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felt that he had lived a life-time. After the performance he went down to the ring in a bewildered state. He wondered why his life did not run in the course of men who could do such things-these wonderful men who could perform the daring feats on the backs of horses. He imagined them to be some favored beings who were born on the planets and had ridden horses before they were able to walk.

A sadness came over him as he realized that he would never know their life, but would live and die at a sewing machine in a dark, damp shop.

He went around to the door of the basement to get a glimpse of the horses and the men who mastered them. He only hoped for a last look, a glance in which he should see things to treasure in his fancy for years.

A tall trooper guarded the door. He was dressed in tight-fitting riding breeches and leggings with a narrow yellow stripe down the leg.

"Can I go in to see the horses?" he ventured timidly.

The soldier looked at him. Isaac detected a kindly look in his eyes. "Orders to keep everybody out," said the guardian in blue.

"Please just to see the horses," pleaded Isaac.

"You like horses?"

"Yes, these kind of horseshorses that do things like them."

The cavalryman loved horsesso Isaac went inside. He could smell

damp leather and the burnt smell of girths. He saw the steaming horses being groomed by their riders, and noticed the loving touches of the troopers as they smoothed a damp flank or straightened a tangled mane.

There was the captain with a glittering sabre at his side, pacing up and down the line. The man moved about quickly, and in every movement there was grace and skill. Isaac observed that they were all

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"Hello, Ikey."

Isaac stared, and in an instant he recognized an old companion of the streets. It was Mickey Graw, the son of the Irishman who sold meat near the public school. He could hardly believe it. The fact that one of his chums in boyhood days, who had grown up with him and lived his life in the streets was now one of the "rough riders" was beyond his comprehension.

After much explaining and reiterations, Mickey finally convinced him that the men he saw doing wonderful things that night on the backs of horses never rode a horse until they joined the army-two, three or four years ago.

That young men were fed, clothed, housed and paid to learn to ride sounded like a fairy tale to Isaac. A fellow did not need to know anything about a horse-the less the better, said the voluble Mickey. Needed no money to go where the army was, and the army would teach these things, and while teaching pay the learner more than Isaac could earn in the shops.

Mickey took him. through the men's quarters in the dressing rooms and he saw the now free troop dressing and preparing to go out for the evening. These men laughed and joked, their snapped, they moved with the quick and graceful movements of a panther, their faces glowed with health and life was full of enjoyment for them, and free from care. Isaac

eyes

saw that these men were of different stuff than his companions in the sweat shops, who went about their work in silence, worked in silence, and returned to their homes in moody silence, only broken by a growl or an unkind reply. They were clean, their clothes were new, they had money to spend, they traveled and saw the world. And as Isaac saw these things he determined to leave the shops, with their roaring machines and become a man and live in the open air and sunlight.

Three days later he came home in the afternoon to the surprise of his mother. He wore a blue suit and a strange-looking cap, and over his shoulders was a yellow-lined blue cape. He did not look so straight and sleek as the men he saw at Madison Square, but he knew that all that would come later.

The tears of his mother brought a lump to his throat, and his crying sisters almost made him regret

his action. His father came home and saw with wondering eyes the uniform of blue.

The next morning he said goodbye, pulled his queer cap over his eyes and returned to the recruiting station, where he joined the draft of recruits and was shipped away to become a United States cavalryman.

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A burning sun hung over the narrow trail in the jungle. A column of dismounted cavalry was marching or rather squirming along, through the maze of vines and strong growths common to the jungles of Samar.

A hawk circled in the blue sky and watched the little brown dots as they followed the trail-now all together in a narrow, continuous line, now broken up into sections of two and threes, as some trooper found difficulty in making his way by some obstruction.

The advance guard of four men about a hundred yards ahead of the column stopped from time to time.

to wait until the head of the column came within sight or hearing, and then pushed on again, peering into the dense foliage on both sides of the trail.

The men had been in the field over two months. Their clothing was ragged and dirty, and their shoes were mere frames of leather. Their faces were thin and haggard and grown with beards. The only bright part of their equipments were the carbines, with shining bolts.

The dozen pack mules kept close up to the column, as was evident by the curses which could be heard from the packers, as a refractory mule tried to go back over the trail.

"

Isaac was among them, but his name was "Sheeny.' He was now a hardened veteran, but he was tired of service in the Philippines. He seldom growled, and then only when he remarked that he was a cavalryman-not a despised "dough boy" packing a carbine.

