46 The Rough Riders 



Colonel, my real name isn't Smith, it's Yancy. I 

 had to change it, because three or four years ago I 

 had a little trouble with a gentleman, and er 

 well, in fact, I had to kill him ; and the District At- 

 torney, he had it in for me, and so I just skipped the 

 country; and now, if it ever should be brought up 

 against me, I should like to show your certificate 

 as to my character!" The course of frontier justice 

 sometimes moves in unexpected zigzags; so I did 

 not express the doubt I felt as to whether my cer- 

 tificate that he had been a good soldier would help 

 him much if he was tried for a murder committed 

 three or four years previously. 



The men worked hard and faithfully. As a rule, 

 in spite of the number of rough characters among 

 them, they behaved very well. One night a few of 

 them went on a spree, and proceeded "to paint San 

 Antonio red." One was captured by the city au- 

 thorities, and we had to leave him behind us in 

 jail. The others we dealt with ourselves, in a way 

 that prevented a repetition of the occurrence. 



The men speedily gave one another nicknames, 

 largely conferred in a spirit of derision, their basis 

 lying in contrast. A brave but fastidious member 

 of a well-known Eastern club, who was serving in 

 the ranks, was christened "Tough Ike"; and his 

 bunkie, the man who shared his shelter-tent, who 

 was a decidedly rough cowpuncher, gradually ac- 



