“’Thar’s a young captain—­he ain’t more’n a boy—­who’s brought a troop of lancers along with us.  This boy Captain hails from some’ers up ‘round Waco, an’ thar ain’t a handsomer or braver in all Pres’dent Davis’s army.  This Captain—­whose name is Edson,—­an’ me, bein’ we-all is both young, works ourse’fs into a clost friendship for each other; I feels about him like he’s my brother.  Nacherally, over a camp fire an’ mebby a stray bottle an’ a piece of roast antelope, him an’ me confides about ourse’fs.  This Captain Edson back in Waco has got a old widow mother who’s some rich for Texas, an’ also thar’s a sweetheart he aims to marry when the war’s over an’ done.  I reckons him an’ me talks of that mother an’ sweetheart of his a hundred times.

“’It falls out that where we fords the Pecos we runs up on a Mexican Plaza—­the “Plaza Chico” they-all calls it—­an’ we camps thar by the river a week, givin’ our cattle a chance to roll an’ recooperate up on the grass an’ water.

“‘Then we goes p’intin’ out for the settin’ sun ag’in, allowin’ to strike the Rio Grande some’ers below Albuquerque.  Captain Edson, while we’re pesterin’ ’round at the Plaza Chico, attaches to his retinoo a Mexican boy; an’ as our boogles begins to sing an’ we lines out for that west’ard push, this yere boy rides along with Edson an’ the lancers.

“’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?”