That seems a long time ago. The regiment is famous now for its troop commanders,—stalwart fellows in the prime of life who have brought the training of men and mounts to a point of excellence such enthusiasts as Cranston only dreamed of in the old campaigning days, when there was little opportunity for experiment or practice in any other branch of the trooper's art than that developed on the trail of savage foe. Already the men who were stripling soldiers in '76 are wearing patriarchal—long since they assumed patronizing—airs towards those who came too late to learn campaigning when the Indian was not hemmed in by railways, but ruled the Plains, proud monarch of all he surveyed. Already silver threads are streaking the beards and temples of even such rollicking spirits as Sanders, while Boynton is gray as the chargers of the troop he commands. Cranston's squadron was cheered to the skies when it marched away from Chicago after its month of riot duty, and on the plains of Evanston during the manœuvres the visitors thronged to see the feats in horsemanship displayed by the men of Davies's troop. Even in the Eleventh he was held to be the most brilliant instructor as well as the most judicious and successful troop commander. Old-time dragoons simply couldn't understand it. Here was a man who would neither drink, swear, nor flare up and boil over when things went wrong on drill, but preserved a calm, even-tempered, dignified bearing at all times. True, he had native gifts which were not shared by all his kind,—a deep, resonant voice, a ringing word of command, a fine physique, an admirable seat, and an easy, practised hand, all of which were combined with a consummate knowledge of his art. He was equally at home in saddle or squad-room, and at all times was friend and almost father to his men. "A" Troop, once the worst-drilled in the Eleventh, and universally known as the "Differentials," is now called "the Parson's Flock," but there is no irreverence in the term, for soldiers honor men like him whose faith is backed by courage long tried on many a field. There isn't a man in Cranston's squadron who would not resent an affront to their pet troop commander, as they would were the major himself the object of aspersion, and as for Agatha, his wife,—Florence Nightingale was not more beloved.
They were talking of it all the other evening, seated among the tents on the broad, level prairie just before the separation for the winter stations was announced. The old chaplain was there to say farewell to his own stalwart son, now wearing his first shoulder-straps in the regiment his father had known so long and well. "Sometimes," said the dominie, "I look back almost wistfully on those old days with all their danger and privation, and while the life our fellows lead to-day knows little of the temptation and trial encountered twenty years ago, it seems to lack its vim and vigor. Sometimes I almost wish my boy could have begun—with you."
Davies was silent a moment. "It was a hard experience," said he, finally. "It seems odd to think that to some of us there was more peace on the war-path than at home, more rest in the field than in the fort. Perhaps the reason why one's sterner qualities were so constantly called into play was that not only in action but in all the surroundings of our daily life we seemed forever 'under fire.'"
THE END.
WORKS OF
Captain Charles King, U.S.A.
Under Fire. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.25.
The Colonel's Daughter. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.25.
Marion's Faith. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.25.
Captain Blake. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.25.
Foes In Ambush. Cloth, $1.25.
Kitty's Conquest. Cloth, $1.00.
Starlight Ranch, and Other Stories. Cloth, $1.00.
Laramie; or, The Queen of Bedlam. Cloth, $1.00.
The Deserter, and From The Ranks. Cloth, $1.00.
Two Soldiers, and Dunraven Ranch. Cloth, $1.00.
A Soldier's Secret, and An Army Portia. Cloth, $1.00.
Waring's Peril. Cloth, $1.00.