s it is
always blown over the grave of a soldier or an officer, after the coffin
has been lowered into the earth. The soldier-musicians who blow the
calls, seem to love the call of "taps," (strangely enough) and I
remember well that there at Camp MacDowell, we all used to go out and
listen when "taps went," as the soldier who blew it, seemed to put a
whole world of sorrow into it, turning to the four points of the compass
and letting its clear tones tremble through the air, away off across the
Maricopa desert and then toward the East, our home so faraway. We never
spoke, we just listened, and who can tell the thoughts that each one
had in his mind? Church nor ministers nor priests had we there in
those distant lands, but can we say that our lives were wholly without
religion?

The Sunday inspection of men and barracks, which was performed with
much precision and formality, and often in full dress uniform, gave us
something by which we could mark the weeks, as they slipped along. There
was no religious service of any kind, as Uncle Sam did not seem to think
that the souls of us people in the outposts needed looking after. It
would have afforded much comfort to the Roman Catholics had there been a
priest stationed there.

The only sermon I ever heard in old Camp MacDowell was delivered by
a Mormon Bishop and was of a rather preposterous nature, neither
instructive nor edifying. But the good Catholics read their prayer-books
at home, and the rest of us almost forgot that such organizations as
churches existed.

Another bright winter found us still gazing at the Four Peaks of the
MacDowell Mountains, the only landmark on the horizon. I was glad, in
those days, that I had not staid back East, for the life of an officer
without his family, in those drear places, is indeed a blank and empty
one.

"Four years I have sat here and looked at the Four Peaks," said Captain
Corliss, one day, "and I'm getting almighty tired of it."

CHAPTER XXVI. A SUDDEN ORDER

In June, 1878, Jack was ordered to report to the commanding officer at
Fort Lowell (near the ancient city of Tucson), to act as Quartermaster
and Commissary at that post. This was a sudden and totally unexpected
order. It was indeed hard, and it seemed to me cruel. For our regiment
had been four years in the Territory, and we were reasonably sure of
being ordered out before long. Tucson lay far to the south of us, and
was even hotter than this place. But there wa