"DONALD G. STEWART, C.E.
"Supervisor in Charge
"Provinces Pagros Oriental y Occidental.
"SIR:—I have the honor to request that I do not be transferred to Luzon, because there are some jobs here which are not done yet."
His eyes lighted with whimsical amusement as he thought of those "jobs"; teaching a presidente how to be straight, teaching brown, monkeyish soldiers not to run away, teaching the children—
"The fact is, Mr. Stewart," he wrote with less formality, "that I cannot leave the school which the Dep. Super. Schools kindly gave me to occupy my time. I am the best teacher he has got now, I think. You can ask him."
Then formality returned:
"I have the honor to thank you for the kind words you say about me making good. Of course I know they are not so.
"Very respectfully,
"JOHN McGENNIS."
"There," said McGennis, looking down thankfully at his completed letter, for he hated letter-writing, did McGennis, "I reckon that cinches it. When the Old Man reads that, he'll sabe I'm loco enough to let alone. Anyway," he added, "Haskins'll never get the chance to blow about draining Manapla swamp. Haskins has got the education all right, but he couldn't make a bald monkey catch his own fleas."
As he entered his bedroom, holding his chimneyless lamp high that the reek of it might not draw into his nostrils, his eye lighted on the jagged post in the corner. "Well," said McGennis, looking at it, "she's all notched up for a couple of weeks, anyhow. I'm that much ahead." The boyish smile curled his firm young lips once more, as the fool part of him began to amuse the other parts. And then, contentedly, he turned to his canvas cot, with the heavy, blue-gray blankets spread upon it.
It is hard and narrow and monkish, that couch which the world provides for so many of her fighting men and pioneers, but to McGennis it seemed a Place of Rest.