Part 15 (1/2)

And before long Plodder would be sure to make his way into the inner court --the _sanctum sanctorum_ of the store--sacred ordinarily to the knot of old officers who liked to have their quiet game aloof from the crash of pool-pins and the babel of voices in the main room, and there, after more or less beating round the bush, he would inquire as to whether the major had recently heard news of old Captain Cramps, and what was the state of his health; returning then to the billiard-room with wrath and vengeance in his eye, to upbraid his tormentor for sending him off on such a cruel quest.

”Well, what did you go for?” would be the extent of his comfort. ”I only said Cramps was going to die, and it's my profound conviction he will--some time or other.”

And Plodder would groan in spirit, ”It's all very well for you youngsters, but just you wait till you've served as long as I have, twelve years' consecutive service, by George! and if you don't wish lineal promotion would come in, or the gra.s.s was growing green over every man that ever opposed it, you can stop _my_ pay.”

It got to be a serious matter at last. It was Plod's monomania. We used to swear that Plod spent half his time moaning over the army register, and that his eyes were never fixed upon the benevolent features of his captain but that he was wondering whether apoplexy would not soon give him the longed-for file. Every week or two there would come tidings of deaths, dismissals, resignations, or retirements in some other corps or regiment, and second lieutenant so-or-so would become first lieutenant _vice_ somebody else, and on such occasions poor old Plod would suffer the tortures of the d.a.m.ned. ”There's that boy,” he would say, ”only two years out of that national charity school up there on the Hudson, in leading-strings, by George! when we fellers were fightin' and bleedin'

an--”

”h.e.l.lo, Plod! I forgot you fought and bled in the provost-guard. Where was it, old man? Take a nip and tell us about it,” some one would interpose, but Plodder would plunge ahead in the wild recitative of his lament, and the floor would be his own.

Tuesday evenings always found him at the store. The post-trader's copy of the _Army and Navy Journal_ arrived soon after retreat, and it was one of the unwritten laws of the establishment that old Plod should have first glimpse. There had been a time when he resorted to the quarters of brother-officers and possessed himself of their copy, but his concomitant custom of staying two or three hours and bemoaning his luck had gradually been the means of barring him out, and, never having a copy of his own (for Plodder was thrifty and ”near”), he had settled into the usurpation of first rights with ”Mr. O'Bottle's” paper, and there at the store he devoured the column of casualties with disappointed eyes, and swallowed grief and toddy in ”consecutive”

gulps.

It used to be a.s.serted of Plodder that he was figuring for the Signal Corps. He was at one time generally known as ”Old Probabilities;”

indeed, it had been his nickname for several years. He was accused of keeping a regular system of ”indications” against the names of his seniors in rank, and that G.o.dless young reprobate Trickett so far forgot his reverence for rank as to prepare and put in circulation ”Plodder's Probabilities,” a Signal Service burlesque that had the double effect of alienating that gentleman's long-tried friends.h.i.+p and startling into unnatural blasphemy the staid captains who figured in the bulletin.

Something in this wise it ran (and though poor fun at best, was better than anything we had had since that wonderful day when ”Mrs. _Captain_ O'Rorke av ye plaze” dropped that letter addressed to her friend ”Mrs.

Captain Sullivan, O'Maher Barrix”):

”PLODDER'S PROBABILITIES.

”_For Captain Irvin._--Higher living together with lower exercise. Cloudy complexion, with temperament choleric veering to apoplectic. Impaired action followed by fatty degeneration of the heart.

”_For Captains Prime and Chipsey._--Barometer threatening.

Squalls domestic. Stocks lower. Putler and Soaker bills falling (due N.E., S., and W.) from all parts of the country.

”_For Lieutenant Cole, R.Q.M._--Heft increasing. Nose and eyelids turgid. Frequent (d)rains, Sp. Fru. Heavy shortage C.

and G. E., S. T. 187(-)X.

”_Cautionary Signals_ for Burroughs, Calvin, and Waterman.

Something sure to turn up.”

