Part 8

"One thing more," Grief said. "I can do even better. If you lose, two years of your time are mine--naturally without wages. Nevertheless, I'll pay you wages. If your work is satisfactory, if you observe all instructions and rules, I'll pay you five thousand pounds a year for two years. The money will be deposited with the company, to be paid to you, with interest, when the time expires. Is that all right?"

"Too much so," Deacon stammered. "You are unfair to yourself. A trader only gets ten or fifteen pounds a month."

"Put it down to action, then," Grief said, with an air of dismissal. "And before we begin, I'll jot down several of the rules. These you will repeat aloud every morning during the two years--if you lose. They are for the good of your soul. When you have repeated them aloud seven hundred and thirty Karo-Karo mornings I am confident they will be in your memory to stay. Lend me your pen, Mac. Now, let's see----"

He wrote steadily and rapidly for some minutes, then proceeded to read the matter aloud:

"_I must always remember that one man is as good as another, save and except when he thinks he is better._

"_No matter how drunk I am I must not fail to be a gentleman. A gentleman is a man who is gentle. Note: It would be better not to get drunk._

"_When I play a man's game with men, I must play like a man._

"_A good curse, rightly used and rarely, is an efficient thing. Too many curses spoil the cursing. Note: A curse cannot change a card sequence nor cause the wind to blow._

"_There is no license for a man to be less than a man. Ten thousand pounds cannot purchase such a license._"

At the beginning of the reading Deacon's face had gone white with anger. Then had arisen, from neck to forehead, a slow and terrible flush that deepened to the end of the reading.

"There, that will be all," Grief said, as he folded the paper and tossed it to the centre of the table. "Are you still ready to play the game?"

"I deserve it," Deacon muttered brokenly. "I've been an ass. Mr. Gee, before I know whether I win or lose, I want to apologise. Maybe it was the whiskey, I don't know, but I'm an ass, a cad, a bounder--everything that's rotten."

He held out his hand, and the half-caste took it beamingly.

"I say, Grief," he blurted out, "the boy's all right. Call the whole thing off, and let's forget it in a final nightcap."

Grief showed signs of debating, but Deacon cried:

"No; I won't permit it. I'm not a quitter. If it's Karo-Karo, it's Karo-Karo. There's nothing more to it."

"Right," said Grief, as he began the shuffle. "If he's the right stuff to go to Karo-Karo, Karo-Karo won't do him any harm."

The game was close and hard. Three times they divided the deck between them and "cards" was not scored. At the beginning of the fifth and last deal, Deacon needed three points to go out and Grief needed four. "Cards" alone would put Deacon out, and he played for "cards." He no longer muttered or cursed, and played his best game of the evening. Incidentally he gathered in the two black aces and the ace of hearts.

"I suppose you can name the four cards I hold," he challenged, as the last of the deal was exhausted and he picked up his hand.

Grief nodded.

"Then name them."

"The knave of spades, the deuce of spades, the tray of hearts, and the ace of diamonds," Grief answered.

Those behind Deacon and looking at his hand made no sign. Yet the naming had been correct.

"I fancy you play casino better than I," Deacon acknowledged. "I can name only three of yours, a knave, an ace, and big casino."

"Wrong. There aren't five aces in the deck. You've taken in three and you hold the fourth in your hand now."

"By Jove, you're right," Deacon admitted. "I did scoop in three. Anyway, I'll make 'cards' on you. That's all I need."

"I'll let you save little casino--" Grief paused to calculate. "Yes, and the ace as well, and still I'll make 'cards' and go out with big casino. Play."

"No 'cards,' and I win!" Deacon exulted as the last of the hand was played. "I go out on little casino and the four aces. 'Big casino' and 'spades' only bring you to twenty."

Grief shook his head. "Some mistake, I'm afraid."

"No," Deacon declared positively. "I counted every card I took in. That's the one thing I was correct on. I've twenty-six, and you've twenty-six."

"Count again," Grief said.

Carefully and slowly, with trembling fingers, Deacon counted the cards he had taken. There were twenty-five. He reached over to the corner of the table, took up the rules Grief had written, folded them, and put them in his pocket. Then he emptied his glass, and stood up. Captain Donovan looked at his watch, yawned, and also arose.

