, and then McDuff snid "Gonenight” and started back forthetown. At ttye hotel one of the regimental "bands was playing, and the grounds and the rotunda were gay with summer dresses nnd dapper uniforms. Sandy • seated himself in a quiet corner anil talked “war” with Billings, of the Exchange. “We will start for the island within ■even days.” snid Billings. “That's been the time ever since I came down here. Why don't you make It ten for a change?” replied McDuff. At that moment the band struck into “The Star Spangled Banner." and everyone arose. While standing thus McDuff noticed a familiar head and shoulders at the other side of the room, surrounded by attentive uniforms. Be left Billings and hurried across, nnd the stnlforms made way for him. The band played its last selection ■nd retired. The newspaper men drifted off to make copy for next day’s papers. The girl In white anti blue sat

on, and McDuff waved her fan. They talked like old friends, which means that sometimes they did not talk at all. Yet they had known each other only a week. McDuff talked about the north and she about the east. They discussed books and horses—the press and the army. “I saw young Brown, of the Tenth, to-night. What a lot he has to say about things he knows not of,” said McDuff. As the girl did not answer, he continued, telling of the “calldown” delivered by the colonel. She laughed—a little sadly. “The colonel knew that Mr. Brown would very soon have a chance to test his emotions,” she answered. McDuff smiled, feeling the freight of jiis war pass in his inside packet. “We all expect to get to Cuba inside two weeks," he said. The girl looked at her watch. “It is now 11 o’clock," she said. “At half-past 11 Lieut. Brown starts for Cuba on a tbg loaded with ammunition and rifles. He has 50 Cubans and a few of our regulars under him and will try hard to make a landing. You see, Mr. McDuff. that it is considered a talent in the army to be able to talk a great deal without telling anything.” Sandy had no reply ready for this statement. He wondered how she came to know it all. But he did not ask. He only remarked upon the lateness of the hour and went off toward his rooms in town.

Three evenings later McDuff returned from a hot ride and went up on to the second balcony to cool off. He unbuckled his leggings, pulled a cigar from one pocket and a newspaper from another and dropped into a steamer chair. The first thing he saw was an account of the landing of the tug Lilly on the Cuban coast, of a fierce fight with Spanish cavalry and of the heroic behavior of Lieut. H. C. Brown and his men. The report also said that a newspaper correspondent with the party had escaped rapture only through the bravery and skill of this same young Brown, who had freed the man, single-handed, from the clutches of three Spaniards. The enemy was defeated, the arms and ammunition safely landed, and even now the Lilly was on her return trip to Port Tampa. McDuff immediately refastened his leggings and went around to call on the girl in white and blue. He found her in a rustic chair, under a clump of yellow-stemmed bamboo. He -took back all the evil he had said and thought of Brown, and then praised him highly. “He was more successful on both his other expeditions of the same kind,” she replied. "They’ never had to fire a shot before.”

McDuff was painfully surprised. “Why didn’t he tell me that he had been landing Cubans ever since the declaration of war?” he groaned. A week went by and Sfill the troops were not ordered on board the transports. and still the war correspondents waited for the countersigning of their passes. McDuff grew tired of rushing about all day asking people what they knew, so he decided to lie low and do some work. He found that if he tried to write during the day he lost too much flesh, and at night he was nearly killed by divers insects. So he turned out a few hundred words every morning before breakfast, and spent the rest of his day reading W. Clark Russell’s icy novel, “The Frozen Pirate.” This and an outfit of white duck clothing kept him fairly cool. One night, much to his surprise, he received a call from Second Lieut. Brown. As they shook hands he noticed an expression on his visitor's face —a shadow’ about the eyes which had not l»een there at their last meeting. They sat down, and McDuff spoke about Brown’s rescue of the war correspondent. “Yes,” replied the officer, “it mode a good newspaper story; but I am sorry it came in my’ way. Remember what the colonel said the other night about killing a man? Well, the colonel was right. One of the three fellows who had hold of the correspondent was a young captain—a man who had received his education in America. He and I were very close friends once. About five years ago he went Home to Spain, and last week I shot him while he vvfrs looking straight into my eyes—just beginning to recognize me. The man I rescued wasn’t worth that, I think.” Then Brown put hls face in his hands and cursed the necessity of war.—N. Y. Independent.