rstands pantomime all right, and when
the black man in uniform grabbed the pail out of the squaw's hand and
thrust it into the dirty paw of the chief the chief went after that
bucket of water, and he went a-loping, too."

[Illustration.]

"The Sioux will hand down to their children's children the story of
a charge that a couple of Negro cavalry troops made during the Pine
Ridge troubles. It was of the height of the fracas, and the bad
Indians were regularly lined up for battle. Those two black troops
were ordered to make the initial swoop upon them. You know the noise
one black man can make when he gets right down to the business of
yelling. Well, these two troops of blacks started their terrific whoop
in unison when they were a mile away from the waiting Sioux, and they
got warmed up and in better practice with every jump their horses
made. I give you my solemn word that in the ears of us of the white
outfit, stationed three miles away, the yelps those two Negro troops
of cavalry gave sounded like the carnival whooping of ten thousand
devils. The Sioux weren't scared a little bit by the approaching
clouds of alkali dust, but, all the same, when the two black troops
were more than a quarter of a mile away the Indians broke and ran as
if the old boy himself were after them, and it was then an easy matter
to round them up and disarm them. The chiefs afterward confessed that
they were scared out by the awful howling of the black soldiers."

"Ever since the war the United States navy has had a fair
representation of Negro bluejackets, and they make first-class naval
tars. There is not a ship in the navy to-day that hasn't from six to
a dozen, anyhow, of Negroes on its muster rolls. The Negro sailors'
names very rarely get enrolled on the bad conduct lists. They are
obedient, sober men and good seamen. There are many petty officers
among them."--_The Planet._

THE CHARGE OF THE "NIGGER NINTH" ON SAN JUAN HILL.

BY GEORGE E. POWELL

Hark! O'er the drowsy trooper's dream,
There comes a martial metal's scream,
That startles one and all!
It is the word, to wake, to die!
To hear the foeman's fierce defy!
To fling the column's battle-cry!
The "boots and saddles" call.

The shimmering steel, the glow or morn,
The rally-call of battle-horn,
Proclaim a day of carnage, born
For better or for ill.
Above the pictured tentage white,
Above the weapons glinting bright,
The day god casts a