"Going aboard, Captain?" Deacon asked.

"Yes," was the answer. "What time shall I send the whaleboat for you?"

"I'll go with you now. We'll pick up my luggage from the _Billy_ as we go by. I was sailing on her for Babo in the morning."

Deacon shook hands all around, after receiving a final pledge of good luck on Karo-Karo.

"Does Tom Butler play cards?" he asked Grief.

"Solitaire," was the answer.

"Then I'll teach him double solitaire." Deacon turned toward the door, where Captain Donovan waited, and added with a sigh, "And I fancy he'll skin me, too, if he plays like the rest of you island men."

VI

THE TWO SAMURAI*

BYRON E. VEATCH

*Reprinted by permission of the author.

It was in the autumn of 1904 that the Colonel told the story; Colonel M----, who, with his seventy years, his snowy hair and imperial, was yet as ruddy of cheek and as gallant of bearing as when in the old days he led the --th Cavalry through the deserts of the West. Since his retirement his home was at the Army and Navy Club, where his charming little dinners and his unfailing wit and eloquence as an after-dinner speaker made this courtly old warrior the most sought for man about the capital.

We had dined with the Colonel that evening, and as we entered the club smoking-rooms we overheard fragments of an animated conversation between two naval officers, who were debating the probable movements of the United States battleship squadron in case the feud between Japan and Russia should involve other nations. The relative strength of the Japanese and Russian navies, both as to material and personnel, was also under discussion. In support of some claim as to Japanese superiority, one of the navy men took up an encyclopedia, from which he read the following:

"'_Samurai_--A term designating the feudal or governing class of old Japan; the ruling families from which the fighting clans were organised; a fighting man.'"

We found seats in the farther corner of the room and, after a few moments of silence, the Colonel remarked, in the musing tone which always promised a story:

"Boys, I once knew a Samurai; two of them, in fact; one to the manner born, the other a Samurai by adoption."

"Unlimber and get your range, Colonel, we are ready," remarked Sanderson of the Artillery, who would talk shop.

The old man smiled indulgently, and settling himself deeper into the big leather chair, replied:

"Well, then, if you youngsters really care to listen, and will allow an old fellow to tell his tale in his own fashion, you shall hear of the Samurai I have mentioned, two of the bravest men I ever met, and I have known several.

"At the close of the rebellion, after being mustered out as captain in the Tenth New York Cavalry, I re-entered the service as a lieutenant in the Fourth Regulars, and was at once ordered to Fort Sill. This was in '65, and for the next fifteen years we earned every dollar Uncle Sam paid us, and incidentally rode our horses over some millions of square miles of his territory, between the Brazos and the Big Horn. It was scout and fight, winter and summer; no big affairs, you understand, but a row of some sort going all the while, for the Indians were ugly and required lots of licking to keep them on their reservations. April 5, 1880, I was transferred to the --th Cavalry, and, as ranking captain, assumed command of Fort Huachuca, Arizona, a three-company post only a few miles from the Sonora border.

"It was a favourite pastime of the redskins, for small parties of a dozen or twenty, to break from the reservation at night and, after raising sundry and divers varieties of hell, to slip across the border and take refuge in Mexico, sneaking back to their tepees after the flurry of pursuit was over.

"It was the first day after I assumed command that I took my own troop out on the parade-ground, put them through their paces, and gave them a thorough looking-over, to see what sort of an aggregation I had inherited. They were a rollicking lot of lads, not pretty to look at, but comfortable fellows to have at one's back when going into a scrimmage, as I learned upon more than one bitter day in the months that followed. After a few evolutions I felt, rather than saw, what they needed: they wanted a master; wanted a leader whose word should be to them the law and the gospel, from Proverbs to Revelations, and by Gad, sir, they found their man right there and then. Half of them didn't seem to know how to obey a command, and the other half didn't appear to be in any particular hurry. My subalterns, too, were apathetic, and inside of ten minutes I knew that my work was cut out for me, if I expected to make anything of Troop C.

