the shade, he ceased to comment upon
our dresses or our customs.

I had a glass jar of butter sent over from the Commissary, and asked
Colonel Biddle if he thought it right that such butter as that should
be bought by the purchasing officer in San Francisco. It had melted,
and separated into layers of dead white, deep orange and pinkish-purple
colors. Thus I, too, as well as General Miles, had my turn at trying to
reform the Commissary Department of Uncle Sam's army.

Hammocks were swung under the ramadas, and after luncheon everybody
tried a siesta. Then, near sundown, an ambulance came and took us over
to the Verde River, about a mile away, where we bathed in water almost
as thick as that of the Great Colorado. We taught Mrs. Kendall to swim,
but Mr. Kendall, being an inland man, did not take to the water. Now the
Verde River was not a very good substitute for the sea, and the thick
water filled our ears and mouths, but it gave us a little half hour in
the day when we could experience a feeling of being cool, and we found
it worth while to take the trouble. Thick clumps of mesquite trees
furnished us with dressing-rooms. We were all young, and youth requires
so little with which to make merry.

After the meagre evening dinner, the Kendalls and ourselves sat together
under the ramada until taps, listening generally to the droll anecdotes
told by Mr. Kendall, who had an inexhaustible fund. Then another night
under the stars, and so passed the time away.

We lived, ate, slept by the bugle calls. Reveille means sunrise, when a
Lieutenant must hasten to put himself into uniform, sword and belt, and
go out to receive the report of the company or companies of soldiers,
who stand drawn up in line on the parade ground.

At about nine o'clock in the morning comes the guard-mount, a function
always which everybody goes out to see. Then the various drill calls,
and recalls, and sick-call and the beautiful stable-call for the
cavalry, when the horses are groomed and watered, the thrilling
fire-call and the startling assembly, or call-to-arms, when every
soldier jumps for his rifle and every officer buckles on his sword, and
a woman's heart stands still.

Then at night, "tattoo," when the company officers go out to receive the
report of "all present and accounted for"--and shortly after that, the
mournful "taps," a signal for the barrack lights to be put out.

The bugle call of "taps" is mournful also through association, a