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[Entered according to Aot of Congress, in the year 1388, by Jamuxs Firvmsow, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress,
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JAMES ELVERSON, z&'
Publisher. %
VoL. IX.
W. corner
and SPRUCE 8
PHILADELPHIA, JUNE 30, 1888.
07,
RS~
TERMS: § ¥
t Washington, D. C.]
00 PER ANNUM,
IN ADVANCE.
No. 31.
Caspar Schroeder's Midoight Ride
BY LIEUT. W. R. HAMILTON.
“What’s that? You want to be a sol-
dier 2"’
“Yes, mein herr.”
“You are too young; we don't enlist
boys.””
““ Last June I was seventeen years old.”
“But last June was only four
and have him examined. If he passes, you
may enlist him.””
“Very well, sir,” replied the sergeant.
And so it was that Caspar Schroeder be-
came a soldier., |
He could blow the bugle very well, and
was first sent to the big recruiting rendez-
vous at David’s Island, in Long Island
Sound.
There he was drilled in the various march-
ings of a soldier, and learned the bugle calls
of the American army, and after two
months’ instruction, he was sent to the cav-
alry depot, at Jefferson Barracks, in St.
Louis.
A letter from the captain to the command-
er of the depot told all about his history, and
re(}nested to have him assigned to Captain
White’s company, of the Eleventh Cavalry.
He was daily drilled in cavalry manceu-
vres at the depot, and learned to ride his
horse well, but his life was uneventful until
the following June, when one day the orders
came to send a large detachment of recruits
to the forts in the Northwest, to fill up one
or two cavalry regiments that were ordered
to take the field against seve-
months ago. We don’t enlist any
one under twenty-one.”’
““What shall I do?” said the boy,
sadly. ‘I have no father, no mother,
and I know no one in this country. I
can get no work, and you will not
let me be a soldier. I can blow the
bugle. Can you not try me ?”’
“You might go to David’s Island,”
replied the gray-haired recruiting
sergeant, dubiously. “
“IIold_on, sergeant,” said a deep,
manly voice at the door ; and the ser-
weant straightened himself up to
‘“attention ’’ as the captain in charge
entered the room. *Perhaps we can
take this young man. I received a
letter this morning from Captain
White, of the Eleventh Cavalry, ask-
ing me to look out fora bugler.” What
is your name, my lad 2"’
Caspar Schroeder, ITerr Captain,”
answered the applicant.
“And you are seventeen years old ?
Well, you are a stout young fellow
for your age. How long have you
been in this country 2”
“Only about six months. My mo-
ther died in Germany, and my father
brought me here, and then he died,
1 have no money and no work, and 1
only know how to blow the bugle,
what my father taught me.”
The boy’s honest blue eyes filled
with tears, as the big captain looked
at him kindly.
“Well, well,”” said he, ‘““cheer
up, mylad; I think I can find you
a place. Sergeant, assign him a
bunk and a place at the mess,
and look after him. Come with
me, boy.”
And leading the way to his
inner office, he had the boy tell
his story.
Ilis father had been a Prussian
soldier, and his service having
expired, he took lis only child,
Caspar, to seek a home’ in the
New World.
The mother died in the old
country, and they had no rela-
tives in Ameriea.
At first the father found plen.
ty of work at his trade—carpen-
tering—and earned good wages.
Caspar went to school, and,
thanks to his thorough ground-
work in Germany, he learned
fast.
But one fatal day Corporal
Schroeder fell off a roof of a
house and was badly injured.
He lingered for a month and
then died, leaving his boy with-
out a penny after the funeral ex-
penses were paid.
Caspar was large and strong,
with fearless blue eyes, light hair
and the fair, rosy complexion so
characteristic of the Germans,
and he had withal a manly look
in his face that at once prepos-
sessed. one in his faver.
When he had finished his tale,
the captain rang his bell, and
the sergeant came in.
““Take this boy to the surgeon
ral tribes of hostile Indians.
Among the troops that were
to be recruited was Captain
White’s company, so that
three days after Casparfound
himself, with a half-dozen re-
cruits, at Fort Robinson, in
the northwest corner of Ne-
braska, just below the Great Pine Ridge
Agency, or Sioux Indian Reservation.
This was a large military post, but Caspar
had but little time to look around. Great
preparations were geing on, for that very
day orders had come from the department
commander for the three cavalry companies
at the post to take the field at once against
the hostile savages and drive them back to
their reservations; so all was astir, as the
troops were to set out early the next morn-
mg.
%aspar was assigned a horse, and was
put at work cleaning up and oiling saddle,
bridle and equipments, and preparing his
own outfit.
Next morning, just as the sun was rising,
the entire cavalry command swung into the
saddle and started on theiy campaign. Some
of them might never come back again, yet
they did not think of that, as, lJaughing mer-
rily, they joked and talked with each other
\\‘ J “THE NEXT MOMENT THE LEADING COMPANY SWEPT IN, THE MEN
. YELLING WITH EXCITEMENT.”
till the command ‘“attention’’ was sounded.
Then for three weeks lasted the march and
hunt after the delusive foe.
The life was hard, but Caspar liked it. His
horse was a good one and he was an excel-
lent rider. Tle liked the open air life, though
he had to rise each morning before daylight,