"Why don't they let us have our horses?" he asked. "I'm tired of this mud splashing-I could go in the infantry if I wanted to hike this way. This makes me tired."

"Shut up," said Corporal Graw. "What ye bonin' 'bout a horse fer all the time-poor little feet sore?"

"No," said Sheeny, "but I ain't seen a horse for two months, an' the Fourteenth have their horses an'" The remark ended in the mouth of a gurgling canteen.

The column stopped. The advance guard had come to the edge of the jungle, and one of the points came back to warn the captain not move forward until the ground ahead had been scouted.

to

"What's ahead?" asked Captain Stone.

The trooper saluted and replied: "The lieutenant says he would like to have the captain come up and see the country before advancing. There is a clearing and a hill ahead and Private Johnson says he saw two

niggers in the brush to the left front."

The captain went ahead and conferred with the lieutenant in command of the advance guard. A few minutes later the column moved out into the open and formed in fours while a scouting party went ahead to examine the country beyond the jungle.

Suddenly one of the men held up his carbine as a signal to halt, and the troop silently fell to cover. Another signal, and they advanced again cautiously.

There was a sharp report, and close after it the deadly rattle of a Colt's automatic gun in action, pumping a rain of bullets over the head of the company.

"Hell!" said the captain, as he recovered his breath after falling unceremoniously upon his stomach as he saw the trained troop drop in its tracks.

The whirr of the gun ceased, and there was a few minutes of silence as the men wriggled their bodies to see if they had been hit, and waited for a command.

"The gun is in that clump of bushes to the right center about 800 yards away," said the lieutenant, crawling up to the troop commander.

"We've got to take it," replied the captain, still on his stomach. "Blow 'rise,' trumpeter, and 'forward double time.'

The sharp, quick notes rang out, and the troop advanced in. perfect order at the double time, carbines at the "trail arms." Every man understood that there was to be a charge next, but there was no excitement. They moved forward at a slow trot, dressing on the center the same as if they were at dismounted drill back at Fort Myer behind the riding hall.

A dozen desultory shots were fired at them after the advance began, from the little ridge and clump

of bushes mentioned by the lieuten

ant.

Again the trumpet sounded, this time the swift music of the charge. The troopers missed the quick leaps of their horses under them as they rushed the slope. Once more they heard the dreaded "chug-chug-chug" of the rapid-fire gun, fired almost in their faces. The hail of bullets sweeping their front drove them back, and when the rattle of the machine gun ended there were intervals between the men on the skirmish line-longer intervals than is by drill regulations. prescribed by man had Nearly every alternate fallen near the crest of the slope, and the many brown splotches on the sun burned ridge showed where they had dropped under the deadly hail of lead.

The captain assembled his shattered troop under cover. He knew that the machine gun meant that the enemy was led by Bud Smith, the negro deserter from the Twentyfourth Infantry, who had gone over to the insurrectos with several discharged negro teamsters.

The hills ahead might conceal five hundred warriors, as the rapid-fire gun had done most of the damage, and there was little rifie fire from the bushes. Captain Stone was discussing the situation with his lieutenants and debating whether they should wait for the troop in the rear to come up and reinforce them, or make another dash to capture the gun.

Corporal Graw was watching the top of the ridge. He saw a blue shirt move and then a form rose up and disappeared into the bushes where the machine gun was located. He called the attention of the captain to the mysterious actions of the wounded man.

The next instant the form of Sheeny Cohen emerged from the bushes, and placing his hands to his mouth for a trumpet, he yelled: "Bring up some ammunition for the

saw that these men were of different stuff than his companions in the sweat shops, who went about their work in silence, worked in silence, and returned to their homes in moody silence, only broken by a growl or an unkind reply. They were clean, their clothes were new, they had money to spend, they traveled and saw the world. And as Isaac saw these things he determined to leave the shops, with their roaring machines and become a man and live in the open air and sunlight.

Three days later he came home in the afternoon to the surprise of his mother. He wore a blue suit and a strange-looking cap, and over his shoulders was a yellow-lined blue cape. He did not look so straight and sleek as the men he saw at Madison Square, but he knew that all that would come later.

The tears of his mother brought a lump to his throat, and his crying sisters almost made him regret

his action. His father came home and saw with wondering eyes the uniform of blue.

The next morning he said goodbye, pulled his queer cap over his eyes and returned to the recruiting station, where he joined the draft of recruits and was shipped away to become a United States cavalryman.

