if he is to be of any use to Walsh, he will need to say similar things to him in the future. Case gets to his feet. “Duty calls. Back to the pick and shovel,” he announces.
“Damn it, man,” says Walsh. “I’ll speak to the Sergeant Major and see you relieved of that chore.”
“But I don’t want to be relieved of it. I haven’t finished many things in my life. I need the practice.” And with that he leaves Walsh’s office.
For the rest of the afternoon Case chops ground, hands weeping blood, thinking of what Walsh has proposed. There is no denying that there is something flattering about being petitioned by a man who, back in the days at the Kingston Cavalry School, was so universally admired. Walsh had sparkled with promise, was a constant reminder to the rest of the officer trainees that he was the one real warrior among them. Like Blake’s Tyger, he had been formed by a different hand and eye, his sinews twisted to one purpose – a life of action. All he had talked about was his yearning to be gazetted a subaltern in the British Regulars. A little hard cash could have bought him a commission, but the son of a ship’s carpenter didn’t have that sort of tin – or the requisite gentleman’s upbringing. So Walsh had swallowed disappointment and settled for second best, a career in the Police, and now Scott was threatening to snatch second best out of his grasp. Only fear could have made Walsh beg for assistance, and that fear was what had surprised and touched Case the most. He had never guessed it was an element of the Major’s character.
It is easy to want to protect him. The man is as susceptible to disaster as a toddler careering around the house with a fork stuck in his mouth. And there Case thinks he might be useful. Protect and serve not only Walsh but perhaps his country too. If Scott doesn’t think he needs the Major, then he’s a fool. Only Walsh can give B Troop the backbone it will need to face the Sioux.
It surprises him a little that some of his youthful patriotism remains, though he will practise what is left of it in secret, as the Bible enjoins you to pray in secret, rather than do what his father would surely prefer and make the grand gesture of re-enlisting, parade his love of country. He has no interest in winning anyone’s applause. Least of all his father’s. Playing this game for its own sake is enticing. His father has always been the grand master of this variety of backroom chess. He cannot deny that also has something to do with the decision he arrives at.
That evening he frames his letter of introduction to Major Ilges. Next moring he gives it to Walsh to copy and sign. He also seizes the opportunity to ask the Major to permit young Constable Hathaway to accompany McMullen and him to Fort Benton. Walsh is reluctant. Only when Case points out that Joe McMullen will soon be returning to Fort Walsh and can shepherd Hathaway safely back to the fold does the Major give way, reassured the lamb will not be left bleating in the wilderness.
But when Case returns to his attack on the unyielding earth of the latrine trench he is not sure he has done the boy any favour. From the day he first met Peregrine Hathaway, he has been looking out for him. Hathaway’s naïveté, idealism, and brimming enthusiasm have made him unpopular with the more hard-bitten and cynical of his barrack mates. Case had gathered Hathaway under his wing to spare him what misery he could, but having that particular chick tucked away at his side has not always been a comfortable fit. Hathaway is very young, and acts even younger than he is, which is often a trial. He claims to be twenty, but Case is sure that that was a fabrication for the recruiting officer, and that the lad is no more than eighteen. Peregrine has decided he, Case, is an older brother and an infallible one to boot, and carries all his problems to him, nagging for solutions.
Hathaway’s latest problem is a girl he met at the New Year’s
“Damn it, man,” says Walsh. “I’ll speak to the Sergeant Major and see you relieved of that chore.”
“But I don’t want to be relieved of it. I haven’t finished many things in my life. I need the practice.” And with that he leaves Walsh’s office.
For the rest of the afternoon Case chops ground, hands weeping blood, thinking of what Walsh has proposed. There is no denying that there is something flattering about being petitioned by a man who, back in the days at the Kingston Cavalry School, was so universally admired. Walsh had sparkled with promise, was a constant reminder to the rest of the officer trainees that he was the one real warrior among them. Like Blake’s Tyger, he had been formed by a different hand and eye, his sinews twisted to one purpose – a life of action. All he had talked about was his yearning to be gazetted a subaltern in the British Regulars. A little hard cash could have bought him a commission, but the son of a ship’s carpenter didn’t have that sort of tin – or the requisite gentleman’s upbringing. So Walsh had swallowed disappointment and settled for second best, a career in the Police, and now Scott was threatening to snatch second best out of his grasp. Only fear could have made Walsh beg for assistance, and that fear was what had surprised and touched Case the most. He had never guessed it was an element of the Major’s character.
It is easy to want to protect him. The man is as susceptible to disaster as a toddler careering around the house with a fork stuck in his mouth. And there Case thinks he might be useful. Protect and serve not only Walsh but perhaps his country too. If Scott doesn’t think he needs the Major, then he’s a fool. Only Walsh can give B Troop the backbone it will need to face the Sioux.
It surprises him a little that some of his youthful patriotism remains, though he will practise what is left of it in secret, as the Bible enjoins you to pray in secret, rather than do what his father would surely prefer and make the grand gesture of re-enlisting, parade his love of country. He has no interest in winning anyone’s applause. Least of all his father’s. Playing this game for its own sake is enticing. His father has always been the grand master of this variety of backroom chess. He cannot deny that also has something to do with the decision he arrives at.
That evening he frames his letter of introduction to Major Ilges. Next moring he gives it to Walsh to copy and sign. He also seizes the opportunity to ask the Major to permit young Constable Hathaway to accompany McMullen and him to Fort Benton. Walsh is reluctant. Only when Case points out that Joe McMullen will soon be returning to Fort Walsh and can shepherd Hathaway safely back to the fold does the Major give way, reassured the lamb will not be left bleating in the wilderness.
But when Case returns to his attack on the unyielding earth of the latrine trench he is not sure he has done the boy any favour. From the day he first met Peregrine Hathaway, he has been looking out for him. Hathaway’s naïveté, idealism, and brimming enthusiasm have made him unpopular with the more hard-bitten and cynical of his barrack mates. Case had gathered Hathaway under his wing to spare him what misery he could, but having that particular chick tucked away at his side has not always been a comfortable fit. Hathaway is very young, and acts even younger than he is, which is often a trial. He claims to be twenty, but Case is sure that that was a fabrication for the recruiting officer, and that the lad is no more than eighteen. Peregrine has decided he, Case, is an older brother and an infallible one to boot, and carries all his problems to him, nagging for solutions.
Hathaway’s latest problem is a girl he met at the New Year’s
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