Achmed Abdullah

“ Put on the blue and crimson of the Uhlans of the Guard! Ride with us! Drink with us! Tilt lances with us! Laugh with us! And if such be God's will—fight with us!"
"But—but ..." Tom was utterly dumbfounded.
"There are no Buts. We like you. We want you. Come! Be our comrade in arms!"
"But"—stammered Tom "I know nothing about the army. I know nothing about ..."
"You can ride, man! There's no better horseman in Germany than you. Why, how can you say no? You are young and healthy. Can't you feel the glory of it, the zest, the splendor of it? A soldier's life? A cavalryman! ”

“ Brasses and fifes and drums brayed and shrieked and thumped their separate notes, blending with the hollow tramp-tramp-tramp of drilled feet, the low, dramatic rumbling of the guns, the neighing of horses, the scraping of lance butt and sword scabbard on saddles. ”

“ Be one of us!" he added in a tense whisper.
The young Westerner had been steadily thinking, and the more he thought, the more fascinating seemed the Baron's proposal.
It was not only the glamour of the army which captured his imagination. He did think of it. Assuredly. For he was young and eager.
Also there was his dry American sense of humor. What a lark it would be! He, Tom Graves, horse wrangler, in the blue and crimson of Prussia's crack Uhlan regiment. Gosh! Martin Wedekind and Alec Wynn and Newson Garrett and all the other fellows back home would open their eyes some! ”