III. The Vibrations Spread
And what did the afflicted Leonidas do now? Sunday’s anthem was dashed from his mind. They waited for him, but he never came back, nor was the melodeon again played by Sister Stone. Leonidas, without waiting to brush off anything, hastened to his own troop commander, told of the insult to American manhood and displayed the grievous traces upon his trousers. When his captain found that he was not demented, he meditated briefly and spoke.
“Bateau, this is unfortunate, but it seems to me out of military cognizance.”
Leonidas mentioned the Secretary of War for the third or fourth time, and asked permission to complain to the post commander.
“Think this over for a day,” said his troop commander, “and I’ll see Captain Stone.” On the next day he resumed, “Captain Stone confirms every statement that you make, except—er—the distance.”
“It was ovah the gate,” repeated Leonidas. “But I would feel just the same if it was not.”
The troop commander was wise. “Very well. You have my permission to make your complaint.”
Private Bateau stated his case in the Adjutant’s office at Fort Chiricahua. The post commander duly investigated the affair, and private Bateau was duly informed that his complaint was deemed out of military cognizance. Private Bateau, thoroughly booked on the machinery, now appealed to the Department Commander. He called in no clerk to draft his grievance for him; with Cousin Xerxes to help, he wrote:
“Fort Chiricahua, A. T., Nov. 30, 188-.
“The Adjutant-General, Department of Arizona,
Whipple Barracks, A. T. (Through Military
Channels.)
“Sir.—For the information of the commanding general of the department, I wish to report Captain Joshua Stone of E Troop 4th Cavalry for using brutal conduct toward me at 5 p.m. 26th inst., at witch hour he insulted me with his foot behaiving like no officer and gentleman in a way I will not rite down. All I did was bring word our choir was waiting for Mrs. Stone to play like she always done on the melodeum for church practiss wensday afternoons and saturday nights.”
“Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
“Leonidas Bateau Private, Troop I, 4th Cav’y.”
This document Leonidas handed to the first sergeant of his troop, who took it with the daily morning report to the captain, who indorsed it, “Respectfully forwarded to the Adjutant-General Department of Arizona (through Post Commander). The facts in this case are as follows,” etc., and duly signed the indorsement, and forwarded it the next day to the Post Commander, who indorsed it, “Respectfully forwarded to the Adjutant-General Department of Arizona, Whipple Barracks, A. T. I find upon investigation,” etc, “and I have cautioned Private Leonidas Bateau that he ought to be more guarded in his language when referring to an officer’s wife, and I recommend that no further action be taken in this case.”
Do you perceive the wheels beginning to go round? The letter of Leonidas, thus twice indorsed and signed by the captain of his troop and the colonel commanding Fort Chiricahua, now flew forth and upward, directing its course duly to the headquarters of the Department of Arizona, and even while it was upon its way, a new song was heard among the enlisted men on all sides at the post. It was fitted to the tune of “Stables,” its author was unknown, and it went something like this:
SAY, have you seen my sister?
I GUESS that I must have missed her,
I’ll SHOW you a handsome blister, etc.
It went something like that (sing it and you will see how glove-like it fits the tune), and it contributed nothing to the happiness of Leonidas; but it made him glad that nobody save Cousin Xerxes knew of the long, long letter which he had written to the Secretary of War and mailed outside the post.
And now the wheels began to turn at Whipple Barracks while Private Bateau was waiting for the Secretary of War to answer his private letter, and stand behind him. The Department Commander knew all about the Secretary of War; moreover, he was enlightened concerning this case by his favorite staff-officer, Lieutenant Jimmy St. Michael, of Kings Port, South Carolina. Jimmy received from a brother lieutenant at Fort Chiricahua an intimate and spirited account of the whole deplorable misadventure, describing Gwendolen at length, and Captain Stone at length, and the melodeon, and the choir practices, not omitting a sketch of Leonidas and Cousin Xerxes. This letter kept the young officers up until past midnight, for Jimmy gave them a choir practice upon his banjo, impersonating now Sistah Stone and now Leonidas. But, as I have said, the Commanding General of the Department knew the Secretary of War and therefore deemed a plentiful investigation into the affairs of Leonidas the wisest course. He would not accept the views of the post commander, as was his usual habit; there must be an inspector. Now his Inspector-General was off inspecting something at Fort Apache; and so, that time should not be lost, he summoned Jimmy St. Michael and directed him to proceed to Fort Chiricahua. Jimmy departed with a valise, a letter official to the colonel, a message unofficial to the same officer, and his banjo, which he rarely left behind him. With the solemnity proper to all inspectors, he arrived upon the scene of the tragedy, and not even the joy of the club could unbend him. He was implored to give at least “But he didn’t saw the wood,” that song which had left a trail of gayety from Klamath and Bidwell to Meade and San Carlos. Jimmy remained deaf to everything but duty. His slim figure became every inch an inspector, his neat hair was severe, his black eyes almost funereal. He made many inquiries, he investigated everybody, and he seldom uttered any longer comment than “H’m, h’m!” He knew how rare it is for an inspector to say more than this.
