bushes, and having little
skirmishes with the Spanish troops that looked more like kind of
tired-out feuds than anything else. The war was a joke to us, and
of no interest to them. We never could see it any other way than as
a howling farce-comedy that the San Augustine Rifles were actually
fighting to uphold the Stars and Stripes. And the blamed little
senors didn't get enough pay to make them care whether they were
patriots or traitors. Now and then somebody would get killed. It
seemed like a waste of life to me. I was at Coney Island when I went
to New York once, and one of them down-hill skidding apparatuses they
call 'roller-coasters' flew the track and killed a man in a brown
sack-suit. Whenever the Spaniards shot one of our men, it struck me
as just about as unnecessary and regrettable as that was.

"But I'm dropping Willie Robbins out of the conversation.

"He was out for bloodshed, laurels, ambition, medals, recommendations,
and all other forms of military glory. And he didn't seem to be
afraid of any of the recognized forms of military danger, such as
Spaniards, cannon-balls, canned beef, gunpowder, or nepotism. He went
forth with his pallid hair and china-blue eyes and ate up Spaniards
like you would sardines _a la canopy_. Wars and rumbles of wars never
flustered him. He would stand guard-duty, mosquitoes, hardtack,
treat, and fire with equally perfect unanimity. No blondes in history
ever come in comparison distance of him except the Jack of Diamonds
and Queen Catherine of Russia.

"I remember, one time, a little _caballard_ of Spanish men sauntered
out from behind a patch of sugar-cane and shot Bob Turner, the first
sergeant of our company, while we were eating dinner. As required
by the army regulations, we fellows went through the usual tactics
of falling into line, saluting the enemy, and loading and firing,
kneeling.

"That wasn't the Texas way of scrapping; but, being a very important
addendum and annex to the regular army, the San Augustine Rifles had
to conform to the red-tape system of getting even.

"By the time we had got out our 'Upton's Tactics,' turned to page
fifty-seven, said 'one--two--three--one--two--three' a couple of
times, and got blank cartridges into our Springfields, the Spanish
outfit had smiled repeatedly, rolled and lit cigarettes by squads, and
walked away contemptuously.

"I went straight to Captain Floyd, and says to him: 'Sam, I don't
think this war is a straight game