Betty at Fort Blizzard | Page 9

Molly Elliot Seawell

mounts of the young ladies. Broussard's Gamechick, a perfectly trained

cavalry charger, with an eye and ear of beautiful intelligence, had not
his superior among the horses. Sergeant McGillicuddy, who was the
best man with horses at Fort Blizzard, was sauntering about, looking at
the horses approvingly and saying to all who cared to hear:
"As good a lot of nags as ever I see, and every blarsted one of 'em has
got four legs. It's mighty seldom nowadays, you see a four-legged horse;
most of 'em has only three legs and some of 'em ain't got as much as
two and a half."
The riders, all wearing the same uniform as Broussard and Anita,
appeared by twos and fours; bright-eyed young officers and merry girls.
Their part was not to come for an hour, but they declared the night was
too lovely to go into the waiting-room, and they strolled about and
talked horses and dancing and balls and all the happy things that fall
out "when youth and pleasure meet."
In the midst of the chatter of the riders and stamping and champing of
the blanketed horses, as they were led up and down, Kettle suddenly
appeared carrying in his arms a white bundle, which turned out to be
the After-Clap. He should have been asleep in his crib for hours, but
instead he was wide awake, laughing and crowing and evidently meant,
with Kettle's assistance, to make a night of it.
"What do you mean, Kettle, by bringing the baby out this time of
night?" asked the surprised Anita.
"I got him all wropped up warm," answered Kettle, apologetically,
pointing to the After-Clap's white fur coat and cap. "But that chile
knowed there wuz a hoss show on--it's mighty little he doan' know, and
after the Kun'l and Miss Betty lef', he begin' to cry for 'Horsey!
Horsey!' an I jes' had to take him up an' dress him an' bring him here.
An' that's Gord's truth, Miss Anita," a phrase Kettle habitually used
when making doubtful statements.
The baby was so obviously happy in this breach of all nursery
discipline that Anita had not the heart to send him home. Anita was a
soft-hearted creature. Sergeant McGillicuddy, however, explained

disgustedly to the waiting troopers and horses how the After-Clap was
permitted to begin his career of dissipation.
"I'll bet you a million of monkeys," the Sergeant proclaimed, "as Missis
McGillicuddy wasn't on hand when that there baby begun to yell
'Horsey! Horsey!' if he ever did it at all. With eight children av her own
and Anna Mariar's beau, Missis McGillicuddy must sometimes stop at
home. Lord help the naygur if Missis McGillicuddy should favor this
evint with her prisince!"
The sympathies of the soldiers were entirely with the After-Clap, who
loved soldiers, knowing them to be his true friends, and was never
happier than with his big, kind, blue-coated playmates, the troopers,
with their rattling sabres and clanking spurs.
Sergeant McGillicuddy, being himself under Mrs. McGillicuddy's iron
rule, did not approve of Kettle's breach of discipline and hatched a
scheme to catch him. With a countenance as inscrutable as the Sphinx,
he stepped to the telephone booth, shut the door carefully, and held a
short conversation over the wire with Mrs. McGillicuddy. When the
Sergeant came out of the telephone booth his face was not inscrutable
but expressed pure human joy and triumph.
"It's Missis McGillicuddy as 'll do for ye," said the Sergeant with a grin,
going up to Kettle, holding the delighted After-Clap in his arms.
"Go 'long, man," answered Kettle, "Mrs. McGillicuddy ain't my boss.
She's yourn."
This language, uttered toward a man with chevrons and three stripes on
his sleeve, naturally incensed the Sergeant. He had learned, however, in
twenty years of warfare with Kettle, that it was very hard to get him
punished.
"The naygur never has found out that orders is orders," remarked the
Sergeant to the lookers on. "But Missis McGillicuddy can wallop him
with one hand tied behind her back, and she'll do it, too, when she finds
out about the kiddie bein' out this time of night."

This was no idle threat. Fifteen minutes later, when Kettle and the
After-Clap were at the height of their enjoyment, Mrs. McGillicuddy,
with only a shawl over her head, in the keen December night, was seen
stalking across the plaza and toward the group of men and horses
outside the drill ball; the riders had trooped into the waiting-room for
coffee and sandwiches before the ride began. The troopers, who knew
and admired Mrs. McGillicuddy, made way for her respectfully as she
swooped down on Kettle, to his complete surprise.
"Solomon!" shouted Mrs. McGillicuddy.
Whenever Mrs. McGillicuddy used Kettle's baptismal name it meant
the same thing as when Colonel Fortescue called Mrs.
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