"'Our old war chief who has charge of our wanderin's is strictly stern
an' hard. An' I reckons now he's the last gent to go makin' soft
allowances for any warmth of yooth, or puttin' up with any primrose
paths of gentle dalliance, of any an' all who ever buckles on a set of
side arms. It thus befalls that when he discovers on the mornin' of
the second day that this Mexican boy is a Mexican girl, he goes ragin'
into the ambient air like a eagle.

"'The Old Man claps Edson onder arrest an' commands the girl to saddle
up an' go streakin' for the Plaza Chico. As it's only a slow day's
march an' as these Mexicans knows the country like a coyote, it's a
cinch the girl meets no harm an' runs no resks. But it serves to plant
the thorns of wrath in the heart of Captain Edson.

"'The Old Man makes him loose an' gives him back his lancers before
ever we rides half a day, but it don't work no mollifications with the
young Captain. He offers no remarks, bein' too good a soldier; but he
never speaks to the Old Man no more, except it's business.

"'"Joe," he says to me, as we rides along, or mebby after we're in camp
at night, "I'll never go back to Texas. I've been disgraced at the
head of my troop an' I'll take no sech record home."

"'"You oughter not talk that a-way, Ed," I'd say, tryin' to get his
sensibilities smoothed down. "If you don't care none for yourse'f or
for your footure, you-all should remember thar's something comin' to
the loved ones at home. Moreover, it's weak sayin' you-all ain't goin'
back to Texas. How be you goin' to he'p it, onless you piles up
shore-enough disgrace by desertin' them lancers of yours?"