University of Virginia Library

I.

CASPER CADOGAN resolved to go to the tropic wars and do something. The air was blue and gold with the pomp of soldiering, and in every ear rang the music of military glory. Casper's father was a United States senator, from the great state of Skowmulligan, where the war fever ran very high. Chill is the blood of many of the sons of millionaires, but Casper took the fever and posted to Washington. His father had never denied him anything, and this time all that Casper wanted was a little captaincy in the army, just a simple little captaincy.

The old man had just been entertaining a delegation of respectable bunco-steerers from Skowmulligan, who had come to him on a matter which is none of the public's business. Bottles of whisky and boxes of cigars were still on the table in the sumptuous private parlour. The senator had said, 'Well, gentlemen, I'll do what I can for you.' By this sentence he meant whatever he meant.

Then he turned to his eager son. 'Well, Casper?' The youth poured out his modest desires. It was not altogether his fault. Life had taught him a generous faith in his own abilities. If any one had told him that he was an ordinary damned fool, he would have opened his eyes wide at the person's lack of judgment. All his life people had admired him.

The Skowmulligan war-horse looked with quick disapproval into the eyes of his son. 'Well, Casper,' he said slowly, 'I am of the opinion that they've got all the golf experts and tennis champions, and cotillion leaders, and piano tuners, and billiard markers they really need as officers. Now, if you were a soldier—'

'I know,' said the young man, with a gesture, 'but I'm not exactly a fool, I hope, and I think if I get a chance, I can do something. I'd like to try, I would indeed.'

The senator drank a neat whisky and lit a cigar. He

assumed an attitude of ponderous reflection. 'Y-yes; but this country is full of young men who are not fools. Full of 'em.'

Casper fidgeted in the desire to answer that while he admitted the profusion of young men who were not fools, he felt that he himself possessed interesting and peculiar qualifications which would allow him to make his mark in any field of effort which he seriously challenged. But he did not make this graceful statement, because he sometimes detected something ironic in his father's temperament. The Skowmulligan war-horse had not thought of expressing an opinion of his own ability since the year 1865, when he was young like Casper.

'Well, well,' said the senator finally, 'I'll see about it—I'll see about it.' The young man was obliged to await the end of his father's characteristic method of thought. The war-horse never gave a quick answer, and if people tried to hurry him, they seemed able to arouse in him only a feeling of irritation against making a decision at all. His mind moved like the wind, but practice had placed a Mexican bit in the mouth of his judgment. This old man of light quick thought had taught himself to move like an ox-cart. Casper said, 'Yes, sir.' He withdrew to his club, where, to the affectionate inquiries of some envious friends, he replied, 'The old man is letting the idea soak.'

The mind of the war-horse was decided far sooner than Casper expected. In Washington a large number of well-bred handsome young men were receiving appointments as lieutenants, as captains, and occasionally as majors. They were a strong, healthy, clean-eyed, educated collection. They were a prime lot. A German field-marshal would have beamed with joy if he could have seen them—to send to school. Anywhere in the world they would have made a grand show as material, but, intrinsically, they were not lieutenants, captains, and majors. They were fine men. Individual to individual, American manhood overmatches the best in Europe; but manhood is only an essential part of a lieutenant, a captain, or a major. But at any rate it had all the logic of going to sea in a bathing-machine.

The senator found himself reasoning that Casper was as good as any of them, and better than many. Presently he was bleating here and there that his boy should have a chance. 'The boy's all right, I tell you, Henery. He's wild to go, and I don't see why they shouldn't give him a show. He's got plenty of nerve, and he's keen as a whip-lash. I'm going to get him an appointment

and if you can do anything to help it along, I wish you would.' Then he betook himself to the White House and the War Department and made a stir. People think that administrations are always slavishly, abominably anxious to please the machine. They are not; they wish the machine sunk in red fire, for by the power of ten thousand past words, looks, gestures, writings, the machine comes along and takes the administration by the nose and twists it, and the administration does not even yell. The huge force which carries an election to success looks reproachfully at the administration, and says, 'Give me a penny!' That is a very small amount with which to reward a colossus.

The Skowmulligan war-horse got his penny and took it to his hotel, where Casper was moodily reading war-rumours. 'Well, my boy, here you are.' Casper was a captain and commissary on the staff of Brigade-General Reilly, Commander of the Second Brigade of the First Division of the Thirtieth Army Corps. 'I had to work for it,' said the senator grimly. 'They talked to me as if they thought you were some sort of empty-headed idiot. None of 'em seemed to know you personally. They just sort of took it for granted. Finally, I got pretty hot in the collar.' He paused a moment; his heavy grooved face set hard; his blue eyes shone. He clapped a hand down upon the handle of his chair. 'Casper, I've got you into this thing, and I believe you'll do all right, and I'm not saying this because I distrust either your sense or your grit. But I want you to understand you've got to make a go of it. I'm not going to talk any twaddle about your country, and your country's flag. You understand all about that. But, now, you're a soldier, and there'll be this to do and that to do, and fightin' to do, and you've got to do every damned one of 'em right up to the handle. I don't know how much of a shindy this thing is goin' to be, but any shindy is enough to show how much there is in a man. You've got your appointment, and that's all I can do for you; but I'll thrash you with my own hands, if, when the army gets back, the other fellows say my son is nothin' but a good-lookin' dude.'

He ceased, breathing heavily. Casper looked bravely and frankly at his father and answered, in a voice which was not very tremulous, 'I'll do my best. This is my chance; I'll do my best with it.'

The senator had a marvellous ability of transition from one manner to another. Suddenly he seemed very kindly. 'Well,

that's all right, then. I guess you'll get along all right with Reilly. I know him well, and he'll see you through. I helped him along once. And now about this commissary business. As I understand it, a commissary is a sort of caterer in a big way. That is, he looks out for a good many more things than a caterer has to bother his head about. Reilly's brigade has probably from two to three thousand men in it, and in regard to certain things you've got to look out for every man of 'em every day. I know perfectly well you couldn't successfully run a boarding-house in Ocean Grove. How you goin' to manage for all these soldiers, hey? Thought about it?'

'No,' said Casper, injured. 'I didn't want to be a commissary. I wanted to be a captain of the line.'

'They wouldn't hear of it. They said you would have to take a staff appointment where people could look after you.'

'Well, let them look after me,' cried Casper resentfully; 'but when there's any fighting to be done, I guess I won't necessarily be the last man.'

'That's it,' responded the senator. 'That's the spirit.' They both thought that the problem of war would eliminate to an equation of actual battle.

Ultimately, Casper departed into the south to an encampment in salty grass under pine trees. Here lay an army corps twenty thousand strong. Casper passed into the dusty sunshine of it, and for many weeks he was lost to view.