We were hard up for fun in those days, and even this low order of wit excited a high degree of hilarity. The maddest men were Prime, Chipsey, and the R.Q.M., but their wrath was as nothing compared with the blaze of indignation which illuminated the countenances of Mrs. Prime and Mrs.

Chipsey, next-door neighbors and bosom friends as feminine friends.h.i.+ps go. Each lady in this instance was ready to acknowledge the pertinence of Mr. Trickett's diagnosis in the case of her neighbor's husband, and confidentially to admit that there was even some justification for the allegation of ”squalls domestic” next door, but that anything of this sort should be even hinted at in her own case, nothing but utter moral depravity on the part of the perpetrator could account for it. Trickett paid dear for his whistle, but for the time it seemed to hold Plodder in check. The ruling pa.s.sion soon cropped out again, however. Gray hairs were beginning to sprinkle his scanty beard, and crow's-feet to grow more deeply under his suspicious eyes. He never looked at a senior without a semi-professional scrutiny of that senior's physical condition as set forth in the clearness of his eye or skin. He never shook hands without conveying the impression that he was reaching for a man's pulse.

If any old officer were mentioned as going off on ”surgeon's certificate” to visit the sea-sh.o.r.e, and the question should be asked, ”What's the matter with him?” the interrogated party invariably responded, ”Don't know. Ask Plodder.”

It was not only in the regiment that Plodder became a notoriety. For one eventful year of its history the --th Foot was stationed in close proximity to department headquarters, and department headquarters became speedily and intimately acquainted with Mr. Plodder. Having once made his calls of ceremony upon the commanding general and his staff, it became his custom to make frequent visits to the city, and, pa.s.sing beyond the established haunts where his comrades were wont to dispense for creature comforts their scanty dimes, to spend some hours pottering about the offices at headquarters. But for a month no one really fathomed the object of his attentions. ”Trying to get a soft detail in town” was the theory hazarded by some of the youngsters, who were well aware of his distaste for company duty; ”Boning for aide-de-camp,”

suggested another. But not until the medical director one day explosively alluded to him as ”that ---- old vampire-bat,” with an uncomplimentary and profane adjective in place of the ----, and the acting judge-advocate of the department impulsively asked if ”that infernal Mark Meddle couldn't be kept at home,” did it begin to dawn on us what old Plodder really was driving at. His theory being that army casualties could be divided up pretty evenly between the Medical Department and the Bureau of Military Justice as the expediting means, he hoped by ingenious engineering of the conversation to pick up points as to probabilities in the --th Foot, or to furnish such as might be lacking.

In plain words, it transpired about this time that Plodder had taken to haunting the office of the judge-advocate at hours when he could hope for uninterrupted conversation with that officer, and one day, with very ruffled demeanor, he was encountered making hurried exit therefrom, pursued, said Mr. Trickett, by the toe of the judge-advocate's boot.

Indeed, Mr. Trickett was not far wrong. He and his now reconciled captain were about calling upon the judge-advocate when Plodder burst forth, and surely there was every symptom of a wrathful intent in the att.i.tude of the staff-officer whom they met at the door. It was a minute or so before he could recover his composure, though he politely invited them to enter and be seated. No explanation was vouchsafed as to what had occurred, but Trickett and Prime came back to barracks full of speculation and curiosity, told pretty much everybody what they had seen, and, all being convinced that Plodder and the judge-advocate had had some kind of a row, it was determined to draw Plodder out.

Consequently there was a gathering in the billiard-room that night, and when Plodder entered, with visage of unusual gloom, he ought to have been put on his guard by the unexpectedly prompt and cheery invites to ”take something” that greeted him. But Plodder had been taking several somethings in the privacy of his quarters, and, being always ready to partake at somebody else's expense, he was speedily primed into talkative mood, and then the inquisition began.

”Saw you coming out of Park's office to-day,” said Prime. ”What was your hurry?”

No answer for a moment, then a rather sulky growl, ”I'd finished my business, and thought you might want to see him.”