He had chosen the military
profession for the love of it; he was a man of wonderfully fine
physique, a "dead sure" shot, and one who hardly understood the
meaning of the word "fatigue." He was ambitious, he was an ardent
believer in the Gatling gun, and he was determined to win a commission
on the battle-field.
Corporal Doyle was a magnificent type of the old-time Regular--one of
the kind that composed the army before Proctorism tried to convert it
into a Sunday-school. In former days Doyle had been a drinking man;
but the common opinion as expressed by his company officers even in
those days was, "I would rather have Doyle, drunk, than any other
non-commissioned officer, sober; because Doyle never gets too drunk to
attend to duty." Two years before this Doyle had quit drinking, and
the only drawback to this most excellent noncommissioned officer had
been removed. He was a thorough disciplinarian; one of the kind that
takes no back talk; one who is prone to using the butt end of a musket
as a persuader, if necessary; and Doyle was thoroughly devoted to the
detachment commander. Corp. Smith was another of the same stamp. Corp.
Smith loved poker. In fact, his _sobriquet_ was "Poker Smith.
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