"The only man in the company who seemed to know the game, and wanted to play it by the book, was the First Sergeant. I spotted him at once, and noticed that he not only understood and instantly obeyed a command, but that he mentally anticipated it, which showed me that he was letter-perfect in tactics.

"I didn't waste a great deal of time in letting them know the lay of the land. As they wheeled into line by fours, the order was 'Halt, Company front!' and then, riding very slowly, I passed down the line, and over the head of his motionless horse I looked squarely through each trooper's eyes and down into the subcellar of his immortal soul. At the end of that slow riding I knew my men, and they knew that I knew them.

"From that moment began the upbuilding of Company C, and before six pay-days had passed it was the best drilled, best natured, hardest fighting troop that ever swung the sabre or followed the guidon.

"As the Company broke ranks I could see that the men were speaking eagerly among themselves, evidently discussing their new 'Old Man.' I had my eye on that First Sergeant, and after stables that evening I sent an orderly for him. A few minutes later he strode up to the open door of my quarters, saluted and stood at attention, waiting while I looked him over from end to end. He was a soldierly-looking chap, square-shouldered, well set up, long of limb and slender, and looked as hard as iron. But it was at his face that I looked longest. It was not a happy face--some great sorrow or great disappointment had left its shadow there--but it had character written all over. Prominent cheek-bones, a good nose and chin, with deep-set gray eyes, that looked at a man, not past him. For a full minute he stood quietly returning my gaze, with never a flinch nor the tremor of an eyelid.

"'What's your name, Sergeant?'

"'Reynolds, sir.'

"'How long have you been in the service?'

"'Nearly three years, sir.'

"'Step inside, Sergeant, I want to have a talk with you.'

"As he passed the threshold he removed his hat, and right there his Captain came very nearly committing an unpardonable breach of discipline, for the impulse came over me to get out of my chair and offer the gentleman a seat. For Sergeant Reynolds was a gentleman, as one could see the instant his hat came off and that magnificent forehead appeared in evidence. His was a splendid head, and every line of his face and brow bore the unmistakable stamp of intellectual force and honesty of purpose. Why was such a man as this serving as a private soldier in the regular army? I was distinctly rattled for a minute, and in the little silence which ensued I found myself speculating as to what queer turn of Fate's fickle wheel had brought him there. Such cases were not infrequent, and many an interesting identity lay concealed under Uncle Sam's army blue.

"Whatever had been his past, I felt sure he was the one man in the company who could be of most assistance in bringing the troop up to concert pitch, so I went straight to the point:

"'Sergeant, Troop C requires some good, hard drill and better discipline. The men need a little ginger and soldierly spirit infused into them, and a man in the ranks, who has his heart in the work, can prove himself of invaluable assistance to his officers in bringing about the desired conditions. I had an eye on you this afternoon and, if I am not mistaken, you know your business. Your Captain is going to depend on you to help him round the troop into shape, and, willingly or unwillingly, you're going to give him that help. I sent for you to tell you this and to know whether you will do it because you want to, or because you have to.'

"Quick as a shot came his reply, 'Both, sir.'

"There was a faint smile on his lip and a pleased look in his eyes which told me that my First Sergeant was mine. I dismissed him without further questioning, for I felt intuitively that no casual inquiry would secure Sergeant Reynolds' real history, much as I wanted it. A few minutes' private and pointed conversation with each of my lieutenants that evening, and I was ready for the siege of drill which began the following day. Lord! How I did work those fellows for the next week or two! The men grumbled and kicked, as is the soldier's prerogative, but they worked. Hennessy, the biggest, brawniest trooper of the lot, probably voiced the general sentiment when one hot afternoon he unburdened himself to Reynolds.

"'What do yez make av it, Sargint? Is this a rest cure that the dear Captin is thryin' on us? Bedad, I'd rayther be diggin' post holes in the stony corner of hell than workin' as a hoss sojer unther that man! Sure, me liver is jolted loose and the seat of me panties is wored out entoirely with this ridin' and chargin' up and down the landscape from mornin' till night. I've dhrilled and dhrilled till the damn thing has gone to me head, and I find meself dhrillin' in me slape. There's wan good thing about it, thank Hivin, the ould divil is takin' his own medicine, for he's dhrillin' wid us.'