His old friends would have thought him engaged to be married or otherwise grievously changed for the worse, had he not, on the night his mission was ended, taken the cover off his banjo. He gave the second entirely original poem which the misfortunes of Leonidas had inspired. He sang it to a tune heard in a popular play, and here it is:
Of War I am the popular Secretaree—O.
I am the popularest man in all the show.
There were one or two or three
More popular than me
Till I received my portofolee—O.
George Washington, they say, was popular long ago.
His name to-day is sometimes mentioned still, I know.
But where d’you think he’ll be
If he’s compared with me,
When I resign my portofolee—O?
The very day that I into the White House go
My friends shall see my gratitude is never slow;
And chief of all their clan
Shall be the enlisted man,
For he shall have my portofolee—O!
Even Joshua smiled, and Joshua was a solemn man, not to speak of his delicate position regarding Leonidas. He sat up late, drank to the health of Jimmy St. Michael, and remarked that he doubted if Jimmy felt any younger than he did.
But the hour for poor Leonidas to smile had not yet come. There was silence most unaccountable from the Secretary of War, and the encouragement given by having an inspector come several hundred miles received presently a rude shock.
Jimmy St. Michael returned to Whipple Barracks and made a carefully solemn report to the Commanding General; but at the end of it, seeing that the Commanding General’s solemnity was less careful, he ceased to be an inspector, and said with his engaging Kings Port accent:
“General, did you ever put sugar on a raw oyster and try to swallow it?”
“It can’t be done!” declared the General. “I’ve known that since I was at the Military Academy.”
“It can be done, sir, if you will pardon my contradicting you. I did it myself on a bet at the Military Academy.”
“Good Lord!” said the General. “What was it like?”
“I realized, sir, that the combination does not belong in Nature’s plan, any more than mixing politics with the United States Army.”
“Ha, ha!” went the General. “Ha, ha! Not in Nature’s plan!” And he proceeded to drop the necessary lemon-juice upon the Secretary’s luckless raw oyster.
To poor Leonidas’s original letter was now added a third duly dated indorsement: “Respectfully returned to the commanding officer, Fort Chiricahua, A. T. The Commanding General approves of your action in this case. The provoking speech of Priv’t Leonidas Bateau, Troop I, 4th Cav’y, on the occasion of his visiting the quarters of his troop commander being considered sufficient grounds for the harsh treatment administered.” This, with the signature of the Assistant Adjutant-General, arrived at Fort Chiricahua, and was followed by a fourth indorsement dated there and signed by the Post Adjutant: “Respectfully returned to the commanding officer, Troop I, 4th Cav’y, inviting attention to the 2d and 3d indorsements hereon, the contents of which will be communicated to Pvt. Leonidas Bateau, Troop I, 4th Cav. By order of,” etc.
The wheels of redress had turned, all the wheels, and ground out nothing. His troop commander sent for Leonidas and read him the indorsements. Leonidas, being instructed by a “guard-house lawyer,” demanded his papers, which were delivered to him, as was his right. These now went with his appeal to Washington. For Leonidas had written home to Sistah Smith, who had written to a Congressman, who had replied that he was ever for justice. Thus, with a long new letter from Leonidas to the Secretary of War (whose silence still remained unaccountable), did official tidings of the outrage to American manhood at length, through the Adjutant General’s Department, come to the man of the “portofolee—O.”
Buttons were pressed and clerks despatched with messages; and there ensued a conference between the Congressman, the Adjutant-General, the Secretary of War, and the Lieutenant-General himself. The Congressman stated the case; the Secretary was quite uneasy, and talked a great deal, taking care not to express a single idea; but the Lieutenant-General was quite easy and talked only thus much:
“Called her his sister? Got kicked? I should think so!”
“General, this is good in you to help us,” said the Secretary, with symptoms of relief. “I did not wish to reach this conclusion without your corroboration.”
Thus ended the conference. The original letter of Leonidas with its four indorsements pasted on it, and making quite a budget, now started its return course bearing a fifth indorsement containing the Secretary of War’s opinion signed by one of the Assistant Adjutants-General. It travelled through the back channels that you know, passing Whipple Barracks and reaching the hungry, unsated Leonidas many weeks after all traces had vanished from his trousers. During these weeks his life had been made a sorry thing by that song about the blister. Not even the sympathy of Cousin Xerxes could sweeten his embittered days. They were wholesome for him, to be sure; they began to cure him of being a watermelon; they even gave him gradually a just estimate of the Secretary’s speech at McPherson, and he grew into a strapping young trooper with many of the trooper’s habits in moderation. The only profane language that he used was in connection with the Secretary of War, whose tricky official language in his indorsement had utterly dodged his promise to stand behind him. But Leonidas could not comfortably live in a place where everybody remembered how he had (as Jones put it) “run around showing his pants.” He took his discharge at the first opportunity, and became an eminent cow-boy in the neighborhood, with a man’s full strength in his sinews, and a man’s anger silent in his heart. The hour for him to smile had not yet come.