CHAPTER X 

 WHY SATANK KILLED PEACOCK 



A FTER supper, as we lay on our beds in the 

 •^ ^ tent talking over old times, Jack recalled to 

 my mind the Cheyenne campaign of 1857 and 

 how we used to gather wild plums in the sand- 

 hills near where we were now camped. He spoke 

 also of a man bitten by a rattlesnake near here. 

 This called out a story from Tom, who said : 



"Speakin' of rattlesnakes reminds me of a little 

 incident that happened out in New Mexico when 

 I was in the old First Dragoons. I was a ser- 

 geant, an' we had a new recruit in the company 

 by the name of Nesbit — a mighty quiet sort of a 

 feller that the men called a 'stoughton-bottle,' or a 

 *bump on a log' — a good man for duty, only he 

 didn't make free with the other men or have 

 much to say to anybody. He had a fashion in hot 

 weather, when he was loungin' about camp off 

 duty, of goin' barefooted, with the bottoms of his 

 pants an' drawers rolled up several inches. 



"One day, when we was camped on the Rio 

 Grande, water call had jest gone, an' we'd all 

 started out from our tents to water our horses 

 an' picket 'em out on fresh grass. I was walkin' a 

 few steps behind Nesbit when I heard the whiz- 



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