"And so it was. I took my share of the drudgery, but it paid, for the troop began immediately to show improvement. Reynolds' influence in the ranks was soon apparent, the men showing more and more interest as the days went by.

"One evening an ambulance from Benson brought in the long delayed mails, and as the leathern pouches were tumbled out the men gathered about, eager for news from the San Carlos Agency, where a break was rumoured. On the seat beside the driver sat a young man in civilian dress, unmistakably a foreigner.

"'Who's your friend, Bill?' sang out one of the crowd.

"'Recruity,' answered the driver, with a grin; 'a gent from Japan who is stuck on sojerin' and has come out here to get some.'

"A delighted yell came from the boys, as they closed in and began reaching for the newcomer.

"'If the lady wud put her fut in me hand, I'd be proud to assist her to land in Huachuca,' said Hennessy, as he grabbed the stranger by the coat collar.

"The little fellow laughed at the reception, and without an instant's hesitation stepped into Hennessy's hand, then to his shoulder, and, springing lightly over the surprised trooper's head, landed safely on his feet. It was neatly done, and his evident good nature caught the crowd.

"'Bully for the Mikado!' 'Hooray for the Jap!' chorused the men, as Hennessy, nowise abashed, took the newcomer by the arm and moved off toward the quarters. Several others, scenting a lark, hurried forward to take a hand, but Hennessy waved them off. 'Lave go,' he said, 'I saw it first.'

"I beckoned the driver to me and inquired concerning the stranger.

"'Don't know nuthin' about him, sir, 'cept he tackled me as I was leaving Benson, and finally made me understand he wanted to come here; offered me a five-dollar gold piece to let him ride, and here he is. Says he wants to learn to be a 'Merican sojer, but he don't savvy United States, not a little bit.'

"I turned to Reynolds, who stood near, telling him to give the Japanese something to eat and then bring him to my quarters. It would never do to leave him with that lot of unredeemed pagans who had him in tow, as they would haze him mercilessly. I mentally decided that he would be sent back to Benson by the ambulance returning next morning.

"An hour later I saw Reynolds and the Jap coming up the company street, the little fellow trotting along beside the tall trooper, talking excitedly and smiling as if thoroughly delighted with the situation. As they reached my veranda, Reynolds saluted and said, 'Here he is, sir.'

"'Who is he, and why is he here?' I asked.

"'Izo Yamato, sir; been in America only a few weeks, and came from San Francisco here to enlist. Says he wants to be a cavalryman. He is twenty-three years old and belongs to a distinguished family.'

"'How comes it that he has been able to tell you so much? I understand from the driver that he speaks little or no English.'

"'He speaks very little English, sir; his conversation with me was in his own language.'

"'In Japanese? Where in God's name did you learn Japanese?'

"'I lived in Kobe for several years, sir.'

"'Um! well, you understand, of course, that he cannot enlist here. He must first go to some recruiting station and pass an examination, which he couldn't do, both on account of his size and his lack of English. Take care of him to-night, Reynolds, and we will send him back to Benson to-morrow.'

"All this time the Jap had not once taken his eyes from my face, eagerly watching every movement and gesture I made. Suddenly, as he seemed to understand that I had refused his request, he stepped before me, and drawing himself up to his full height, he declared proudly, 'Me Samurai.'

"I looked at Reynolds for an explanation.

"'He says he is a Samurai, sir, which, translated into English, means that he is a fighting man.'

"I laughed outright, while the smile on the little Jap's face broadened perceptibly, as he spoke a half dozen quick, snappy sentences in Japanese to Reynolds.

"'He says he doesn't expect to draw pay, sir; he has ample funds, and only wants to learn American soldiering.'

"I couldn't do anything for him in that line, and told Reynolds so. A quick shadow of disappointment passed over the youngster's face, as Reynolds translated my words, and I really felt sorry for him. He was a handsome little chap, about five feet four, deep-chested, stocky, and muscular, a sort of a big little man, when one came to look him over. He had jet-black hair, laughing eyes, and, while his features were of course after the Oriental type, he really looked more like a Portuguese or some south Europe breed than a Japanese. After some further talk I dismissed them, fully determined to send him out of camp the following morning--but he didn't go.

