VIX. 33 



derly, that there was no possibility that she 

 could get well in camp, and that they wanted 

 me to give her over to them. The adjutant 

 sat by me, and talked of the old days when I 

 had had her at home, and when he had known 

 her well. We brought back all of her pleasant 

 ways, and agreed that her trouble ought to be 

 ended. 



As we talked, a single shot was fired, and all 

 was over. The setting sun was shining through 

 the bare November branches, and lay warm in 

 my open tent-front. The band, which had been 

 brought out for the only funeral ceremony, 

 breathed softly Kreutzer's touching " Die Ka- 

 pelle," and the sun went down on one of the 

 very sad days of my life. 



The next morning I carved deeply in the 

 bark of a great oak-tree, at the side of the 

 Pacific Railroad, beneath which they had buried 

 my lovely mare, a simple VIX ; and some day 

 I shall go to scrape the moss from the inscrip- 

 tion. 



2* o 



