She was the third
girl to throw me over, and I determined to give up the business and go
for a soldier. I stuck it out there till fall and then resigned for all
time.

CHAPTER XXI

THE MILITARY OPERATOR--A FAKE REPORT THAT NEARLY CAUSED TROUBLE

The railroad and commercial telegraphers are well known to the general
public, because they are thrown daily in contact with them, but there is
still another class in the profession, which, while not being so well
known are, in their way, just as important in their acts and deeds. I
refer to the military telegrapher. His work does not often carry him
within the environments of civilization; his instruments are not of the
beautiful Bunnell pattern, placed on polished glass partitioned tables;
his task is a very hard one and yet he does it without a grumble. His
sphere of duty is out at the extreme edge of advancing civilization. You
will find him along the Rio Grande frontier; out on the sun-baked
deserts of New Mexico and Arizona; up in the Bad Lands of Montana, and
the snow-capped mountains of the Rockies. A few of them you will find in
nice offices at some department headquarters or in the war office in
Washington, but such places are generally given to men who have grown
old and gray in the service. His office? Any old place he can plant his
instruments, many times a tent with a cracker box for a table; a chair
would be an unheard-of luxury. His pay? Thirteen big round American
dollars per month. His rank and title? Hold your breath while I tell
you. Private, United States Army. Great, isn't it? Many times a detail
to one of the frontier points means farewell to your friends as long as
the tour lasts.

When I left the railroad business I journeyed out westward to Fort
Hayes, Kansas, and held up my right hand and swore all manner of oaths
to support the Constitution of the United States; obey the orders of the
President of the United States and all superior officers; to accept the
pay and allowances as made by a generous (God save the word) Congress
for the period of five years. Thus did I become a soldier and a "dough
boy" because I went to the infantry arm of the service. I've stuck to
the business ever since.

I supposed when I went into the army that my connection with wires and
telegraph instruments was entirely finished. I had worked at the
business long and faithfully and was in a state of mind that I thought I
had had enough. That's very good in theory, b