In reply came the low, mourner’s-bench, meek voice of a South Carolina recruit: “It hain’t a cigaroot, Sergeant; it’s a lightnin’-bug as big as a search-light on ’Pin-Head’ Hebb’s mustache.”
The undaunted Kelley was not to be beaten thus, but sternly commanded: “I don’t give a dom what ’tis, put it out.”
“I don’t give a dom what ’tis, put it out.”
How I Saw Aguinaldo.
An Army Officer’s Curious Experience in Luzon.—A Tight Place and a Close Call.
It was during the early part of the month of June that my company was doing outpost duty on the north line at San Fernando, one of the largest inland towns on the Island of Luzon. We had been on the south line, but on the morning on which this incident took place, were directed to relieve a company of another battalion of the same regiment on the north line.
Our arrival at the outpost was very early in the morning; so early that it was impossible to distinguish a man from a high stump at a distance of 100 feet. The lay of the land was new to me; I hadn’t the slightest idea of the contour of a foot of the ground to be covered by my company. After getting my men properly stationed along the line, guarding a front of about 1700 or 1800 yards, I took an old, reliable sergeant with me and proceeded to reconnoiter the territory to my front, and to make a rough sketch map, showing on it what I could of the Filipino trenches and their outposts.