uniform an' outfits, we've met 'em all before
but the Japs. Why, look a-here,' says he, 'foist, there's the white
men--the English--ain't they jus' like us excep' that they're thicker
an' we're longer? An' their Injun niggers--ain't we seen their clothes
in the comic op'ras an' them without their clothes in the monkey cage at
Central Park? An' their Hong-kong China Regiment an' all the other
Chinos is jus' the same as yer meet in the pipe joints in Mott Street.
Then,' says he, 'come all the Dagos. These leather necks of Macaroni
Dagos we've seen a swarmin' all over Mulberry Bend an' Five Points; the
Sauerkraut Dagos looks fer all the woild like they was goin' ter a
Schuetzenfest up by High Bridge; the Froggie Dagos you'll find packed in
them Frenchy restaraws in the Thirties--where yer git blue wine--and
them Vodki Dagos only needs a pushcart ter make yer think yer in Baxter
Street.'

"Buck, he could sure talk, but Ranch, he wasn't much on chin-chin.
Little an' dark an' quiet he was, an' jus' crazy fer dogs. Any old
mutt'd do fer him--jus' so's it was in the shape of a pup. He was fair
wild fer 'em. He picked up a yeller cur out there the day after the
Yangtsin fight, an' that there no-account, mangy, flea-bitten mutt had
ter stay with us the whole time. If the pup didn't stand in me an' Buck
an' Ranch, he swore he'd quit too, so we had to let him come, an' he
messed an' bunked with our outfit right along. Ranch named him Daggett,
after the Colonel, which was right hard on the C. O., but I bet Ranch
thought he was complimentin' him. Why, Ranch considered himself honored
if any of the pup's fleas hopped off on him. The pup he kep' along with
us right through everything; Ranch watchin' him like the apple of his
eye, an' he hardly ever was out of our sight, till one night about a
week after we quartered in the temple he didn't turn up fer supper. He
was always so reg'lar at his chow that Ranch he begin ter git the
squirms an' when come taps an' Daggett hadn't reported, Ranch had the
razzle-dazzles.

"Nex' mornin' the foist thing he must go hunt that pup, an' went a
scoutin' all day, me an' Buck helpin' him--but nary pup; an' come
another supper without that miser'ble mutt, an' Ranch was up an alley
all right, all right. He was all wore out, an' I made him hit the bunk
early an' try ter sleep; but, Lord! No sooner he'd drop off 'n he git
ter twitchin' an' hitchin' an' wake up a-yelpin' fer Daggett. Long about
taps, Buck,