OUT WHERE THE WEST BEGINS 



quite figure it out. He'd never walked before, and 

 until he was shod with the Munson last, he was foot- 

 sore and worn down to the quick, marching up and 

 down in riding boots. 



One night along came Major Charles McDonald, 

 courageous, loyal McDonald, one of the first of Ore- 

 gon's sons to make the great sacrifice. Runyan, seeing 

 him approach in the darkness, gripped his shooting 

 iron. 



"Hell! Look who's here!" says Charlie. 



There was dead silence for a minute. Then follow- 

 ed an introductory calling-down, which we will omit. 



"What were your orders?" 



"Well, sir — I was told to say 'Halt! Who goes 

 there!'" 



"Well, you didn't. You said, 'Hell ! Look who's 

 here !' " 



"Beg pardon, sir. I meant to say, Halt! Who 

 goes there !' " 



Runyan, in many ways the life of the company, 

 survived the above mentioned ordeal with the major, 

 to come near not surviving the deadly German gas. 



The soldier timber of this outfit as soon as they had 

 barked a little of the rough off, proved to be sec- 

 ond to none and Troop D, 3d Oregon Cavalry, was 

 later turned into one of the most efficient batter- 

 ies — the 148th Field Artillery. They swung their 155 

 millimeter G. P. F.'s into position at Chateau Thierry. 

 Over the shady roads of fair France, beyond the 

 Hindenburg line, along the shell-pockmarked roads 

 and landscape blighted by the Teuton scourge, their 

 guns, limbers and trucks rattled their way to skilful 

 and determined driving. The ruined walls of St. 

 Mihiel, the Woods of Belleau and the Valley of the 



35 