"Just before taps Reynolds came to me again to ask that his new friend be permitted to remain at the post for a time, explaining that the Jap would furnish his own equipment, and that the government would be reimbursed for the rations he consumed. He urged the case so strongly that I finally inquired what personal interest he had in the matter. At first he seemed loath to explain, but it finally came out.

"'Frankly, sir, I want his society. I haven't a real friend in the troop; of course, I get on well enough with the boys, but they are an illiterate lot, and it's fearfully lonely here at times, having no one to talk with. Young Yamato is an educated gentleman, and it would afford me infinite pleasure to have him with me, to teach him and to have him as my friend.'

"'But the men will devil the life out of him, and you will have a constant fight on your hands if you propose to protect your friend.'

"'I don't think they will trouble him much, as they come to know him better, sir, and he will require no protection.'

"'Why, Reynolds, that big Hennessy has already marked him as his victim. He will surely haze the life out of the little cuss.'

"'That's Yamato's affair, sir. I trust you will permit him to remain at the post; if he can't stand the gaff, then he will leave.'

"'Reynolds, I want to ask you some questions altogether foreign to the subject in hand; questions you needn't answer unless you see fit. You are a man of education and refinement; you know more about matters military than a man in your station is supposed to know; you are more familiar than your officers with the latest text-books on tactics. Were you ever at the Point? How came you to be a private in the service? What is your history, anyway?'

"It was brutal, the manner in which I fired those questions at him, taking a mean advantage of his position as petitioner to pry into his private life. I was ashamed of it as I put the questions; I was more ashamed when his answer came.

"Quickly the colour rose to his cheek, then gradually receded, leaving him deadly pale, as he slowly replied.

"'Captain, the rehearsal of a most unfortunate and unhappy history could not in any manner be of interest or profit to you. I have never been at West Point, and my training has been more naval than military. I am here because it appears to be the best place for me, and while here I have tried to perform my duties faithfully. That's all I care to say, sir, and I trust you will respect my reticence.' The grey eyes were looking fearlessly into mine.

"It was a merited rebuke, delivered like a gentleman.

"'Right, Sergeant, your history is your own property. You may keep the Jap, and if you need a friend, come to me.'

"There was a suspicious brightness in his eyes and the faintest tremor in his voice as he wrung my proffered hand, saying, 'Thank you, Captain, I'll not forget this.'

"So Yamato remained at the post, the ward and pupil of Sergeant Reynolds. The men attempted some horse-play with him the first day or two, but as Reynolds let it be known that the Jap was his friend, no one cared to carry the fun-making beyond prudent limits. They were very curious, however, and asked the Sergeant all sorts of questions concerning his protégé, to which they received evasive but good-natured replies. Big Hennessy finally cornered the Jap, and proceeded to catechise him.

"'How ould are yez, Chink?'

"'Me have of the years twenty-three,' replied the lad, with his everlasting smile.

"'Twinty-three! Sure, 'tis a big boy ye are gettin' to be; if yez kape on growin' at the prisint rate, yez will be a full-grown man in thirty or forty years more,' and the Irishman guffawed uproariously.

"'Well, me big man, what did yez do for a livin' in the ould counthry? Did yez wheel the baby waggin and do other light dhry-nursin', or was ye head push in a laundhry?'

"Not understanding, the Jap shook his head.

"Hennessy tried again.

"'What business were yez in? What did ye work at?'

"Extending himself to his full height, with great dignity the Japanese replied:

"'Me no work; in my countree me gentleman; me Samurai.'

"'Samoory, eh? What particular sort av a bug is a Samoory, anyhow?'

"'Him no bug; Samurai ees one man of the fight.'

"'Whoop!' yelled the big trooper derisively; then raising his voice till he could be heard from end to end of the company street, he shouted,

"'Oyez! Oyez! all ye fighters come a-runnin' with yure hats in yure hands, and do riverince to a rale live Samoory from the Far East.'

"Then as the boys quickly gathered about, he made a profound obeisance before the surprised Jap, and resumed.