in the blue board of the wagon he was not
convinced. Then with his jack-knife he dug it out and shouted with
pleasure. "I guess the folks will have to believe I was in a battle
now," he said. That coign of safety ceasing to be a coign of safety
caused us to move on in search of another, and I came upon Sergeant
Borrowe blocking the road with his dynamite gun. He and his brother and
three regulars were busily correcting a hitch in its mechanism. An
officer carrying an order along the line halted his sweating horse and
gazed at the strange gun with professional knowledge.

"That must be the dynamite gun I have heard so much about," he shouted.
Borrowe saluted and shouted assent. The officer, greatly interested,
forgot his errand.

"I'd like to see you fire it once," he said eagerly. Borrowe, delighted
at the chance to exhibit his toy to a professional soldier, beamed with
equal eagerness.

"In just a moment, sir," he said; "this shell seems to have jammed a
bit." The officer, for the first time seeing the shell stuck in the
breech, hurriedly gathered up his reins. He seemed to be losing
interest. With elaborate carelessness I began to edge off down the road.

"Wait," Borrowe begged; "we'll have it out in a minute."

Suddenly I heard the officer's voice raised wildly.

"What--what," he gasped, "is that man doing with that axe?"

"He's helping me to get out this shell," said Borrowe.

"Good God!" said the officer. Then he remembered his errand.

Until last year, when I again met young Borrowe gayly disporting himself
at a lawn-tennis tournament at Mattapoisett, I did not know whether his
brother's method of removing dynamite with an axe had been entirely
successful. He said it worked all right.

At the turn of the road I found Colonel Leonard Wood and a group of Rough
Riders, who were busily intrenching. At the same moment Stephen Crane
came up with "Jimmy" Hare, the man who has made the Russian-Japanese War
famous. Crane walked to the crest and stood there as sharply outlined as
a semaphore, observing the enemy's lines, and instantly bringing upon
himself and us the fire of many Mausers. With every one else, Wood was
crouched below the crest and shouted to Crane to lie down. Crane, still
standing, as though to get out of ear-shot, moved away, and Wood again
ordered him to lie down.

"You're drawing the fire on these men," Wood commanded. Although the
heat--it was the 1st of July in the tropics-