de wastes south of Sutro Heights. Men who owned
overcoats were few and far between, so while the designated battalions
stood and shivered in the wet grass, the mass of spectators hovered
about in ponchos or wrapped in blankets, the down-turned brims of their
campaign hats dripping heavily and contributing much to the weird and
unmilitary look of the wearers. Officers had donned Mackintoshes and
heavy boots. Badges of rank, except in cases of those provided with the
regulation overcoat, were lost to sight. Only among the regulars and one
or two regiments made up from the National Guard were uniforms so
complete that in their foul-weather garb it was possible to distinguish
colonel from subaltern, staff sergeant from private.

In front of the guard-house at the Presidio a dozen cavalrymen armed
with the new carbine and dressed throughout for winter service, this
being San Francisco June, had formed ranks under command of a sergeant
and stood silently at ease awaiting the coming of the officer of the
day. The accurate fit of their warm overcoats, the cut of their trooper
trousers, the polish of their brasses and buttons, the snug, trim "set"
of their belts, all combined to tell the skilled observer that these
were regulars.

As such they were objects of interest and close scrutiny to the little
knots of volunteers who had sauntered in to pick up points. To the
former it looked odd and out of gear to see the forage-caps and broad
white stripes of commissioned officers mingling with the slouch hats and
ill-fitting nether garments of the rank and file.

It was too early in the campaign for "the boys" to have settled down to
realization of the subtle distinction between their status as soldiers
of the Nation and citizens of a sovereign State. To private A of the far
Westerners his company commander was still "Billy, old boy," or at best
"Cap.," save when actually in ranks and on drill or parade.

To the silently observant volunteer, on the other hand, it was just as
odd to note that when a gray-haired veteran sergeant, issuing from the
guard-house, caught sight of a trig, alert little fellow, with beardless
face and boyish features and keen, snapping dark eyes, hastening towards
him in the garb of a lieutenant of cavalry, the veteran was suddenly
transformed into a rigid statue in light blue, standing attention and at
the salute--a phenomenon that extracted from the infant officer only a
perfunctory touch of finger to cap v