*

*

*

*

A burning sun hung over the narrow trail in the jungle. A column of dismounted cavalry was marching or rather squirming along, through the maze of vines of vines and strong growths common to the jungles of Samar.

A hawk circled in the blue sky and watched the little brown dots as they followed the trail-now all together in a narrow, continuous line, now broken up into sections of two and threes, as some trooper found difficulty in making his way by some obstruction.

The advance guard of four men about a hundred yards ahead of the column stopped from time to time.

to wait until the head of the column came within sight or hearing, and then pushed on again, peering into the dense foliage on both sides of the trail.

The men had been in the field

over two months. Their clothing was ragged and dirty, and their shoes were mere frames of leather. Their faces were thin and haggard and grown with beards. The only bright part of their equipments were the carbines, with shining bolts.

The dozen pack mules kept close up to the column, as was evident by the curses which could be heard from the packers, as a refractory mule tried to go back over the trail.

Isaac was among them, but his name was "Sheeny.' He was now a hardened veteran, but he was tired of service in the Philippines. He seldom growled, and then only when he remarked that he was a cavalryman-not a despised "dough boy" packing a carbine.

"Why don't they let us have our horses?" he asked. "I'm tired of this mud splashing-I could go in the infantry if I wanted to hike this. way. This makes me tired."

"Shut up," said Corporal Graw. "What ye bonin' 'bout a horse fer all the time-poor little feet sore?"

"No," said Sheeny, "but I ain't seen a horse for two months, an' the Fourteenth have their horses an'" The remark ended in the mouth of a gurgling canteen.

The column stopped. The advance guard had come to the edge of the jungle, and one of the points came back to warn the captain not move forward until the ground ahead had been scouted.

to

"What's ahead?" asked Captain Stone.

The trooper saluted and replied: "The lieutenant says he would like to have the captain come up and see the country before advancing. There is a clearing and a hill ahead and Private Johnson says he saw two

niggers in the brush to the left front."

The captain went ahead and conferred with the lieutenant in command of the advance guard. A few minutes later the column moved out into the open and formed in fours while a scouting party went ahead to examine the country beyond the jungle.

Suddenly one of the men held up his carbine as a signal to halt, and the troop silently fell to cover. Another signal, and they advanced again cautiously.

There was a sharp report, and close after it the deadly rattle of a Colt's automatic gun in action, pumping a rain of bullets over the head of the company.

"Hell!" said the captain, as he recovered his breath after falling unceremoniously upon his stomach as he saw the trained troop drop in its tracks.

The whirr of the gun ceased, and there was a few minutes of silence as the men wriggled their bodies to see if they had been hit, and waited

for a command.

"The gun is in that clump of bushes to the right center about 800 yards away," said the lieutenant, crawling up to the troop commander.

"We've got to take it," replied the captain, still on his stomach. "Blow 'rise,' trumpeter, and 'forward double time.''

The sharp, quick notes rang out, and the troop advanced in. perfect order at the double time, carbines at the "trail arms." Every man understood that there was to be a charge next, but there was no excitement. They moved forward at a slow trot, dressing on the center the same as if they were at dismounted drill back at Fort Myer behind the riding hall.

A dozen desultory shots were fired at them after the advance began, from the little ridge and clump

of bushes mentioned by the lieuten

ant.

Again the trumpet sounded, this time the swift music of the charge. The troopers missed the quick leaps of their horses under them as they rushed the slope. Once more they heard the dreaded "chug-chug-chug" of the rapid-fire gun, fired almost in their faces. The hail of bullets sweeping their front drove them back, and when the rattle of the machine gun ended there were intervals between the men on the skirmish line-longer intervals than is prescribed by drill regulations. Nearly every alternate man had fallen near the crest of the slope, and the many brown splotches on the sun burned ridge showed where they had dropped under the deadly hail of lead.

The captain assembled his shattered troop under cover. He knew that the machine gun meant that the enemy was led by Bud Smith, the negro deserter from the Twentyfourth Infantry, who had gone over to the insurrectos with several dis

charged negro teamsters.

The hills ahead might conceal five hundred warriors, as the rapid-fire gun had done most of the damage, and there was little rifie fire from the bushes. Captain Stone was discussing the situation with his lieutenants and debating whether they should wait for the troop in the rear to come up and reinforce them, or make another dash to capture the

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