“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: