The Red Badge of Courage

by Stephen Crane


 


An Episode of the


American Civil War



 


 


 


 


CHAPTER I.



THE cold passed reluctantly from the earth,


and the retiring fogs revealed an army stretched


out on the hills, resting.  As the landscape


changed from brown to green, the army awak-


ened, and began to tremble with eagerness at the


noise of rumors.  It cast its eyes upon the roads,


which were growing from long troughs of liquid


mud to proper thoroughfares.  A river, amber-


tinted in the shadow of its banks, purled at the


army's feet; and at night, when the stream had


become of a sorrowful blackness, one could see


across it the red, eyelike gleam of hostile camp-


fires set in the low brows of distant hills.



Once a certain tall soldier developed virtues


and went resolutely to wash a shirt.  He came


flying back from a brook waving his garment


bannerlike.  He was swelled with a tale he had


heard from a reliable friend, who had heard it


from a truthful cavalryman, who had heard it


from his trustworthy brother, one of the order-


lies at division headquarters.  He adopted the


important air of a herald in red and gold.


"We're goin' t' move t' morrah--sure," he


said pompously to a group in the company


street.  "We're goin' 'way up the river, cut


across, an' come around in behint 'em."



To his attentive audience he drew a loud


and elaborate plan of a very brilliant campaign.


When he had finished, the blue-clothed men


scattered into small arguing groups between the


rows of squat brown huts.  A negro teamster who


had been dancing upon a cracker box with the


hilarious encouragement of twoscore soldiers


was deserted.  He sat mournfully down.  Smoke


drifted lazily from a multitude of quaint chim-


neys.



"It's a lie! that's all it is--a thunderin' lie!"


said another private loudly.  His smooth face was


flushed, and his hands were thrust sulkily into his


trousers' pockets.  He took the matter as an


affront to him.  "I don't believe the derned old


army's ever going to move.  We're set.  I've


got ready to move eight times in the last two


weeks, and we ain't moved yet."



The tall soldier felt called upon to defend


the truth of a rumor he himself had intro-


duced.  He and the loud one came near to fight-


ing over it.



A corporal began to swear before the assem-


blage.  He had just put a costly board floor in


his house, he said.  During the early spring he


had refrained from adding extensively to the


comfort of his environment because he had felt


that the army might start on the march at any


moment.  Of late, however, he had been im-


pressed that they were in a sort of eternal camp.



Many of the men engaged in a spirited debate.


One outlined in a peculiarly lucid manner all the


plans of the commanding general.  He was op-


posed by men who advocated that there were


other plans of campaign.  They clamored at each


other, numbers making futile bids for the pop-


ular attention.  Meanwhile, the soldier who had


fetched the rumor bustled about with much


importance.  He was continually assailed by


questions.



"What's up, Jim?"



"Th' army's goin' t' move."



"Ah, what yeh talkin' about?  How yeh know


it is?"



"Well, yeh kin b'lieve me er not, jest as yeh


like.  I don't care a hang."



There was much food for thought in the man-


ner in which he replied.  He came near to con-


vincing them by disdaining to produce proofs.


They grew excited over it.



There was a youthful private who listened


with eager ears to the words of the tall soldier


and to the varied comments of his comrades.


After receiving a fill of discussions concerning


marches and attacks, he went to his hut and


crawled through an intricate hole that served it


as a door.  He wished to be alone with some


new thoughts that had lately come to him.



He lay down on a wide bank that stretched


across the end of the room.  In the other end,


cracker boxes were made to serve as furniture.


They were grouped about the fireplace.  A pic-


ture from an illustrated weekly was upon the log


walls, and three rifles were paralleled on pegs.


Equipments hunt on handy projections, and some


tin dishes lay upon a small pile of firewood.  A


folded tent was serving as a roof.  The sunlight,


without, beating upon it, made it glow a light


yellow shade.  A small window shot an oblique


square of whiter light upon the cluttered floor.


The smoke from the fire at times neglected the


clay chimney and wreathed into the room, and


this flimsy chimney of clay and sticks made end-


less threats to set ablaze the whole establishment.



The youth was in a little trance of astonish-


ment.  So they were at last going to fight.  On


the morrow, perhaps, there would be a battle, and


he would be in it.  For a time he was obliged


to labor to make himself believe.  He could not


accept with assurance an omen that he was about


to mingle in one of those great affairs of the earth.



He had, of course, dreamed of battles all


his life--of vague and bloody conflicts that had


thrilled him with their sweep and fire.  In visions


he had seen himself in many struggles.  He had


imagined peoples secure in the shadow of his


eagle-eyed prowess.  But awake he had regarded


battles as crimson blotches on the pages of the


past.  He had put them as things of the bygone


with his thought-images of heavy crowns and


high castles.  There was a portion of the world's


history which he had regarded as the time of


wars, but it, he thought, had been long gone over


the horizon and had disappeared forever.



From his home his youthful eyes had looked


upon the war in his own country with distrust.


It must be some sort of a play affair.  He had


long despaired of witnessing a Greeklike struggle.


Such would be no more, he had said.  Men were


better, or more timid.  Secular and religious


education had effaced the throat-grappling in-


stinct, or else firm finance held in check the pas-


sions.



He had burned several times to enlist.  Tales


of great movements shook the land.  They might


not be distinctly Homeric, but there seemed to


be much glory in them.  He had read of marches,


sieges, conflicts, and he had longed to see it all.


His busy mind had drawn for him large pictures


extravagant in color, lurid with breathless deeds.



But his mother had discouraged him.  She


had affected to look with some contempt upon


the quality of his war ardor and patriotism.  She


could calmly seat herself and with no apparent


difficulty give him many hundreds of reasons


why he was of vastly more importance on the


farm than on the field of battle.  She had had


certain ways of expression that told him that her


statements on the subject came from a deep con-


viction.  Moreover, on her side, was his belief


that her ethical motive in the argument was


impregnable.



At last, however, he had made firm rebellion


against this yellow light thrown upon the color of


his ambitions.  The newspapers, the gossip of the


village, his own picturings had aroused him to


an uncheckable degree.  They were in truth


fighting finely down there.  Almost every day


the newspapers printed accounts of a decisive


victory.



One night, as he lay in bed, the winds had


carried to him the clangoring of the church bell


as some enthusiast jerked the rope frantically to


tell the twisted news of a great battle.  This


voice of the people rejoicing in the night had


made him shiver in a prolonged ecstasy of ex-


citement.  Later, he had gone down to his


mother's room and had spoken thus: "Ma, I'm


going to enlist."



"Henry, don't you be a fool," his mother had


replied.  She had then covered her face with the


quilt.  There was an end to the matter for that


night.



Nevertheless, the next morning he had gone


to a town that was near his mother's farm and


had enlisted in a company that was forming there.


When he had returned home his mother was


milking the brindle cow.  Four others stood


waiting.  "Ma, I've enlisted," he had said to her


diffidently.  There was a short silence.  "The


Lord's will be done, Henry," she had finally


replied, and had then continued to milk the


brindle cow.



When he had stood in the doorway with his


soldier's clothes on his back, and with the light of


excitement and expectancy in his eyes almost


defeating the glow of regret for the home bonds,


he had seen two tears leaving their trails on his


mother's scarred cheeks.



Still, she had disappointed him by saying


nothing whatever about returning with his shield


or on it.  He had privately primed himself for a


beautiful scene.  He had prepared certain sen-


tences which he thought could be used with


touching effect.  But her words destroyed his


plans.  She had doggedly peeled potatoes and


addressed him as follows: "You watch out,


Henry, an' take good care of yerself in this here


fighting business--you watch out, an' take good


care of yerself.  Don't go a-thinkin' you can


lick the hull rebel army at the start, because yeh


can't.  Yer jest one little feller amongst a hull lot


of others, and yeh've got to keep quiet an' do what


they tell yeh.  I know how you are, Henry.



"I've knet yeh eight pair of socks, Henry, and


I've put in all yer best shirts, because I want my


boy to be jest as warm and comf'able as anybody


in the army.  Whenever they get holes in 'em, I


want yeh to send 'em right-away back to me, so's


I kin dern 'em.



"An' allus be careful an' choose yer comp'ny.


There's lots of bad men in the army, Henry.


The army makes 'em wild, and they like nothing


better than the job of leading off a young feller


like you, as ain't never been away from home


much and has allus had a mother, an' a-learning


'em to drink and swear.  Keep clear of them


folks, Henry.  I don't want yeh to ever do any-


thing, Henry, that yeh would be 'shamed to let


me know about.  Jest think as if I was a-watchin'


yeh.  If yeh keep that in yer mind allus, I guess


yeh'll come out about right.



"Yeh must allus remember yer father, too,


child, an' remember he never drunk a drop of


licker in his life, and seldom swore a cross oath.



"I don't know what else to tell yeh, Henry,


excepting that yeh must never do no shirking,


child, on my account.  If so be a time comes when


yeh have to be kilt or do a mean thing, why,


Henry, don't think of anything 'cept what's right,


because there's many a woman has to bear up


'ginst sech things these times, and the Lord 'll


take keer of us all.



"Don't forgit about the socks and the shirts,


child; and I've put a cup of blackberry jam with


yer bundle, because I know yeh like it above all


things.  Good-by, Henry.  Watch out, and be a


good boy."



He had, of course, been impatient under the


ordeal of this speech.  It had not been quite what


he expected, and he had borne it with an air of


irritation.  He departed feeling vague relief.



Still, when he had looked back from the gate,


he had seen his mother kneeling among the po-


tato parings.  Her brown face, upraised, was


stained with tears, and her spare form was quiver-



 


10 RED BADGE OF COURAGE.



ing.  He bowed his head and went on, feeling


suddenly ashamed of his purposes.



From his home he had gone to the seminary


to bid adieu to many schoolmates.  They had


thronged about him with wonder and admiration.


He had felt the gulf now between them and had


swelled with calm pride.  He and some of his


fellows who had donned blue were quite over-


whelmed with privileges for all of one afternoon,


and it had been a very delicious thing.  They had


strutted.



A certain light-haired girl had made vivacious


fun at his martial spirit, but there was another and


darker girl whom he had gazed at steadfastly, and


he thought she grew demure and sad at sight of


his blue and brass.  As he had walked down the


path between the rows of oaks, he had turned his


head and detected her at a window watching his


departure.  As he perceived her, she had im-


mediately begun to stare up through the high


tree branches at the sky.  He had seen a good


deal of flurry and haste in her movement as she


changed her attitude.  He often thought of it.



On the way to Washington his spirit had


soared.  The regiment was fed and caressed at


station after station until the youth had believed


that he must be a hero.  There was a lavish ex-


penditure of bread and cold meats, coffee, and


pickles and cheese.  As he basked in the smiles


of the girls and was patted and complimented by


the old men, he had felt growing within him the


strength to do mighty deeds of arms.



After complicated journeyings with many


pauses, there had come months of monotonous


life in a camp.  He had had the belief that real


war was a series of death struggles with small


time in between for sleep and meals; but since his


regiment had come to the field the army had done


little but sit still and try to keep warm.



He was brought then gradually back to his old


ideas.  Greeklike struggles would be no more.


Men were better, or more timid.  Secular and


religious education had effaced the throat-grap-


pling instinct, or else firm finance held in check


the passions.



He had grown to regard himself merely as a


part of a vast blue demonstration.  His province


was to look out, as far as he could, for his per-


sonal comfort.  For recreation he could twiddle


his thumbs and speculate on the thoughts which


must agitate the minds of the generals.  Also, he


was drilled and drilled and reviewed, and drilled


and drilled and reviewed.



The only foes he had seen were some pickets


along the river bank.  They were a sun-tanned,


philosophical lot, who sometimes shot reflectively


at the blue pickets.  When reproached for this


afterward, they usually expressed sorrow, and


swore by their gods that the guns had exploded


without their permission.  The youth, on guard


duty one night, conversed across the stream with


one of them.  He was a slightly ragged man, who


spat skillfully between his shoes and possessed a


great fund of bland and infantile assurance.  The


youth liked him personally.



"Yank," the other had informed him, "yer a


right dum good feller."  This sentiment, floating


to him upon the still air, had made him tempo-


rarily regret war.



Various veterans had told him tales.  Some


talked of gray, bewhiskered hordes who were


advancing with relentless curses and chewing


tobacco with unspeakable valor; tremendous


bodies of fierce soldiery who were sweeping


along like the Huns.  Others spoke of tattered


and eternally hungry men who fired despondent


powders.  "They'll charge through hell's fire an'


brimstone t' git a holt on a haversack, an' sech


stomachs ain't a-lastin' long," he was told.  From


the stories, the youth imagined the red, live bones


sticking out through slits in the faded uniforms.



Still, he could not put a whole faith in veter-


ans' tales, for recruits were their prey.  They


talked much of smoke, fire, and blood, but he


could not tell how much might be lies.  They


persistently yelled "Fresh fish!" at him, and were


in no wise to be trusted.



However, he perceived now that it did not


greatly matter what kind of soldiers he was going


to fight, so long as they fought, which fact no one


disputed.  There was a more serious problem.  He


lay in his bunk pondering upon it.  He tried to


mathematically prove to himself that he would


not run from a battle.



Previously he had never felt obliged to wrestle


too seriously with this question.  In his life he had


taken certain things for granted, never challeng-


ing his belief in ultimate success, and bothering


little about means and roads.  But here he was


confronted with a thing of moment.  It had sud-


denly appeared to him that perhaps in a battle he


might run.  He was forced to admit that as far as


war was concerned he knew nothing of himself.



A sufficient time before he would have allowed


the problem to kick its heels at the outer portals


of his mind, but now he felt compelled to give


serious attention to it.



A little panic-fear grew in his mind.  As his


imagination went forward to a fight, he saw hide-


ous possibilities.  He contemplated the lurking


menaces of the future, and failed in an effort to


see himself standing stoutly in the midst of them.


He recalled his visions of broken-bladed glory,


but in the shadow of the impending tumult he


suspected them to be impossible pictures.



He sprang from the bunk and began to pace


nervously to and fro.  "Good Lord, what's th'


matter with me?" he said aloud.



He felt that in this crisis his laws of life were


useless.  Whatever he had learned of himself was


here of no avail.  He was an unknown quantity.


He saw that he would again be obliged to experi-


ment as he had in early youth.  He must accumu-


late information of himself, and meanwhile he re-


solved to remain close upon his guard lest those


qualities of which he knew nothing should ever-


lastingly disgrace him.  "Good Lord!" he re-


peated in dismay.



After a time the tall soldier slid dexterously


through the hole.  The loud private followed.


They were wrangling.



"That's all right," said the tall soldier as he


entered.  He waved his hand expressively.  "You


can believe me or not, jest as you like.  All you


got to do is to sit down and wait as quiet as you


can.  Then pretty soon you'll find out I was right."



His comrade grunted stubbornly.  For a mo-


ment he seemed to be searching for a formidable


reply.  Finally he said: "Well, you don't know


everything in the world, do you?"



"Didn't say I knew everything in the world,"


retorted the other sharply.  He began to stow


various articles snugly into his knapsack.



The youth, pausing in his nervous walk, looked


down at the busy figure.  "Going to be a battle,


sure, is there, Jim?" he asked.



"Of course there is," replied the tall soldier.


"Of course there is.  You jest wait 'til to-morrow,


and you'll see one of the biggest battles ever was.


You jest wait."



"Thunder!der!" said the youth.



"Oh, you'll see fighting this time, my boy,


what'll be regular out-and-out fighting," added


the tall soldier, with the air of a man who is


about to exhibit a battle for the benefit of his


friends.



"Huh!" said the loud one from a corner.



"Well," remarked the youth, "like as not this


story'll turn out jest like them others did."



"Not much it won't," replied the tall soldier,


exasperated.  "Not much it won't.  Didn't the


cavalry all start this morning?"  He glared about


him.  No one denied his statement.  "The cav-


alry started this morning," he continued.  "They


say there ain't hardly any cavalry left in camp.


They're going to Richmond, or some place, while


we fight all the Johnnies.  It's some dodge like


that.  The regiment's got orders, too.  A feller


what seen 'em go to headquarters told me a little


while ago.  And they're raising blazes all over


camp--anybody can see that."



"Shucks!" said the loud one.



The youth remained silent for a time.  At last


he spoke to the tall soldier.  "Jim!"



"What?"



"How do you think the reg'ment 'll do?"



"Oh, they'll fight all right, I guess, after they


once get into it," said the other with cold judg-


ment.  He made a fine use of the third person.


"There's been heaps of fun poked at 'em because


they're new, of course, and all that; but they'll


fight all right, I guess."



"Think any of the boys 'll run?" persisted the


youth.



"Oh, there may be a few of 'em run, but


there's them kind in every regiment, 'specially


when they first goes under fire," said the other


in a tolerant way.  "Of course it might happen


that the hull kit-and-boodle might start and run,


if some big fighting came first-off, and then again


they might stay and fight like fun.  But you can't


bet on nothing.  Of course they ain't never been


under fire yet, and it ain't likely they'll lick the


hull rebel army all-to-oncet the first time; but I


think they'll fight better than some, if worse than


others.  That's the way I figger.  They call the


reg'ment 'Fresh fish' and everything; but the


boys come of good stock, and most of 'em 'll fight


like sin after they oncet git shootin'," he added,


with a mighty emphasis on the last four words.



"Oh, you think you know--" began the loud


soldier with scorn.



The other turned savagely upon him.  They


had a rapid altercation, in which they fastened


upon each other various strange epithets.



The youth at last interrupted them.  "Did


you ever think you might run yourself, Jim?" he


asked.  On concluding the sentence he laughed


as if he had meant to aim a joke.  The loud sol-


dier also giggled.



The tall private waved his hand.  "Well," said


he profoundly, "I've thought it might get too hot


for Jim Conklin in some of them scrimmages, and


if a whole lot of boys started and run, why, I


s'pose I'd start and run.  And if I once started to


run, I'd run like the devil, and no mistake.  But


if everybody was a-standing and a-fighting, why,


I'd stand and fight.  Be jiminey, I would.  I'll


bet on it."



"Huh!" said the loud one.



The youth of this tale felt gratitude for these


words of his comrade.  He had feared that all of


the untried men possessed a great and correct


confidence.  He now was in a measure reassured.



 


 


 


CHAPTER II.



 


THE next morning the youth discovered that


his tall comrade had been the fast-flying messen-


ger of a mistake.  There was much scoffing at


the latter by those who had yesterday been firm


adherents of his views, and there was even a lit-


tle sneering by men who had never believed the


rumor.  The tall one fought with a man from


Chatfield Corners and beat him severely.



The youth felt, however, that his problem was


in no wise lifted from him.  There was, on the


contrary, an irritating prolongation.  The tale


had created in him a great concern for himself.


Now, with the newborn question in his mind, he


was compelled to sink back into his old place as


part of a blue demonstration.



For days he made ceaseless calculations, but


they were all wondrously unsatisfactory.  He


found that he could establish nothing.  He final-


ly concluded that the only way to prove himself


was to go into the blaze, and then figuratively to



18


watch his legs to discover their merits and faults.


He reluctantly admitted that he could not sit


still and with a mental slate and pencil derive an


answer.  To gain it, he must have blaze, blood,


and danger, even as a chemist requires this, that,


and the other.  So he fretted for an opportunity.



Meanwhile he continually tried to measure


himself by his comrades.  The tall soldier, for


one, gave him some assurance.  This man's se-


rene unconcern dealt him a measure of con-


fidence, for he had known him since childhood,


and from his intimate knowledge he did not see


how he could be capable of anything that was


beyond him, the youth.  Still, he thought that


his comrade might be mistaken about himself.


Or, on the other hand, he might be a man here-


tofore doomed to peace and obscurity, but, in


reality, made to shine in war.



The youth would have liked to have discov-


ered another who suspected himself.  A sympa-


thetic comparison of mental notes would have


been a joy to him.



He occasionally tried to fathom a comrade


with seductive sentences.  He looked about to


find men in the proper mood.  All attempts


failed to bring forth any statement which looked


in any way like a confession to those doubts


which he privately acknowledged in himself.


He was afraid to make an open declaration of


his concern, because he dreaded to place some


unscrupulous confidant upon the high plane of


the unconfessed from which elevation he could


be derided.



In regard to his companions his mind wa-


vered between two opinions, according to his


mood.  Sometimes he inclined to believing them


all heroes.  In fact, he usually admitted in secret


the superior development of the higher qualities


in others.  He could conceive of men going very


insignificantly about the world bearing a load of


courage unseen, and although he had known


many of his comrades through boyhood, he be-


gan to fear that his judgment of them had been


blind.  Then, in other moments, he flouted these


theories, and assured himself that his fellows


were all privately wondering and quaking.



His emotions made him feel strange in the


presence of men who talked excitedly of a pro-


spective battle as of a drama they were about to


witness, with nothing but eagerness and curiosity


apparent in their faces.  It was often that he sus-


pected them to be liars.



He did not pass such thoughts without severe


condemnation of himself.  He dinned reproaches


at times.  He was convicted by himself of many


shameful crimes against the gods of traditions.



In his great anxiety his heart was continually


clamoring at what he considered the intolerable


slowness of the generals.  They seemed content


to perch tranquilly on the river bank, and leave


him bowed down by the weight of a great prob-


lem.  He wanted it settled forthwith.  He could


not long bear such a load, he said.  Sometimes


his anger at the commanders reached an acute


stage, and he grumbled about the camp like a


veteran.



One morning, however, he found himself in


the ranks of his prepared regiment.  The men


were whispering speculations and recounting the


old rumors.  In the gloom before the break of


the day their uniforms glowed a deep purple


hue.  From across the river the red eyes were


still peering.  In the eastern sky there was a yel-


low patch like a rug laid for the feet of the com-


ing sun; and against it, black and patternlike,


loomed the gigantic figure of the colonel on a


gigantic horse.



From off in the darkness came the trampling


of feet.  The youth could occasionally see dark


shadows that moved like monsters.  The regi-


ment stood at rest for what seemed a long time.


The youth grew impatient.  It was unendurable


the way these affairs were managed.  He won-


dered how long they were to be kept waiting.



As he looked all about him and pondered


upon the mystic gloom, he began to believe that


at any moment the ominous distance might be


aflare, and the rolling crashes of an engagement


come to his ears.  Staring once at the red eyes


across the river, he conceived them to be grow-


ing larger, as the orbs of a row of dragons ad-


vancing.  He turned toward the colonel and saw


him lift his gigantic arm and calmly stroke his


mustache.



At last he heard from along the road at the


foot of the hill the clatter of a horse's galloping


hoofs.  It must be the coming of orders.  He


bent forward, scarce breathing.  The exciting


clickety-click, as it grew louder and louder,


seemed to be beating upon his soul.  Presently a


horseman with jangling equipment drew rein be-


fore the colonel of the regiment.  The two held


a short, sharp-worded conversation.  The men in


the foremost ranks craned their necks.



As the horseman wheeled his animal and gal-


loped away he turned to shout over his shoulder,


"Don't forget that box of cigars!"  The colonel


mumbled in reply.  The youth wondered what a


box of cigars had to do with war.



A moment later the regiment went swinging


off into the darkness.  It was now like one of


those moving monsters wending with many feet.


The air was heavy, and cold with dew.  A mass


of wet grass, marched upon, rustled like silk.



There was an occasional flash and glimmer


of steel from the backs of all these huge crawl-


ing reptiles.  From the road came creakings and


grumblings as some surly guns were dragged


away.



The men stumbled along still muttering specu-


lations.  There was a subdued debate.  Once a


man fell down, and as he reached for his rifle a


comrade, unseeing, trod upon his hand.  He of


the injured fingers swore bitterly and aloud.  A


low, tittering laugh went among his fellows.



Presently they passed into a roadway and


marched forward with easy strides.  A dark


regiment moved before them, and from behind


also came the tinkle of equipments on the bodies


of marching men.



The rushing yellow of the developing day


went on behind their backs.  When the sunrays


at last struck full and mellowingly upon the


earth, the youth saw that the landscape was


streaked with two long, thin, black columns


which disappeared on the brow of a hill in front


and rearward vanished in a wood.  They were


like two serpents crawling from the cavern of the


night.



The river was not in view.  The tall soldier


burst into praises of what he thought to be his


powers of perception.



Some of the tall one's companions cried with


emphasis that they, too, had evolved the same


thing, and they congratulated themselves upon


it.  But there were others who said that the tall


one's plan was not the true one at all.  They per-


sisted with other theories.  There was a vigorous


discussion.



The youth took no part in them.  As he


walked along in careless line he was engaged


with his own eternal debate.  He could not hin-


der himself from dwelling upon it.  He was de-


spondent and sullen, and threw shifting glances


about him.  He looked ahead, often expecting to


hear from the advance the rattle of firing.



But the long serpents crawled slowly from


hill to hill without bluster of smoke.  A dun-col-


ored cloud of dust floated away to the right.


The sky overhead was of a fairy blue.



The youth studied the faces of his compan-


ions, ever on the watch to detect kindred emo-


tions.  He suffered disappointment.  Some ardor


of the air which was causing the veteran com-


mands to move with glee--almost with song--


had infected the new regiment.  The men began


to speak of victory as of a thing they knew.


Also, the tall soldier received his vindication.


They were certainly going to come around in


behind the enemy.  They expressed commisera-


tion for that part of the army which had been


left upon the river bank, felicitating themselves


upon being a part of a blasting host.



The youth, considering himself as separated


from the others, was saddened by the blithe and


merry speeches that went from rank to rank.


The company wags all made their best endeav-


ors.  The regiment tramped to the tune of


laughter.



The blatant soldier often convulsed whole


files by his biting sarcasms aimed at the tall one.



And it was not long before all the men seemed


to forget their mission.  Whole brigades grinned


in unison, and regiments laughed.



A rather fat soldier attempted to pilfer a horse


from a dooryard.  He planned to load his knap-


sack upon it.  He was escaping with his prize


when a young girl rushed from the house and


grabbed the animal's mane.  There followed a


wrangle.  The young girl, with pink cheeks and


shining eyes, stood like a dauntless statue.



The observant regiment, standing at rest in


the roadway, whooped at once, and entered


whole-souled upon the side of the maiden.  The


men became so engrossed in this affair that they


entirely ceased to remember their own large war.


They jeered the piratical private, and called


attention to various defects in his personal ap-


pearance; and they were wildly enthusiastic in


support of the young girl.



To her, from some distance, came bold advice.


"Hit him with a stick."



There were crows and catcalls showered


upon him when he retreated without the horse.


The regiment rejoiced at his downfall.  Loud


and vociferous congratulations were showered


upon the maiden, who stood panting and regard-


ing the troops with defiance.



At nightfall the column broke into regimental


pieces, and the fragments went into the fields to


camp.  Tents sprang up like strange plants.


Camp fires, like red, peculiar blossoms, dotted


the night.



The youth kept from intercourse with his


companions as much as circumstances would


allow him.  In the evening he wandered a few


paces into the gloom.  From this little distance


the many fires, with the black forms of men pass-


ing to and fro before the crimson rays, made


weird and satanic effects.



He lay down in the grass.  The blades


pressed tenderly against his cheek.  The moon


had been lighted and was hung in a treetop.


The liquid stillness of the night enveloping him


made him feel vast pity for himself.  There was


a caress in the soft winds; and the whole mood


of the darkness, he thought, was one of sympathy


for himself in his distress.



He wished, without reserve, that he was at


home again making the endless rounds from the


house to the barn, from the barn to the fields,


from the fields to the barn, from the barn to the


house.  He remembered he had often cursed the


brindle cow and her mates, and had sometimes


flung milking stools.  But, from his present point


of view, there was a halo of happiness about each


of their heads, and he would have sacrificed all


the brass buttons on the continent to have been


enabled to return to them.  He told himself that


he was not formed for a soldier.  And he mused


seriously upon the radical differences between


himself and those men who were dodging imp-


like around the fires.



As he mused thus he heard the rustle of grass,


and, upon turning his head, discovered the loud


soldier.  He called out, "Oh, Wilson!"



The latter approached and looked down.


"Why, hello, Henry; is it you?  What you do-


ing here?"



"Oh, thinking," said the youth.



The other sat down and carefully lighted his


pipe.  "You're getting blue, my boy.  You're


looking thundering peeked.  What the dickens


is wrong with you?"



"Oh, nothing," said the youth.



The loud soldier launched then into the sub-


ject of the anticipated fight.  "Oh, we've got


'em now!"  As he spoke his boyish face was


wreathed in a gleeful smile, and his voice had


an exultant ring.  "We've got 'em now.  At


last, by the eternal thunders, we'll lick 'em


good!"



"If the truth was known," he added, more


soberly, "THEY'VE licked US about every clip up to


now; but this time--this time--we'll lick 'em


good!"



"I thought you was objecting to this march


a little while ago," said the youth coldly.



"Oh, it wasn't that," explained the other.  "I


don't mind marching, if there's going to be fight-


ing at the end of it.  What I hate is this getting


moved here and moved there, with no good com-


ing of it, as far as I can see, excepting sore feet


and damned short rations."



"Well, Jim Conklin says we'll get a plenty of


fighting this time."



"He's right for once, I guess, though I can't


see how it come.  This time we're in for a big


battle, and we've got the best end of it, certain


sure.  Gee rod! how we will thump 'em!"



He arose and began to pace to and fro excit-


edly.  The thrill of his enthusiasm made him


walk with an elastic step.  He was sprightly,


vigorous, fiery in his belief in success.  He


looked into the future with clear, proud eye, and


he swore with the air of an old soldier.



The youth watched him for a moment in


silence.  When he finally spoke his voice was as


bitter as dregs.  "Oh, you're going to do great


things, I s'pose!"



The loud soldier blew a thoughtful cloud of


smoke from his pipe.  "Oh, I don't know," he


remarked with dignity; "I don't know.  I s'pose


I'll do as well as the rest.  I'm going to try like


thunder."  He evidently complimented himself


upon the modesty of this statement.



"How do you know you won't run when the


time comes?" asked the youth.



"Run?" said the loud one; "run?--of course


not!"  He laughed.



"Well," continued the youth, "lots of good-


a-'nough men have thought they was going to do


great things before the fight, but when the time


come they skedaddled."



"Oh, that's all true, I s'pose," replied the


other; "but I'm not going to skedaddle.  The


man that bets on my running will lose his money,


that's all."  He nodded confidently.



"Oh, shucks!" said the youth.  "You ain't


the bravest man in the world, are you?"



"No, I ain't," exclaimed the loud soldier in-


dignantly; "and I didn't say I was the bravest


man in the world, neither.  I said I was going to


do my share of fighting--that's what I said.  And


I am, too.  Who are you, anyhow.  You talk as


if you thought you was Napoleon Bonaparte."


He glared at the youth for a moment, and then


strode away.



The youth called in a savage voice after his


comrade: "Well, you needn't git mad about it!"


But the other continued on his way and made no


reply.



He felt alone in space when his injured com-


rade had disappeared.  His failure to discover


any mite of resemblance in their view points


made him more miserable than before.  No one


seemed to be wrestling with such a terrific per-


sonal problem.  He was a mental outcast.



He went slowly to his tent and stretched him-


self on a blanket by the side of the snoring tall


soldier.  In the darkness he saw visions of a thou-


sand-tongued fear that would babble at his back


and cause him to flee, while others were going


coolly about their country's business.  He admit-


ted that he would not be able to cope with this


monster.  He felt that every nerve in his body


would be an ear to hear the voices, while other


men would remain stolid and deaf.



And as he sweated with the pain of these


thoughts, he could hear low, serene sentences.


"I'll bid five."  "Make it six."  "Seven."


"Seven goes."



He stared at the red, shivering reflection of


a fire on the white wall of his tent until, ex-


hausted and ill from the monotony of his suf-


fering, he fell asleep.



 


 


 


CHAPTER III.



 


WHEN another night came the columns,


changed to purple streaks, filed across two pon-


toon bridges.  A glaring fire wine-tinted the


waters of the river.  Its rays, shining upon the


moving masses of troops, brought forth here and


there sudden gleams of silver or gold.  Upon


the other shore a dark and mysterious range of


hills was curved against the sky.  The insect


voices of the night sang solemnly.



After this crossing the youth assured himself


that at any moment they might be suddenly and


fearfully assaulted from the caves of the lowering


woods.  He kept his eyes watchfully upon the


darkness.



But his regiment went unmolested to a camp-


ing place, and its soldiers slept the brave sleep


of wearied men.  In the morning they were


routed out with early energy, and hustled along


a narrow road that led deep into the forest.



It was during this rapid march that the regi-



32


ment lost many of the marks of a new com-


mand.



The men had begun to count the miles upon


their fingers, and they grew tired.  "Sore feet


an' damned short rations, that's all," said the


loud soldier.  There was perspiration and grum-


blings.  After a time they began to shed their


knapsacks.  Some tossed them unconcernedly


down; others hid them carefully, asserting their


plans to return for them at some convenient


time.  Men extricated themselves from thick


shirts.  Presently few carried anything but their


necessary clothing, blankets, haversacks, canteens,


and arms and ammunition.  "You can now eat


and shoot," said the tall soldier to the youth.


"That's all you want to do."



There was sudden change from the ponderous


infantry of theory to the light and speedy infantry


of practice.  The regiment, relieved of a burden,


received a new impetus.  But there was much


loss of valuable knapsacks, and, on the whole,


very good shirts.



But the regiment was not yet veteranlike in


appearance.  Veteran regiments in the army


were likely to be very small aggregations of men.


Once, when the command had first come to the


field, some perambulating veterans, noting the


length of their column, had accosted them thus:


"Hey, fellers, what brigade is that?"  And when


the men had replied that they formed a regiment


and not a brigade, the older soldiers had laughed,


and said, "O Gawd!"



Also, there was too great a similarity in the


hats.  The hats of a regiment should properly


represent the history of headgear for a period of


years.  And, moreover, there were no letters of


faded gold speaking from the colors.  They were


new and beautiful, and the color bearer habitu-


ally oiled the pole.



Presently the army again sat down to think.


The odor of the peaceful pines was in the men's


nostrils.  The sound of monotonous axe blows


rang through the forest, and the insects, nodding


upon their perches, crooned like old women.


The youth returned to his theory of a blue dem-


onstration.



One gray dawn, however, he was kicked in


the leg by the tall soldier, and then, before he


was entirely awake, he found himself running


down a wood road in the midst of men who were


panting from the first effects of speed.  His can-


teen banged rhythmically upon his thigh, and his


haversack bobbed softly.  His musket bounced


a trifle from his shoulder at each stride and made


his cap feel uncertain upon his head.



He could hear the men whisper jerky sen-


tences: "Say--what's all this--about?"  "What


th' thunder--we--skedaddlin' this way fer?"


"Billie--keep off m' feet.  Yeh run--like a cow."


And the loud soldier's shrill voice could be


heard: "What th' devil they in sich a hurry for?"



The youth thought the damp fog of early


morning moved from the rush of a great body


of troops.  From the distance came a sudden


spatter of firing.



He was bewildered.  As he ran with his com-


rades he strenuously tried to think, but all he knew


was that if he fell down those coming behind


would tread upon him.  All his faculties seemed


to be needed to guide him over and past obstruc-


tions.  He felt carried along by a mob.



The sun spread disclosing rays, and, one by


one, regiments burst into view like armed men


just born of the earth.  The youth perceived


that the time had come.  He was about to be


measured.  For a moment he felt in the face of


his great trial like a babe, and the flesh over


his heart seemed very thin.  He seized time to


look about him calculatingly.



But he instantly saw that it would be impossi-


ble for him to escape from the regiment.  It in-


closed him.  And there were iron laws of tradi-


tion and law on four sides.  He was in a moving


box.



As he perceived this fact it occurred to him


that he had never wished to come to the war.


He had not enlisted of his free will.  He had


been dragged by the merciless government.  And


now they were taking him out to be slaughtered.



The regiment slid down a bank and wallowed


across a little stream.  The mournful current


moved slowly on, and from the water, shaded


black, some white bubble eyes looked at the men.



As they climbed the hill on the farther side


artillery began to boom.  Here the youth forgot


many things as he felt a sudden impulse of curi-


osity.  He scrambled up the bank with a speed


that could not be exceeded by a bloodthirsty


man.



He expected a battle scene.



There were some little fields girted and


squeezed by a forest.  Spread over the grass and


in among the tree trunks, he could see knots and


waving lines of skirmishers who were running


hither and thither and firing at the landscape.


A dark battle line lay upon a sunstruck clearing


that gleamed orange color.  A flag fluttered.



Other regiments floundered up the bank.  The


brigade was formed in line of battle, and after a


pause started slowly through the woods in the


rear of the receding skirmishers, who were con-


tinually melting into the scene to appear again


farther on.  They were always busy as bees,


deeply absorbed in their little combats.



The youth tried to observe everything.  He


did not use care to avoid trees and branches,


and his forgotten feet were constantly knocking


against stones or getting entangled in briers.


He was aware that these battalions with their


commotions were woven red and startling into


the gentle fabric of softened greens and browns.


It looked to be a wrong place for a battle field.



The skirmishers in advance fascinated him.


Their shots into thickets and at distant and


prominent trees spoke to him of tragedies--hid-


den, mysterious, solemn.



Once the line encountered the body of a dead


soldier.  He lay upon his back staring at the sky.


He was dressed in an awkward suit of yellowish


brown.  The youth could see that the soles of his


shoes had been worn to the thinness of writing


paper, and from a great rent in one the dead foot


projected piteously.  And it was as if fate had


betrayed the soldier.  In death it exposed to his


enemies that poverty which in life he had perhaps


concealed from his friends.



The ranks opened covertly to avoid the corpse.


The invulnerable dead man forced a way for him-


self.  The youth looked keenly at the ashen face.


The wind raised the tawny beard.  It moved as


if a hand were stroking it.  He vaguely desired


to walk around and around the body and stare;


the impulse of the living to try to read in dead


eyes the answer to the Question.



During the march the ardor which the youth


had acquired when out of view of the field rapidly


faded to nothing.  His curiosity was quite easily


satisfied.  If an intense scene had caught him with


its wild swing as he came to the top of the bank,


he might have gone roaring on.  This advance


upon Nature was too calm.  He had opportunity


to reflect.  He had time in which to wonder


about himself and to attempt to probe his sensa-


tions.



Absurd ideas took hold upon him.  He


thought that he did not relish the landscape.


It threatened him.  A coldness swept over his


back, and it is true that his trousers felt to him


that they were no fit for his legs at all.



A house standing placidly in distant fields


had to him an ominous look.  The shadows of


the woods were formidable.  He was certain that


in this vista there lurked fierce-eyed hosts.  The


swift thought came to him that the generals did


not know what they were about.  It was all a


trap.  Suddenly those close forests would bristle


with rifle barrels.  Ironlike brigades would ap-


pear in the rear.  They were all going to be


sacrificed.  The generals were stupids.  The


enemy would presently swallow the whole com-


mand.  He glared about him, expecting to see


the stealthy approach of his death.



He thought that he must break from the ranks


and harangue his comrades.  They must not all


be killed like pigs; and he was sure it would


come to pass unless they were informed of these


dangers.  The generals were idiots to send them


marching into a regular pen.  There was but one


pair of eyes in the corps.  He would step forth


and make a speech.  Shrill and passionate words


came to his lips.



The line, broken into moving fragments by the


ground, went calmly on through fields and woods.


The youth looked at the men nearest him, and


saw, for the most part, expressions of deep inter-


est, as if they were investigating something that


had fascinated them.  One or two stepped with


overvaliant airs as if they were already plunged


into war.  Others walked as upon thin ice.  The


greater part of the untested men appeared quiet


and absorbed.  They were going to look at war,


the red animal--war, the blood-swollen god.  And


they were deeply engrossed in this march.



As he looked the youth gripped his outcry at


his throat.  He saw that even if the men were


tottering with fear they would laugh at his warn-


ing.  They would jeer him, and, if practicable,


pelt him with missiles.  Admitting that he might


be wrong, a frenzied declamation of the kind


would turn him into a worm.



He assumed, then, the demeanor of one who


knows that he is doomed alone to unwritten re-


sponsibilities.  He lagged, with tragic glances at


the sky.



He was surprised presently by the young lieu-


tenant of his company, who began heartily to


beat him with a sword, calling out in a loud and


insolent voice: "Come, young man, get up into


ranks there.  No skulking'll do here."  He mend-


ed his pace with suitable haste.  And he hated


the lieutenant, who had no appreciation of fine


minds.  He was a mere brute.



After a time the brigade was halted in the


cathedral light of a forest.  The busy skirmish-


ers were still popping.  Through the aisles of


the wood could be seen the floating smoke from


their rifles.  Sometimes it went up in little balls,


white and compact.



During this halt many men in the regiment


began erecting tiny hills in front of them.  They


used stones, sticks, earth, and anything they


thought might turn a bullet.  Some built com-


paratively large ones, while others seemed con-


tent with little ones.



This procedure caused a discussion among the


men.  Some wished to fight like duelists, believ-


ing it to be correct to stand erect and be, from


their feet to their foreheads, a mark.  They said


they scorned the devices of the cautious.  But


the others scoffed in reply, and pointed to the


veterans on the flanks who were digging at the


ground like terriers.  In a short time there was


quite a barricade along the regimental fronts.


Directly, however, they were ordered to with-


draw from that place.



This astounded the youth.  He forgot his


stewing over the advance movement.  "Well,


then, what did they march us out here for?" he


demanded of the tall soldier.  The latter with


calm faith began a heavy explanation, although


he had been compelled to leave a little protection


of stones and dirt to which he had devoted much


care and skill.



When the regiment was aligned in another


position each man's regard for his safety caused


another line of small intrenchments.  They ate


their noon meal behind a third one.  They were


moved from this one also.  They were marched


from place to place with apparent aimlessness.



The youth had been taught that a man be-


came another thing in a battle.  He saw his sal-


vation in such a change.  Hence this waiting


was an ordeal to him.  He was in a fever of im-


patience.  He considered that there was denoted


a lack of purpose on the part of the generals.


He began to complain to the tall soldier.  "I


can't stand this much longer," he cried.  "I


don't see what good it does to make us wear


out our legs for nothin'."  He wished to return


to camp, knowing that this affair was a blue


demonstration; or else to go into a battle and


discover that he had been a fool in his doubts,


and was, in truth, a man of traditional courage.


The strain of present circumstances he felt to be


intolerable.



The philosophical tall soldier measured a sand-


wich of cracker and pork and swallowed it in a


nonchalant manner.  "Oh, I suppose we must go


reconnoitering around the country jest to keep


'em from getting too close, or to develop 'em, or


something."



"Huh!" said the loud soldier.



"Well," cried the youth, still fidgeting, "I'd


rather do anything 'most than go tramping 'round


the country all day doing no good to nobody and


jest tiring ourselves out."



"So would I," said the loud soldier.  "It ain't


right.  I tell you if anybody with any sense was


a-runnin' this army it--"



"Oh, shut up!" roared the tall private.  "You


little fool.  You little damn' cuss.  You ain't had


that there coat and them pants on for six months,


and yet you talk as if--"



"Well, I wanta do some fighting anyway,"


interrupted the other.  "I didn't come here to


walk.  I could 'ave walked to home--'round an'


'round the barn, if I jest wanted to walk."



The tall one, red-faced, swallowed another


sandwich as if taking poison in despair.



But gradually, as he chewed, his face became


again quiet and contented.  He could not rage


in fierce argument in the presence of such sand-


wiches.  During his meals he always wore an air


of blissful contemplation of the food he had swal-


lowed.  His spirit seemed then to be communing


with the viands.



He accepted new environment and circum-


stance with great coolness, eating from his haver-


sack at every opportunity.  On the march he


went along with the stride of a hunter, object-


ing to neither gait nor distance.  And he had


not raised his voice when he had been ordered


away from three little protective piles of earth


and stone, each of which had been an engineer-


ing feat worthy of being made sacred to the name


of his grandmother.



In the afternoon the regiment went out over


the same ground it had taken in the morn-


ing.  The landscape then ceased to threaten the


youth.  He had been close to it and become


familiar with it.



When, however, they began to pass into a


new region, his old fears of stupidity and in-


competence reassailed him, but this time he dog-


gedly let them babble.  He was occupied with


his problem, and in his desperation he concluded


that the stupidity did not greatly matter.



Once he thought he had concluded that it


would be better to get killed directly and end


his troubles.  Regarding death thus out of the


corner of his eye, he conceived it to be noth-


ing but rest, and he was filled with a momen-


tary astonishment that he should have made an


extraordinary commotion over the mere matter


of getting killed.  He would die; he would go


to some place where he would be understood.


It was useless to expect appreciation of his pro-


found and fine senses from such men as the lieu-


tenant.  He must look to the grave for compre-


hension.



The skirmish fire increased to a long chatter-


ing sound.  With it was mingled far-away cheer-


ing.  A battery spoke.



Directly the youth would see the skirmishers


running.  They were pursued by the sound of


musketry fire.  After a time the hot, dangerous


flashes of the rifles were visible.  Smoke clouds


went slowly and insolently across the fields like


observant phantoms.  The din became crescendo,


like the roar of an oncoming train.



A brigade ahead of them and on the right


went into action with a rending roar.  It was


as if it had exploded.  And thereafter it lay


stretched in the distance behind a long gray wall,


that one was obliged to look twice at to make


sure that it was smoke.



The youth, forgetting his neat plan of getting


killed, gazed spell bound.  His eyes grew wide


and busy with the action of the scene.  His


mouth was a little ways open.



Of a sudden he felt a heavy and sad hand laid


upon his shoulder.  Awakening from his trance


of observation he turned and beheld the loud


soldier.



"It's my first and last battle, old boy," said


the latter, with intense gloom.  He was quite


pale and his girlish lip was trembling.



"Eh?" murmured the youth in great aston-


ishment.



"It's my first and last battle, old boy,"


continued the loud soldier.  "Something tells


me--"



"What?"



"I'm a gone coon this first time and--and I


w-want you to take these here things--to--my--


folks."  He ended in a quavering sob of pity for


himself.  He handed the youth a little packet


done up in a yellow envelope.



"Why, what the devil--" began the youth


again.



But the other gave him a glance as from the


depths of a tomb, and raised his limp hand in a


prophetic manner and turned away.



 


 


 


CHAPTER IV.



 


THE brigade was halted in the fringe of a


grove.  The men crouched among the trees and


pointed their restless guns out at the fields.


They tried to look beyond the smoke.



Out of this haze they could see running men.


Some shouted information and gestured as they


hurried.



The men of the new regiment watched and


listened eagerly, while their tongues ran on in


gossip of the battle.  They mouthed rumors that


had flown like birds out of the unknown.



"They say Perry has been driven in with big


loss."



"Yes, Carrott went t' th' hospital.  He said he


was sick.  That smart lieutenant is commanding


'G' Company.  Th' boys say they won't be


under Carrott no more if they all have t' desert.


They allus knew he was a--"



"Hannises' batt'ry is took."



"It ain't either.  I saw Hannises' batt'ry off on


th' left not more'n fifteen minutes ago."



47



 


"Well--"



"Th' general, he ses he is goin' t' take th' hull


cammand of th' 304th when we go inteh action,


an' then he ses we'll do sech fightin' as never


another one reg'ment done."



"They say we're catchin' it over on th' left.


They say th' enemy driv' our line inteh a devil of


a swamp an' took Hannises' batt'ry."



"No sech thing.  Hannises' batt'ry was 'long


here 'bout a minute ago."



"That young Hasbrouck, he makes a good


off'cer.  He ain't afraid 'a nothin'."



"I met one of th' 148th Maine boys an' he ses


his brigade fit th' hull rebel army fer four hours


over on th' turnpike road an' killed about five


thousand of 'em.  He ses one more sech fight as


that an' th' war 'll be over."



"Bill wasn't scared either.  No, sir!  It wasn't


that.  Bill ain't a-gittin' scared easy.  He was


jest mad, that's what he was.  When that feller


trod on his hand, he up an' sed that he was willin'


t' give his hand t' his country, but he be dumbed


if he was goin' t' have every dumb bushwhacker


in th' kentry walkin' 'round on it.  Se he went t'


th' hospital disregardless of th' fight.  Three


fingers was crunched.  Th' dern doctor wanted


t' amputate 'm, an' Bill, he raised a heluva row, I


hear.  He's a funny feller."



The din in front swelled to a tremendous


chorus.  The youth and his fellows were frozen


to silence.  They could see a flag that tossed in


the smoke angrily.  Near it were the blurred and


agitated forms of troops.  There came a turbulent


stream of men across the fields.  A battery chang-


ing position at a frantic gallop scattered the


stragglers right and left.



A shell screaming like a storm banshee went


over the huddled heads of the reserves.  It landed


in the grove, and exploding redly flung the brown


earth.  There was a little shower of pine needles.



Bullets began to whistle among the branches


and nip at the trees.  Twigs and leaves came


sailing down.  It was as if a thousand axes, wee


and invisible, were being wielded.  Many of the


men were constantly dodging and ducking their


heads.



The lieutenant of the youth's company was


shot in the hand.  He began to swear so won-


drously that a nervous laugh went along the regi-


mental line.  The officer's profanity sounded


conventional.  It relieved the tightened senses of


the new men.  It was as if he had hit his fingers


with a tack hammer at home.



He held the wounded member carefully away


from his side so that the blood would not drip


upon his trousers.



The captain of the company, tucking his sword


under his arm, produced a handkerchief and


began to bind with it the lieutenant's wound.


And they disputed as to how the binding should


be done.



The battle flag in the distance jerked about


madly.  It seemed to be struggling to free itself


from an agony.  The billowing smoke was filled


with horizontal flashes.



Men running swiftly emerged from it.  They


grew in numbers until it was seen that the whole


command was fleeing.  The flag suddenly sank


down as if dying.  Its motion as it fell was a


gesture of despair.



Wild yells came from behind the walls of


smoke.  A sketch in gray and red dissolved into


a moblike body of men who galloped like wild


horses.



The veteran regiments on the right and left of


the 304th immediately began to jeer.  With the


passionate song of the bullets and the banshee


shrieks of shells were mingled loud catcalls and


bits of facetious advice concerning places of safety.



But the new regiment was breathless with hor-


ror.  "Gawd!  Saunders's got crushed!" whis-


pered the man at the youth's elbow.  They


shrank back and crouched as if compelled to


await a flood.



The youth shot a swift glance along the blue


ranks of the regiment.  The profiles were motion-


less, carven; and afterward he remembered that


the color sergeant was standing with his legs


apart, as if he expected to be pushed to the


ground.



The following throng went whirling around


the flank.  Here and there were officers carried


along on the stream like exasperated chips.  They


were striking about them with their swords


and with their left fists, punching every head


they could reach.  They cursed like highway-


men.



A mounted officer displayed the furious anger


of a spoiled child.  He raged with his head, his


arms, and his legs.



Another, the commander of the brigade, was


galloping about bawling.  His hat was gone and


his clothes were awry.  He resembled a man


who has come from bed to go to a fire.  The


hoofs of his horse often threatened the heads of


the running men, but they scampered with sin-


gular fortune.  In this rush they were apparently


all deaf and blind.  They heeded not the largest


and longest of the oaths that were thrown at


them from all directions.



Frequently over this tumult could be heard


the grim jokes of the critical veterans; but the


retreating men apparently were not even con-


scious of the presence of an audience.



The battle reflection that shone for an instant


in the faces on the mad current made the youth


feel that forceful hands from heaven would not


have been able to have held him in place if he


could have got intelligent control of his legs.



There was an appalling imprint upon these


faces.  The struggle in the smoke had pictured


an exaggeration of itself on the bleached cheeks


and in the eyes wild with one desire.



The sight of this stampede exerted a floodlike


force that seemed able to drag sticks and stones


and men from the ground.  They of the reserves


had to hold on.  They grew pale and firm, and


red and quaking.



The youth achieved one little thought in the


midst of this chaos.  The composite monster


which had caused the other troops to flee had


not then appeared.  He resolved to get a view


of it, and then, he thought he might very likely


run better than the best of them.



 


 


 


CHAPTER V.



 


THERE were moments of waiting.  The youth


thought of the village street at home before the


arrival of the circus parade on a day in the


spring.  He remembered how he had stood, a


small, thrillful boy, prepared to follow the dingy


lady upon the white horse, or the band in its


faded chariot.  He saw the yellow road, the


lines of expectant people, and the sober houses.


He particularly remembered an old fellow who


used to sit upon a cracker box in front of the


store and feign to despise such exhibitions.  A


thousand details of color and form surged in his


mind.  The old fellow upon the cracker box ap-


peared in middle prominence.



Some one cried, "Here they come!"



There was rustling and muttering among the


men.  They displayed a feverish desire to have


every possible cartridge ready to their hands.


The boxes were pulled around into various posi-


tions, and adjusted with great care.  It was as if


seven hundred new bonnets were being tried on.



53



The tall soldier, having prepared his rifle, pro-


duced a red handkerchief of some kind.  He was


engaged in knitting it about his throat with ex-


quisite attention to its position, when the cry was


repeated up and down the line in a muffled roar


of sound.



"Here they come!  Here they come!"  Gun


locks clicked.



Across the smoke-infested fields came a brown


swarm of running men who were giving shrill


yells.  They came on, stooping and swinging


their rifles at all angles.  A flag, tilted forward,


sped near the front.



As he caught sight of them the youth was


momentarily startled by a thought that perhaps


his gun was not loaded.  He stood trying to


rally his faltering intellect so that he might rec-


ollect the moment when he had loaded, but he


could not.



A hatless general pulled his dripping horse to


a stand near the colonel of the 304th.  He shook


his fist in the other's face.  "You 've got to hold


'em back!" he shouted, savagely; "you 've got


to hold 'em back!"



In his agitation the colonel began to stammer.


"A-all r-right, General, all right, by Gawd!  We-


we'll do our--we-we'll d-d-do--do our best, Gen-


eral."  The general made a passionate gesture


and galloped away.  The colonel, perchance to


relieve his feelings, began to scold like a wet


parrot.  The youth, turning swiftly to make


sure that the rear was unmolested, saw the com-


mander regarding his men in a highly regretful


manner, as if he regretted above everything his


association with them.



The man at the youth's elbow was mumbling,


as if to himself: "Oh, we 're in for it now! oh,


we 're in for it now!"



The captain of the company had been pacing


excitedly to and fro in the rear.  He coaxed in


schoolmistress fashion, as to a congregation of


boys with primers.  His talk was an endless


repetition.  "Reserve your fire, boys--don't


shoot till I tell you--save your fire--wait till


they get close up--don't be damned fools--"



Perspiration streamed down the youth's face,


which was soiled like that of a weeping urchin.


He frequently, with a nervous movement, wiped


his eyes with his coat sleeve.  His mouth was


still a little ways open.



He got the one glance at the foe-swarming


field in front of him, and instantly ceased to de-


bate the question of his piece being loaded.  Be-


fore he was ready to begin--before he had an-


nounced to himself that he was about to fight--


he threw the obedient, well-balanced rifle into


position and fired a first wild shot.  Directly he


was working at his weapon like an automatic


affair.



He suddenly lost concern for himself, and for-


got to look at a menacing fate.  He became not a


man but a member.  He felt that something of


which he was a part--a regiment, an army, a


cause, or a country--was in a crisis.  He was


welded into a common personality which was


dominated by a single desire.  For some mo-


ments he could not flee no more than a little


finger can commit a revolution from a hand.



If he had thought the regiment was about to


be annihilated perhaps he could have amputated


himself from it.  But its noise gave him assur-


ance.  The regiment was like a firework that,


once ignited, proceeds superior to circumstances


until its blazing vitality fades.  It wheezed and


banged with a mighty power.  He pictured the


ground before it as strewn with the discom-


fited.



There was a consciousness always of the pres-


ence of his comrades about him.  He felt the


subtle battle brotherhood more potent even than


the cause for which they were fighting.  It was a


mysterious fraternity born of the smoke and dan-


ger of death.



He was at a task.  He was like a carpenter


who has made many boxes, making still another


box, only there was furious haste in his move-


ments.  He, in his thought, was careering off in


other places, even as the carpenter who as he


works whistles and thinks of his friend or his


enemy, his home or a saloon.  And these jolted


dreams were never perfect to him afterward, but


remained a mass of blurred shapes.



Presently he began to feel the effects of the


war atmosphere--a blistering sweat, a sensation


that his eyeballs were about to crack like hot


stones.  A burning roar filled his ears.



Following this came a red rage.  He devel-


oped the acute exasperation of a pestered animal,


a well-meaning cow worried by dogs.  He had a


mad feeling against his rifle, which could only be


used against one life at a time.  He wished to


rush forward and strangle with his fingers.  He


craved a power that would enable him to make a


world-sweeping gesture and brush all back.  His


impotency appeared to him, and made his rage


into that of a driven beast.



Buried in the smoke of many rifles his anger


was directed not so much against the men whom


he knew were rushing toward him as against the


swirling battle phantoms which were choking


him, stuffing their smoke robes down his parched


throat.  He fought frantically for respite for his


senses, for air, as a babe being smothered attacks


the deadly blankets.



There was a blare of heated rage mingled with


a certain expression of intentness on all faces.


Many of the men were making low-toned noises


with their mouths, and these subdued cheers,


snarls, imprecations, prayers, made a wild, bar-


baric song that went as an undercurrent of sound,


strange and chantlike with the resounding chords


of the war march.  The man at the youth's elbow


was babbling.  In it there was something soft and


tender like the monologue of a babe.  The tall


soldier was swearing in a loud voice.  From his


lips came a black procession of curious oaths.  Of


a sudden another broke out in a querulous way


like a man who has mislaid his hat.  "Well, why


don't they support us?  Why don't they send


supports?  Do they think--"



The youth in his battle sleep heard this as one


who dozes hears.



There was a singular absence of heroic poses.


The men bending and surging in their haste and


rage were in every impossible attitude.  The steel


ramrods clanked and clanged with incessant din


as the men pounded them furiously into the hot


rifle barrels.  The flaps of the cartridge boxes were


all unfastened, and bobbed idiotically with each


movement.  The rifles, once loaded, were jerked


to the shoulder and fired without apparent aim


into the smoke or at one of the blurred and shift-


ing forms which upon the field before the regi-


ment had been growing larger and larger like


puppets under a magician's hand.



The officers, at their intervals, rearward, neg-


lected to stand in picturesque attitudes.  They


were bobbing to and fro roaring directions and


encouragements.  The dimensions of their howls


were extraordinary.  They expended their lungs


with prodigal wills.  And often they nearly stood


upon their heads in their anxiety to observe the


enemy on the other side of the tumbling smoke.



The lieutenant of the youth's company had en-


countered a soldier who had fled screaming at


the first volley of his comrades.  Behind the lines


these two were acting a little isolated scene.  The


man was blubbering and staring with sheeplike


eyes at the lieutenant, who had seized him by the


collar and was pommeling him.  He drove him


back into the ranks with many blows.  The sol-


dier went mechanically, dully, with his animal-


like eyes upon the officer.  Perhaps there was to


him a divinity expressed in the voice of the other


--stern, hard, with no reflection of fear in it.  He


tried to reload his gun, but his shaking hands pre-


vented.  The lieutenant was obliged to assist him.



The men dropped here and there like bundles.


The captain of the youth's company had been


killed in an early part of the action.  His body


lay stretched out in the position of a tired man


resting, but upon his face there was an astonished


and sorrowful look, as if he thought some friend


had done him an ill turn.  The babbling man was


grazed by a shot that made the blood stream


widely down his face.  He clapped both hands


to his head.  "Oh!" he said, and ran.  Another


grunted suddenly as if he had been struck by a


club in the stomach.  He sat down and gazed


ruefully.  In his eyes there was mute, indefinite


reproach.  Farther up the line a man, standing


behind a tree, had had his knee joint splintered


by a ball.  Immediately he had dropped his rifle


and gripped the tree with both arms.  And there


he remained, clinging desperately and crying for


assistance that he might withdraw his hold upon


the tree.



At last an exultant yell went along the quiver-


ing line.  The firing dwindled from an uproar to


a last vindictive popping.  As the smoke slowly


eddied away, the youth saw that the charge had


been repulsed.  The enemy were scattered into


reluctant groups.  He saw a man climb to the


top of the fence, straddle the rail, and fire a part-


ing shot.  The waves had receded, leaving bits of


dark debris upon the ground.



Some in the regiment began to whoop fren-


ziedly.  Many were silent.  Apparently they were


trying to contemplate themselves.



After the fever had left his veins, the youth


thought that at last he was going to suffocate.


He became aware of the foul atmosphere in


which he had been struggling.  He was grimy


and dripping like a laborer in a foundry.  He


grasped his canteen and took a long swallow of


the warmed water.



A sentence with variations went up and down


the line.  "Well, we 've helt 'em back.  We 've


helt 'em back; derned if we haven't."  The men


said it blissfully, leering at each other with dirty


smiles.



The youth turned to look behind him and off


to the right and off to the left.  He experienced


the joy of a man who at last finds leisure in which


to look about him.



Under foot there were a few ghastly forms


motionless.  They lay twisted in fantastic contor-


tions.  Arms were bent and heads were turned


in incredible ways.  It seemed that the dead men


must have fallen from some great height to get


into such positions.  They looked to be dumped


out upon the ground from the sky.



From a position in the rear of the grove a bat-


tery was throwing shells over it.  The flash of


the guns startled the youth at first.  He thought


they were aimed directly at him.  Through the


trees he watched the black figures of the gunners


as they worked swiftly and intently.  Their labor


seemed a complicated thing.  He wondered how


they could remember its formula in the midst of


confusion.



The guns squatted in a row like savage chiefs.


They argued with abrupt violence.  It was a


grim pow-wow.  Their busy servants ran hither


and thither.



A small procession of wounded men were go-


ing drearily toward the rear.  It was a flow of


blood from the torn body of the brigade.



To the right and to the left were the dark


lines of other troops.  Far in front he thought he


could see lighter masses protruding in points


from the forest.  They were suggestive of un-


numbered thousands.



Once he saw a tiny battery go dashing along


the line of the horizon.  The tiny riders were


beating the tiny horses.



From a sloping hill came the sound of cheer-


ings and clashes.  Smoke welled slowly through


the leaves.



Batteries were speaking with thunderous ora-


torical effort.  Here and there were flags, the


red in the stripes dominating.  They splashed


bits of warm color upon the dark lines of


troops.



The youth felt the old thrill at the sight of


the emblem.  They were like beautiful birds


strangely undaunted in a storm.



As he listened to the din from the hillside, to


a deep pulsating thunder that came from afar to


the left, and to the lesser clamors which came


from many directions, it occurred to him that


they were fighting, too, over there, and over


there, and over there.  Heretofore he had sup-


posed that all the battle was directly under his


nose.



As he gazed around him the youth felt a flash


of astonishment at the blue, pure sky and the


sun gleamings on the trees and fields.  It was


surprising that Nature had gone tranquilly on


with her golden process in the midst of so much


devilment.



 


 


 


CHAPTER VI.



 


THE youth awakened slowly.  He came grad-


ually back to a position from which he could re-


gard himself.  For moments he had been scruti-


nizing his person in a dazed way as if he had


never before seen himself.  Then he picked up


his cap from the ground.  He wriggled in his


jacket to make a more comfortable fit, and kneel-


ing relaced his shoe.  He thoughtfully mopped


his reeking features.



So it was all over at last!  The supreme trial


had been passed.  The red, formidable difficulties


of war had been vanquished.



He went into an ecstasy of self-satisfaction.


He had the most delightful sensations of his life.


Standing as if apart from himself, he viewed that


last scene.  He perceived that the man who had


fought thus was magnificent.



He felt that he was a fine fellow.  He saw


himself even with those ideals which he had con-


sidered as far beyond him.  He smiled in deep


gratification.



64



Upon his fellows he beamed tenderness and


good will.  "Gee! ain't it hot, hey?" he said


affably to a man who was polishing his stream-


ing face with his coat sleeves.



"You bet!" said the other, grinning sociably.


"I never seen sech dumb hotness."  He sprawled


out luxuriously on the ground.  "Gee, yes!  An'


I hope we don't have no more fightin' till a week


from Monday."



There were some handshakings and deep


speeches with men whose features were familiar,


but with whom the youth now felt the bonds of


tied hearts.  He helped a cursing comrade to


bind up a wound of the shin.



But, of a sudden, cries of amazement broke


out along the ranks of the new regiment.  "Here


they come ag'in!  Here they come ag'in!"  The


man who had sprawled upon the ground started


up and said, "Gosh!"



The youth turned quick eyes upon the field.


He discerned forms begin to swell in masses out


of a distant wood.  He again saw the tilted flag


speeding forward.



The shells, which had ceased to trouble the


regiment for a time, came swirling again, and ex-


ploded in the grass or among the leaves of the


trees.  They looked to be strange war flowers


bursting into fierce bloom.



The men groaned.  The luster faded from


their eyes.  Their smudged countenances now


expressed a profound dejection.  They moved


their stiffened bodies slowly, and watched in sul-


len mood the frantic approach of the enemy.  The


slaves toiling in the temple of this god began to


feel rebellion at his harsh tasks.



They fretted and complained each to each.


"Oh, say, this is too much of a good thing!  Why


can't somebody send us supports?"



"We ain't never goin' to stand this second


banging.  I didn't come here to fight the hull


damn' rebel army."



There was one who raised a doleful cry.  "I


wish Bill Smithers had trod on my hand, in-


steader me treddin' on his'n."  The sore joints of


the regiment creaked as it painfully floundered


into position to repulse.



The youth stared.  Surely, he thought, this


impossible thing was not about to happen.  He


waited as if he expected the enemy to suddenly


stop, apologize, and retire bowing.  It was all a


mistake.



But the firing began somewhere on the regi-


mental line and ripped along in both directions.


The level sheets of flame developed great clouds


of smoke that tumbled and tossed in the mild


wind near the ground for a moment, and then


rolled through the ranks as through a gate.  The


clouds were tinged an earthlike yellow in the


sunrays and in the shadow were a sorry blue.


The flag was sometimes eaten and lost in this


mass of vapor, but more often it projected, sun-


touched, resplendent.



Into the youth's eyes there came a look that


one can see in the orbs of a jaded horse.  His


neck was quivering with nervous weakness and


the muscles of his arms felt numb and bloodless.


His hands, too, seemed large and awkward as if


he was wearing invisible mittens.  And there was


a great uncertainty about his knee joints.



The words that comrades had uttered previous


to the firing began to recur to him.  "Oh, say,


this is too much of a good thing!  What do they


take us for--why don't they send supports?  I


didn't come here to fight the hull damned rebel


army."



He began to exaggerate the endurance, the


skill, and the valor of those who were coming.


Himself reeling from exhaustion, he was aston-


ished beyond measure at such persistency.  They


must be machines of steel.  It was very gloomy


struggling against such affairs, wound up perhaps


to fight until sundown.



He slowly lifted his rifle and catching a


glimpse of the thickspread field he blazed at a


cantering cluster.  He stopped then and began


to peer as best he could through the smoke.  He


caught changing views of the ground covered


with men who were all running like pursued


imps, and yelling.



To the youth it was an onslaught of redoubt-


able dragons.  He became like the man who lost


his legs at the approach of the red and green


monster.  He waited in a sort of a horrified,


listening attitude.  He seemed to shut his eyes


and wait to be gobbled.



A man near him who up to this time had been


working feverishly at his rifle suddenly stopped


and ran with howls.  A lad whose face had borne


an expression of exalted courage, the majesty of


he who dares give his life, was, at an instant,


smitten abject.  He blanched like one who has


come to the edge of a cliff at midnight and is sud-


denly made aware.  There was a revelation.  He,


too, threw down his gun and fled.  There was no


shame in his face.  He ran like a rabbit.



Others began to scamper away through the


smoke.  The youth turned his head, shaken from


his trance by this movement as if the regiment


was leaving him behind.  He saw the few fleeting


forms.



He yelled then with fright and swung about.


For a moment, in the great clamor, he was like a


proverbial chicken.  He lost the direction of


safety.  Destruction threatened him from all


points.



Directly he began to speed toward the rear in


great leaps.  His rifle and cap were gone.  His


unbuttoned coat bulged in the wind.  The flap of


his cartridge box bobbed wildly, and his canteen,


by its slender cord, swung out behind.  On his


face was all the horror of those things which he


imagined.



The lieutenant sprang forward bawling.  The


youth saw his features wrathfully red, and saw


him make a dab with his sword.  His one thought


of the incident was that the lieutenant was a pecul-


iar creature to feel interested in such matters


upon this occasion.



He ran like a blind man.  Two or three times


he fell down.  Once he knocked his shoulder so


heavily against a tree that he went headlong.



Since he had turned his back upon the fight


his fears had been wondrously magnified.  Death


about to thrust him between the shoulder blades


was far more dreadful than death about to smite


him between the eyes.  When he thought of it


later, he conceived the impression that it is better


to view the appalling than to be merely within


hearing.  The noises of the battle were like


stones; he believed himself liable to be crushed.



As he ran he mingled with others.  He


dimly saw men on his right and on his left, and


he heard footsteps behind him.  He thought that


all the regiment was fleeing, pursued by these


ominous crashes.



In his flight the sound of these following foot-


steps gave him his one meager relief.  He felt


vaguely that death must make a first choice of


the men who were nearest; the initial morsels for


the dragons would be then those who were fol-


lowing him.  So he displayed the zeal of an insane


sprinter in his purpose to keep them in the rear.


There was a race.



As he, leading, went across a little field, he


found himself in a region of shells.  They hurtled


over his head with long wild screams.  As he


listened he imagined them to have rows of cruel


teeth that grinned at him.  Once one lit before


him and the livid lightning of the explosion


effectually barred the way in his chosen direc-


tion.  He groveled on the ground and then


springing up went careering off through some


bushes.



He experienced a thrill of amazement when


he came within view of a battery in action.  The


men there seemed to be in conventional moods,


altogether unaware of the impending annihila-


tion.  The battery was disputing with a distant


antagonist and the gunners were wrapped in


admiration of their shooting.  They were con-


tinually bending in coaxing postures over the


guns.  They seemed to be patting them on the


back and encouraging them with words.  The


guns, stolid and undaunted, spoke with dogged


valor.



The precise gunners were coolly enthusiastic.


They lifted their eyes every chance to the smoke-


wreathed hillock from whence the hostile battery


addressed them.  The youth pitied them as he


ran.  Methodical idiots!  Machine-like fools!  The


refined joy of planting shells in the midst of the


other battery's formation would appear a little


thing when the infantry came swooping out of


the woods.



The face of a youthful rider, who was jerking


his frantic horse with an abandon of temper


he might display in a placid barnyard, was im-


pressed deeply upon his mind.  He knew that


he looked upon a man who would presently be


dead.



Too, he felt a pity for the guns, standing, six


good comrades, in a bold row.



He saw a brigade going to the relief of its pes-


tered fellows.  He scrambled upon a wee hill and


watched it sweeping finely, keeping formation in


difficult places.  The blue of the line was crusted


with steel color, and the brilliant flags projected.


Officers were shouting.



This sight also filled him with wonder.  The


brigade was hurrying briskly to be gulped into


the infernal mouths of the war god.  What man-


ner of men were they, anyhow?  Ah, it was some


wondrous breed!  Or else they didn't compre-


hend--the fools.



A furious order caused commotion in the artil-


lery.  An officer on a bounding horse made mani-


acal motions with his arms.  The teams went


swinging up from the rear, the guns were whirled


about, and the battery scampered away.  The


cannon with their noses poked slantingly at the


ground grunted and grumbled like stout men,


brave but with objections to hurry.



The youth went on, moderating his pace since


he had left the place of noises.



Later he came upon a general of division


seated upon a horse that pricked its ears in


an interested way at the battle.  There was a


great gleaming of yellow and patent leather


about the saddle and bridle.  The quiet man


astride looked mouse-colored upon such a splen-


did charger.



A jingling staff was galloping hither and


thither.  Sometimes the general was surrounded


by horsemen and at other times he was quite


alone.  He looked to be much harassed.  He had


the appearance of a business man whose market


is swinging up and down.



The youth went slinking around this spot.


He went as near as he dared trying to overhear


words.  Perhaps the general, unable to compre-


hend chaos, might call upon him for information.


And he could tell him.  He knew all concerning


it.  Of a surety the force was in a fix, and any


fool could see that if they did not retreat while


they had opportunity--why--



He felt that he would like to thrash the gen-


eral, or at least approach and tell him in plain


words exactly what he thought him to be.  It


was criminal to stay calmly in one spot and make


no effort to stay destruction.  He loitered in a


fever of eagerness for the division commander to


apply to him.



As he warily moved about, he heard the gen-


eral call out irritably: "Tompkins, go over an'


see Taylor, an' tell him not t' be in such an all-


fired hurry; tell him t' halt his brigade in th'


edge of th' woods; tell him t' detach a reg'ment


--say I think th' center 'll break if we don't help


it out some; tell him t' hurry up."



A slim youth on a fine chestnut horse caught


these swift words from the mouth of his superior.


He made his horse bound into a gallop almost


from a walk in his haste to go upon his mission.


There was a cloud of dust.



A moment later the youth saw the general


bounce excitedly in his saddle.



"Yes, by heavens, they have!"  The officer


leaned forward.  His face was aflame with excite-


ment.  "Yes, by heavens, they 've held 'im!


They 've held 'im!"



He began to blithely roar at his staff: "We 'll


wallop 'im now.  We 'll wallop 'im now.  We 've


got 'em sure."  He turned suddenly upon an aid:


"Here--you--Jones--quick--ride after Tompkins


--see Taylor--tell him t' go in--everlastingly--


like blazes--anything."



As another officer sped his horse after the first


messenger, the general beamed upon the earth


like a sun.  In his eyes was a desire to chant a


paean.  He kept repeating, "They 've held 'em,


by heavens!"



His excitement made his horse plunge, and he


merrily kicked and swore at it.  He held a little


carnival of joy on horseback.



 


 


CHAPTER VII.



 


THE youth cringed as if discovered in a crime.


By heavens, they had won after all!  The im-


becile line had remained and become victors.


He could hear cheering.



He lifted himself upon his toes and looked in


the direction of the fight.  A yellow fog lay wal-


lowing on the treetops.  From beneath it came


the clatter of musketry.  Hoarse cries told of an


advance.



He turned away amazed and angry.  He felt


that he had been wronged.



He had fled, he told himself, because annihila-


tion approached.  He had done a good part in


saving himself, who was a little piece of the army.


He had considered the time, he said, to be one in


which it was the duty of every little piece to res-


cue itself if possible.  Later the officers could fit


the little pieces together again, and make a battle


front.  If none of the little pieces were wise enough


to save themselves from the flurry of death at such



75


a time, why, then, where would be the army?  It


was all plain that he had proceeded according to


very correct and commendable rules.  His ac-


tions had been sagacious things.  They had been


full of strategy.  They were the work of a mas-


ter's legs.



Thoughts of his comrades came to him.  The


brittle blue line had withstood the blows and won.


He grew bitter over it.  It seemed that the blind


ignorance and stupidity of those little pieces had


betrayed him.  He had been overturned and


crushed by their lack of sense in holding the po-


sition, when intelligent deliberation would have


convinced them that it was impossible.  He, the


enlightened man who looks afar in the dark, had


fled because of his superior perceptions and


knowledge.  He felt a great anger against his


comrades.  He knew it could be proved that


they had been fools.



He wondered what they would remark when


later he appeared in camp.  His mind heard


howls of derision.  Their density would not en-


able them to understand his sharper point of


view.



He began to pity himself acutely.  He was


ill used.  He was trodden beneath the feet of an


iron injustice.  He had proceeded with wisdom


and from the most righteous motives under


heaven's blue only to be frustrated by hateful


circumstances.



A dull, animal-like rebellion against his fel-


lows, war in the abstract, and fate grew within


him.  He shambled along with bowed head, his


brain in a tumult of agony and despair.  When


he looked loweringly up, quivering at each


sound, his eyes had the expression of those of


a criminal who thinks his guilt and his pun-


ishment great, and knows that he can find no


words.



He went from the fields into a thick woods, as


if resolved to bury himself.  He wished to get


out of hearing of the crackling shots which were


to him like voices.



The ground was cluttered with vines and


bushes, and the trees grew close and spread out


like bouquets.  He was obliged to force his way


with much noise.  The creepers, catching against


his legs, cried out harshly as their sprays were


torn from the barks of trees.  The swishing sap-


lings tried to make known his presence to the


world.  He could not conciliate the forest.  As


he made his way, it was always calling out prot-


estations.  When he separated embraces of trees


and vines the disturbed foliages waved their arms


and turned their face leaves toward him.  He


dreaded lest these noisy motions and cries should


bring men to look at him.  So he went far, seek-


ing dark and intricate places.



After a time the sound of musketry grew faint


and the cannon boomed in the distance.  The sun,


suddenly apparent, blazed among the trees.  The


insects were making rhythmical noises.  They


seemed to be grinding their teeth in unison.  A


woodpecker stuck his impudent head around the


side of a tree.  A bird flew on lighthearted wing.



Off was the rumble of death.  It seemed now


that Nature had no ears.



This landscape gave him assurance.  A fair


field holding life.  It was the religion of peace.


It would die if its timid eyes were compelled to


see blood.  He conceived Nature to be a woman


with a deep aversion to tragedy.



He threw a pine cone at a jovial squirrel, and


he ran with chattering fear.  High in a treetop


he stopped, and, poking his head cautiously from


behind a branch, looked down with an air of trepi-


dation.



The youth felt triumphant at this exhibition.


There was the law, he said.  Nature had given


him a sign.  The squirrel, immediately upon rec-


ognizing danger, had taken to his legs without


ado.  He did not stand stolidly baring his furry


belly to the missile, and die with an upward


glance at the sympathetic heavens.  On the con-


trary, he had fled as fast as his legs could carry


him; and he was but an ordinary squirrel, too--


doubtless no philosopher of his race.  The youth


wended, feeling that Nature was of his mind.


She re-enforced his argument with proofs that


lived where the sun shone.



Once he found himself almost into a swamp.


He was obliged to walk upon bog tufts and


watch his feet to keep from the oily mire.  Paus-


ing at one time to look about him he saw, out at


some black water, a small animal pounce in and


emerge directly with a gleaming fish.



The youth went again into the deep thickets.


The brushed branches made a noise that drowned


the sounds of cannon.  He walked on, going from


obscurity into promises of a greater obscurity.



At length he reached a place where the high,


arching boughs made a chapel.  He softly pushed


the green doors aside and entered.  Pine needles


were a gentle brown carpet.  There was a reli-


gious half light.



Near the threshold he stopped, horror-stricken


at the sight of a thing.



He was being looked at by a dead man who


was seated with his back against a columnlike


tree.  The corpse was dressed in a uniform that


once had been blue, but was now faded to a mel-


ancholy shade of green.  The eyes, staring at the


youth, had changed to the dull hue to be seen on


the side of a dead fish.  The mouth was open.


Its red had changed to an appalling yellow.


Over the gray skin of the face ran little ants.


One was trundling some sort of a bundle along


the upper lip.



The youth gave a shriek as he confronted the


thing.  He was for moments turned to stone be-


fore it.  He remained staring into the liquid-look-


ing eyes.  The dead man and the living man ex-


changed a long look.  Then the youth cautiously


put one hand behind him and brought it against


a tree.  Leaning upon this he retreated, step by


step, with his face still toward the thing.  He


feared that if he turned his back the body might


spring up and stealthily pursue him.



The branches, pushing against him, threat-


ened to throw him over upon it.  His unguided


feet, too, caught aggravatingly in brambles; and


with it all he received a subtle suggestion to


touch the corpse.  As he thought of his hand


upon it he shuddered profoundly.



At last he burst the bonds which had fastened


him to the spot and fled, unheeding the under-


brush.  He was pursued by a sight of the black


ants swarming greedily upon the gray face and


venturing horribly near to the eyes.



After a time he paused, and, breathless and


panting, listened.  He imagined some strange


voice would come from the dead throat and


squawk after him in horrible menaces.



The trees about the portal of the chapel


moved soughingly in a soft wind.  A sad silence


was upon the little guarding edifice.



 


 


 


CHAPTER VIII.



 


THE trees began softly to sing a hymn of twi-


light.  The sun sank until slanted bronze rays


struck the forest.  There was a lull in the noises


of insects as if they had bowed their beaks and


were making a devotional pause.  There was


silence save for the chanted chorus of the trees.



Then, upon this stillness, there suddenly broke


a tremendous clangor of sounds.  A crimson roar


came from the distance.



The youth stopped.  He was transfixed by


this terrific medley of all noises.  It was as if


worlds were being rended.  There was the rip-


ping sound of musketry and the breaking crash


of the artillery.



His mind flew in all directions.  He conceived


the two armies to be at each other panther


fashion.  He listened for a time.  Then he began


to run in the direction of the battle.  He saw


that it was an ironical thing for him to be run-


ning thus toward that which he had been at such



82


pains to avoid.  But he said, in substance, to him-


self that if the earth and the moon were about to


clash, many persons would doubtless plan to get


upon the roofs to witness the collision.



As he ran, he became aware that the forest


had stopped its music, as if at last becoming


capable of hearing the foreign sounds.  The trees


hushed and stood motionless.  Everything seemed


to be listening to the crackle and clatter and ear-


shaking thunder.  The chorus pealed over the


still earth.



It suddenly occurred to the youth that the


fight in which he had been was, after all, but


perfunctory popping.  In the hearing of this


present din he was doubtful if he had seen real


battle scenes.  This uproar explained a celes-


tial battle; it was tumbling hordes a-struggle in


the air.



Reflecting, he saw a sort of a humor in the


point of view of himself and his fellows during


the late encounter.  They had taken themselves


and the enemy very seriously and had imagined


that they were deciding the war.  Individuals


must have supposed that they were cutting the


letters of their names deep into everlasting tablets


of brass, or enshrining their reputations forever in


the hearts of their countrymen, while, as to fact,


the affair would appear in printed reports under a


meek and immaterial title.  But he saw that it was


good, else, he said, in battle every one would


surely run save forlorn hopes and their ilk.



He went rapidly on.  He wished to come to


the edge of the forest that he might peer out.



As he hastened, there passed through his mind


pictures of stupendous conflicts.  His accumulated


thought upon such subjects was used to form


scenes.  The noise was as the voice of an eloquent


being, describing.



Sometimes the brambles formed chains and


tried to hold him back.  Trees, confronting him,


stretched out their arms and forbade him to pass.


After its previous hostility this new resistance of


the forest filled him with a fine bitterness.  It


seemed that Nature could not be quite ready to


kill him.



But he obstinately took roundabout ways, and


presently he was where he could see long gray


walls of vapor where lay battle lines.  The voices


of cannon shook him.  The musketry sounded in


long irregular surges that played havoc with his


ears.  He stood regardant for a moment.  His


eyes had an awestruck expression.  He gawked


in the direction of the fight.



Presently he proceeded again on his forward


way.  The battle was like the grinding of an


immense and terrible machine to him.  Its com-


plexities and powers, its grim processes, fascinated


him.  He must go close and see it produce


corpses.



He came to a fence and clambered over it.


On the far side, the ground was littered with


clothes and guns.  A newspaper, folded up, lay


in the dirt.  A dead soldier was stretched with


his face hidden in his arm.  Farther off there


was a group of four or five corpses keeping


mournful company.  A hot sun had blazed upon


the spot.



In this place the youth felt that he was an


invader.  This forgotten part of the battle ground


was owned by the dead men, and he hurried, in


the vague apprehension that one of the swollen


forms would rise and tell him to begone.



He came finally to a road from which he


could see in the distance dark and agitated


bodies of troops, smoke-fringed.  In the lane


was a blood-stained crowd streaming to the rear.


The wounded men were cursing, groaning, and


wailing.  In the air, always, was a mighty swell


of sound that it seemed could sway the earth.


With the courageous words of the artillery and


the spiteful sentences of the musketry mingled


red cheers.  And from this region of noises came


the steady current of the maimed.



One of the wounded men had a shoeful of


blood.  He hopped like a schoolboy in a game.


He was laughing hysterically.



One was swearing that he had been shot in the


arm through the commanding general's misman-


agement of the army.  One was marching with


an air imitative of some sublime drum major.


Upon his features was an unholy mixture of


merriment and agony.  As he marched he sang


a bit of doggerel in a high and quavering voice:



 


"Sing a song 'a vic'try,


   A pocketful 'a bullets,


Five an' twenty dead men


   Baked in a--pie."



Parts of the procession limped and staggered to


this tune.



Another had the gray seal of death already


upon his face.  His lips were curled in hard lines


and his teeth were clinched.  His hands were


bloody from where he had pressed them upon his


wound.  He seemed to be awaiting the moment


when he should pitch headlong.  He stalked like


the specter of a soldier, his eyes burning with the


power of a stare into the unknown.



There were some who proceeded sullenly, full


of anger at their wounds, and ready to turn upon


anything as an obscure cause.



An officer was carried along by two privates.


He was peevish.  "Don't joggle so, Johnson, yeh


fool," he cried.  "Think m' leg is made of iron?


If yeh can't carry me decent, put me down an'


let some one else do it."



He bellowed at the tottering crowd who


blocked the quick march of his bearers.  "Say,


make way there, can't yeh?  Make way, dickens


take it all."



They sulkily parted and went to the road-


sides.  As he was carried past they made pert


remarks to him.  When he raged in reply and


threatened them, they told him to be damned.



The shoulder of one of the tramping bearers


knocked heavily against the spectral soldier who


was staring into the unknown.



The youth joined this crowd and marched


along with it.  The torn bodies expressed the


awful machinery in which the men had been


entangled.



Orderlies and couriers occasionally broke


through the throng in the roadway, scattering


wounded men right and left, galloping on fol-


lowed by howls.  The melancholy march was


continually disturbed by the messengers, and


sometimes by bustling batteries that came swing-


ing and thumping down upon them, the officers


shouting orders to clear the way.



There was a tattered man, fouled with dust,


blood and powder stain from hair to shoes, who


trudged quietly at the youth's side.  He was lis-


tening with eagerness and much humility to the


lurid descriptions of a bearded sergeant.  His


lean features wore an expression of awe and ad-


miration.  He was like a listener in a country


store to wondrous tales told among the sugar


barrels.  He eyed the story-teller with unspeak-


able wonder.  His mouth was agape in yokel


fashion.



The sergeant, taking note of this, gave pause


to his elaborate history while he administered a


sardonic comment.  "Be keerful, honey, you 'll


be a-ketchin' flies," he said.



The tattered man shrank back abashed.



After a time he began to sidle near to the


youth, and in a different way try to make him a


friend.  His voice was gentle as a girl's voice


and his eyes were pleading.  The youth saw


with surprise that the soldier had two wounds,


one in the head, bound with a blood-soaked rag,


and the other in the arm, making that member


dangle like a broken bough.



After they had walked together for some time


the tattered man mustered sufficient courage to


speak.  "Was pretty good fight, wa'n't it?"


he timidly said.  The youth, deep in thought,


glanced up at the bloody and grim figure with


its lamblike eyes.  "What?"



"Was pretty good fight, wa'n't it?



"Yes," said the youth shortly.  He quick-


ened his pace.



But the other hobbled industriously after him.


There was an air of apology in his manner, but


he evidently thought that he needed only to talk


for a time, and the youth would perceive that he


was a good fellow.



"Was pretty good fight, wa'n't it?" he began


in a small voice, and then he achieved the forti-


tude to continue.  "Dern me if I ever see fellers


fight so.  Laws, how they did fight!  I knowed


th' boys 'd like when they onct got square at it.


Th' boys ain't had no fair chanct up t' now, but


this time they showed what they was.  I knowed


it 'd turn out this way.  Yeh can't lick them boys.


No, sir!  They're fighters, they be."



He breathed a deep breath of humble ad-


miration.  He had looked at the youth for en-


couragement several times.  He received none,


but gradually he seemed to get absorbed in his


subject.



"I was talkin' 'cross pickets with a boy from


Georgie, onct, an' that boy, he ses, 'Your fellers


'll all run like hell when they onct hearn a gun,'


he ses.  'Mebbe they will,' I ses, 'but I don't


b'lieve none of it,' I ses; 'an' b'jiminey,' I ses back


t' 'um, 'mebbe your fellers 'll all run like hell


when they onct hearn a gun,' I ses.  He larfed.


Well, they didn't run t' day, did they, hey?  No,


sir!  They fit, an' fit, an' fit."



His homely face was suffused with a light of


love for the army which was to him all things


beautiful and powerful.



After a time he turned to the youth.  "Where


yeh hit, ol' boy?" he asked in a brotherly tone.



The youth felt instant panic at this question,


although at first its full import was not borne in


upon him.



"What?" he asked.



"Where yeh hit?" repeated the tattered man.



"Why," began the youth, "I--I--that is--


why--I--"



He turned away suddenly and slid through


the crowd.  His brow was heavily flushed, and


his fingers were picking nervously at one of his


buttons.  He bent his head and fastened his eyes


studiously upon the button as if it were a little


problem.



The tattered man looked after him in aston-


ishment.



 


 


 


CHAPTER IX.



 


THE youth fell back in the procession until


the tattered soldier was not in sight.  Then he


started to walk on with the others.



But he was amid wounds.  The mob of men


was bleeding.  Because of the tattered soldier's


question he now felt that his shame could be


viewed.  He was continually casting sidelong


glances to see if the men were contemplating the


letters of guilt he felt burned into his brow.



At times he regarded the wounded soldiers


in an envious way.  He conceived persons with


torn bodies to be peculiarly happy.  He wished


that he, too, had a wound, a red badge of cour-


age.



The spectral soldier was at his side like a


stalking reproach.  The man's eyes were still


fixed in a stare into the unknown.  His gray,


appalling face had attracted attention in the


crowd, and men, slowing to his dreary pace, were


walking with him.  They were discussing his


plight, questioning him and giving him advice.



91


In a dogged way he repelled them, signing to them


to go on and leave him alone.  The shadows of


his face were deepening and his tight lips seemed


holding in check the moan of great despair.


There could be seen a certain stiffness in the


movements of his body, as if he were taking


infinite care not to arouse the passion of his


wounds.  As he went on, he seemed always look-


ing for a place, like one who goes to choose a


grave.



Something in the gesture of the man as he


waved the bloody and pitying soldiers away


made the youth start as if bitten.  He yelled in


horror.  Tottering forward he laid a quivering


hand upon the man's arm.  As the latter slowly


turned his waxlike features toward him, the


youth screamed:



"Gawd!  Jim Conklin!"



The tall soldier made a little commonplace


smile.  "Hello, Henry," he said.



The youth swayed on his legs and glared


strangely.  He stuttered and stammered.  "Oh,


Jim--oh, Jim--oh, Jim--"



The tall soldier held out his gory hand.  There


was a curious red and black combination of new


blood and old blood upon it.  "Where yeh been,


Henry?" he asked.  He continued in a monoto-


nous voice, "I thought mebbe yeh got keeled


over.  There 's been thunder t' pay t'-day.  I was


worryin' about it a good deal."



The youth still lamented.  "Oh, Jim--oh, Jim


--oh, Jim--"



"Yeh know," said the tall soldier, "I was out


there."  He made a careful gesture.  "An',


Lord, what a circus!  An', b'jiminey, I got shot--


I got shot.  Yes, b'jiminey, I got shot."  He


reiterated this fact in a bewildered way, as if he


did not know how it came about.



The youth put forth anxious arms to assist


him, but the tall soldier went firmly on as if pro-


pelled.  Since the youth's arrival as a guardian


for his friend, the other wounded men had ceased


to display much interest.  They occupied them-


selves again in dragging their own tragedies


toward the rear.



Suddenly, as the two friends marched on, the


tall soldier seemed to be overcome by a terror.


His face turned to a semblance of gray paste.


He clutched the youth's arm and looked all about


him, as if dreading to be overheard.  Then he


began to speak in a shaking whisper:



"I tell yeh what I'm 'fraid of, Henry--I 'll tell


yeh what I 'm 'fraid of.  I 'm 'fraid I 'll fall down


--an' then yeh know--them damned artillery


wagons--they like as not 'll run over me.  That 's


what I 'm 'fraid of--"



The youth cried out to him hysterically: "I 'll


take care of yeh, Jim!  I'll take care of yeh!  I


swear t' Gawd I will!"



"Sure--will yeh, Henry?" the tall soldier


beseeched.



"Yes--yes--I tell yeh--I'll take care of yeh,


Jim!" protested the youth.  He could not speak


accurately because of the gulpings in his throat.



But the tall soldier continued to beg in a


lowly way.  He now hung babelike to the


youth's arm.  His eyes rolled in the wildness of


his terror.  "I was allus a good friend t' yeh,


wa'n't I, Henry?  I 've allus been a pretty good


feller, ain't I?  An' it ain't much t' ask, is it?  Jest


t' pull me along outer th' road?  I 'd do it fer you,


Wouldn't I, Henry?"



He paused in piteous anxiety to await his


friend's reply.



The youth had reached an anguish where the


sobs scorched him.  He strove to express his


loyalty, but he could only make fantastic gestures.



However, the tall soldier seemed suddenly to


forget all those fears.  He became again the


grim, stalking specter of a soldier.  He went


stonily forward.  The youth wished his friend to


lean upon him, but the other always shook his


head and strangely protested.  "No--no--no--


leave me be--leave me be--"



His look was fixed again upon the unknown.


He moved with mysterious purpose, and all of


the youth's offers he brushed aside.  "No--no--


leave me be--leave me be--"



The youth had to follow.



Presently the latter heard a voice talking


softly near his shoulders.  Turning he saw that it


belonged to the tattered soldier.  "Ye 'd better


take 'im outa th' road, pardner.  There 's a batt'ry


comin' helitywhoop down th' road an' he 'll git


runned over.  He 's a goner anyhow in about five


minutes--yeh kin see that.  Ye 'd better take 'im


outa th' road.  Where th' blazes does he git his


stren'th from?"



"Lord knows!" cried the youth.  He was


shaking his hands helplessly.



He ran forward presently and grasped the


tall soldier by the arm.  "Jim!  Jim!" he coaxed,


"come with me."



The tall soldier weakly tried to wrench himself


free.  "Huh," he said vacantly.  He stared at the


youth for a moment.  At last he spoke as if dimly


comprehending.  "Oh!  Inteh th' fields?  Oh!"



He started blindly through the grass.



The youth turned once to look at the lashing


riders and jouncing guns of the battery.  He was


startled from this view by a shrill outcry from


the tattered man.



"Gawd!  He's runnin'!"



Turning his head swiftly, the youth saw his


friend running in a staggering and stumbling


way toward a little clump of bushes.  His heart


seemed to wrench itself almost free from his


body at this sight.  He made a noise of pain.


He and the tattered man began a pursuit.  There


was a singular race.



When he overtook the tall soldier he began


to plead with all the words he could find.  "Jim


--Jim--what are you doing--what makes you do


this way--you 'll hurt yerself."



The same purpose was in the tall soldier's face.


He protested in a dulled way, keeping his eyes


fastened on the mystic place of his intentions.


"No--no--don't tech me--leave me be--leave


me be--"



The youth, aghast and filled with wonder at the


tall soldier, began quaveringly to question him.


"Where yeh goin', Jim?  What you thinking


about?  Where you going?  Tell me, won't you,


Jim?"



The tall soldier faced about as upon relentless


pursuers.  In his eyes there was a great appeal.


"Leave me be, can't yeh?  Leave me be fer a


minnit."



The youth recoiled.  "Why, Jim," he said, in


a dazed way, "what's the matter with you?"



The tall soldier turned and, lurching danger-


ously, went on.  The youth and the tattered


soldier followed, sneaking as if whipped, feeling


unable to face the stricken man if he should again


confront them.  They began to have thoughts of


a solemn ceremony.  There was something rite-


like in these movements of the doomed soldier.


And there was a resemblance in him to a devotee


of a mad religion, blood-sucking, muscle-wrench-


ing, bone-crushing.  They were awed and afraid.


They hung back lest he have at command a


dreadful weapon.



At last, they saw him stop and stand motion-


less.  Hastening up, they perceived that his face


wore an expression telling that he had at last


found the place for which he had struggled.  His


spare figure was erect; his bloody hands were


quietly at his side.  He was waiting with patience


for something that he had come to meet.  He was


at the rendezvous.  They paused and stood, ex-


pectant.



There was a silence.



Finally, the chest of the doomed soldier began


to heave with a strained motion.  It increased in


violence until it was as if an animal was within


and was kicking and tumbling furiously to be


free.



This spectacle of gradual strangulation made


the youth writhe, and once as his friend rolled his


eyes, he saw something in them that made him


sink wailing to the ground.  He raised his voice


in a last supreme call.



"Jim--Jim--Jim--"



The tall soldier opened his lips and spoke.


He made a gesture.  "Leave me be--don't tech


me--leave me be--"



There was another silence while he waited.



Suddenly, his form stiffened and straightened.


Then it was shaken by a prolonged ague.  He


stared into space.  To the two watchers there


was a curious and profound dignity in the firm


lines of his awful face.



He was invaded by a creeping strangeness


that slowly enveloped him.  For a moment the


tremor of his legs caused him to dance a sort of


hideous hornpipe.  His arms beat wildly about


his head in expression of implike enthusiasm.



His tall figure stretched itself to its full height.


There was a slight rending sound.  Then it began


to swing forward, slow and straight, in the man-


ner of a falling tree.  A swift muscular contortion


made the left shoulder strike the ground first.



The body seemed to bounce a little way from


the earth.  "God!" said the tattered soldier.



The youth had watched, spellbound, this


ceremony at the place of meeting.  His face


had been twisted into an expression of every


agony he had imagined for his friend.



He now sprang to his feet and, going closer,


gazed upon the pastelike face.  The mouth was


open and the teeth showed in a laugh.



As the flap of the blue jacket fell away from


the body, he could see that the side looked as if it


had been chewed by wolves.



The youth turned, with sudden, livid rage,


toward the battlefield.  He shook his fist.  He


seemed about to deliver a philippic.



"Hell--"



The red sun was pasted in the sky like a wafer.



 


 


 


CHAPTER X.



 


THE tattered man stood musing.



"Well, he was reg'lar jim-dandy fer nerve,


wa'n't he," said he finally in a little awestruck


voice.  "A reg'lar jim-dandy."  He thoughtfully


poked one of the docile hands with his foot.  "I


wonner where he got 'is stren'th from?  I never


seen a man do like that before.  It was a funny


thing.  Well, he was a reg'lar jim-dandy."



The youth desired to screech out his grief.


He was stabbed, but his tongue lay dead in the


tomb of his mouth.  He threw himself again


upon the ground and began to brood.



The tattered man stood musing.



"Look-a-here, pardner," he said, after a time.


He regarded the corpse as he spoke.  "He 's up


an' gone, ain't 'e, an' we might as well begin t'


look out fer ol' number one.  This here thing is


all over.  He 's up an' gone, ain't 'e?  An' he 's all


right here.  Nobody won't bother 'im.  An' I


must say I ain't enjoying any great health m'self


these days."



100



The youth, awakened by the tattered soldier's


tone, looked quickly up.  He saw that he was


swinging uncertainly on his legs and that his face


had turned to a shade of blue.



"Good Lord!" he cried, "you ain't goin' t'--


not you, too."



The tattered man waved his hand.  "Nary


die," he said.  "All I want is some pea soup an'


a good bed.  Some pea soup," he repeated


dreamfully.



The youth arose from the ground.  "I wonder


where he came from.  I left him over there."


He pointed.  "And now I find 'im here.  And


he was coming from over there, too."  He in-


dicated a new direction.  They both turned


toward the body as if to ask of it a question.



"Well," at length spoke the tattered man,


"there ain't no use in our stayin' here an' tryin' t'


ask him anything."



The youth nodded an assent wearily.  They


both turned to gaze for a moment at the corpse.



The youth murmured something.



"Well, he was a jim-dandy, wa'n't 'e?" said


the tattered man as if in response.



They turned their backs upon it and started


away.  For a time they stole softly, treading


with their toes.  It remained laughing there in


the grass.



"I'm commencin' t' feel pretty bad," said the


tattered man, suddenly breaking one of his little


silences.  "I'm commencin' t' feel pretty damn'


bad."



The youth groaned.  "O Lord!"  He won-


dered if he was to be the tortured witness of


another grim encounter.



But his companion waved his hand reassur-


ingly.  "Oh, I'm not goin' t' die yit!  There too


much dependin' on me fer me t' die yit.  No, sir!


Nary die!  I CAN'T!  Ye'd oughta see th' swad


a' chil'ren I've got, an' all like that."



The youth glancing at his companion could


see by the shadow of a smile that he was making


some kind of fun.



As they plodded on the tattered soldier con-


tinued to talk.  "Besides, if I died, I wouldn't


die th' way that feller did.  That was th' funniest


thing.  I'd jest flop down, I would.  I never seen


a feller die th' way that feller did.



"Yeh know Tom Jamison, he lives next door


t' me up home.  He's a nice feller, he is, an' we


was allus good friends.  Smart, too.  Smart as a


steel trap.  Well, when we was a-fightin' this


atternoon, all-of-a-sudden he begin t' rip up an'


cuss an' beller at me.  'Yer shot, yeh blamed


infernal!'--he swear horrible--he ses t' me.  I


put up m' hand t' m' head an' when I looked at


m' fingers, I seen, sure 'nough, I was shot.  I


give a holler an' begin t' run, but b'fore I could


git away another one hit me in th' arm an' whirl'


me clean 'round.  I got skeared when they was


all a-shootin' b'hind me an' I run t' beat all,


but I cotch it pretty bad.  I've an idee I'd


a' been fightin' yit, if t'was n't fer Tom Jami-


son."



Then he made a calm announcement: "There's


two of 'em--little ones--but they 're beginnin' t'


have fun with me now.  I don't b'lieve I kin walk


much furder."



They went slowly on in silence.  "Yeh look


pretty peek-ed yerself," said the tattered man at


last.  "I bet yeh 've got a worser one than yeh


think.  Ye'd better take keer of yer hurt.  It


don't do t' let sech things go.  It might be inside


mostly, an' them plays thunder.  Where is it


located?"  But he continued his harangue with-


out waiting for a reply.  "I see 'a feller git hit


plum in th' head when my reg'ment was a-standin'


at ease onct.  An' everybody yelled out to 'im:


Hurt, John?  Are yeh hurt much?  'No," ses he.


He looked kinder surprised, an' he went on tellin'


'em how he felt.  He sed he didn't feel nothin'.


But, by dad, th' first thing that feller knowed he


was dead.  Yes, he was dead--stone dead.  So,


yeh wanta watch out.  Yeh might have some


queer kind 'a hurt yerself.  Yeh can't never tell.


Where is your'n located?"



The youth had been wriggling since the intro-


duction of this topic.  He now gave a cry of ex-


asperation and made a furious motion with his


hand.  "Oh, don't bother me!" he said.  He was


enraged against the tattered man, and could have


strangled him.  His companions seemed ever to


play intolerable parts.  They were ever uprais-


ing the ghost of shame on the stick of their


curiosity.  He turned toward the tattered man as


one at bay.  "Now, don't bother me," he re-


peated with desperate menace.



"Well, Lord knows I don't wanta bother any-


body," said the other.  There was a little accent


of despair in his voice as he replied, "Lord


knows I 've gota 'nough m' own t' tend to."



The youth, who had been holding a bitter de-


bate with himself and casting glances of hatred


and contempt at the tattered man, here spoke in


a hard voice.  "Good-by," he said.



The tattered man looked at him in gaping


amazement.  "Why--why, pardner, where yeh


goin'?" he asked unsteadily.  The youth looking


at him, could see that he, too, like that other one,


was beginning to act dumb and animal-like.  His


thoughts seemed to be floundering about in his


head.  "Now--now--look--a--here, you Tom


Jamison--now--I won't have this--this here


won't do.  Where--where yeh goin'?"



The youth pointed vaguely.  "Over there,"


he replied.



"Well, now look--a--here--now," said the


tattered man, rambling on in idiot fashion.  His


head was hanging forward and his words were


slurred.  "This thing won't do, now, Tom Jami-


son.  It won't do.  I know yeh, yeh pig-headed


devil.  Yeh wanta go trompin' off with a bad


hurt.  It ain't right--now--Tom Jamison--it ain't.


Yeh wanta leave me take keer of yeh, Tom Jami-


son.  It ain't--right--it ain't--fer yeh t' go--


trompin' off--with a bad hurt--it ain't--ain't--


ain't right--it ain't."



In reply the youth climbed a fence and


started away.  He could hear the tattered man


bleating plaintively.



Once he faced about angrily.  "What?"



"Look--a--here, now, Tom Jamison--now--


it ain't--"



The youth went on.  Turning at a distance he


saw the tattered man wandering about helplessly


in the field.



He now thought that he wished he was dead.


He believed that he envied those men whose


bodies lay strewn over the grass of the fields and


on the fallen leaves of the forest.



The simple questions of the tattered man had


been knife thrusts to him.  They asserted a


society that probes pitilessly at secrets until all is


apparent.  His late companion's chance persist-


ency made him feel that he could not keep his


crime concealed in his bosom.  It was sure to be


brought plain by one of those arrows which


cloud the air and are constantly pricking, dis-


covering, proclaiming those things which are


willed to be forever hidden.  He admitted that


he could not defend himself against this agency.


It was not within the power of vigilance.



 


 


 


CHAPTER XI.



 


HE became aware that the furnace roar of the


battle was growing louder.  Great brown clouds


had floated to the still heights of air before him.


The noise, too, was approaching.  The woods


filtered men and the fields became dotted.



As he rounded a hillock, he perceived that the


roadway was now a crying mass of wagons,


teams, and men.  From the heaving tangle issued


exhortations, commands, imprecations.  Fear was


sweeping it all along.  The cracking whips bit


and horses plunged and tugged.  The white-


topped wagons strained and stumbled in their


exertions like fat sheep.



The youth felt comforted in a measure by this


sight.  They were all retreating.  Perhaps, then,


he was not so bad after all.  He seated himself


and watched the terror-stricken wagons.  They


fled like soft, ungainly animals.  All the roarers


and lashers served to help him to magnify the


dangers and horrors of the engagement that he



107


might try to prove to himself that the thing with


which men could charge him was in truth a


symmetrical act.  There was an amount of pleas-


ure to him in watching the wild march of this


vindication.



Presently the calm head of a forward-going


column of infantry appeared in the road.  It


came swiftly on.  Avoiding the obstructions gave


it the sinuous movement of a serpent.  The men


at the head butted mules with their musket


stocks.  They prodded teamsters indifferent to


all howls.  The men forced their way through


parts of the dense mass by strength.  The blunt


head of the column pushed.  The raving team-


sters swore many strange oaths.



The commands to make way had the ring of a


great importance in them.  The men were going


forward to the heart of the din.  They were to


confront the eager rush of the enemy.  They felt


the pride of their onward movement when the


remainder of the army seemed trying to dribble


down this road.  They tumbled teams about


with a fine feeling that it was no matter so long


as their column got to the front in time.  This


importance made their faces grave and stern.


And the backs of the officers were very rigid.



As the youth looked at them the black weight


of his woe returned to him.  He felt that he was


regarding a procession of chosen beings.  The


separation was as great to him as if they had


marched with weapons of flame and banners of


sunlight.  He could never be like them.  He


could have wept in his longings.



He searched about in his mind for an ade-


quate malediction for the indefinite cause, the


thing upon which men turn the words of final


blame.  It--whatever it was--was responsible for


him, he said.  There lay the fault.



The haste of the column to reach the battle


seemed to the forlorn young man to be some-


thing much finer than stout fighting.  Heroes, he


thought, could find excuses in that long seething


lane.  They could retire with perfect self-respect


and make excuses to the stars.



He wondered what those men had eaten that


they could be in such haste to force their way to


grim chances of death.  As he watched his envy


grew until he thought that he wished to change


lives with one of them.  He would have liked to


have used a tremendous force, he said, throw off


himself and become a better.  Swift pictures of


himself, apart, yet in himself, came to him--a


blue desperate figure leading lurid charges with


one knee forward and a broken blade high--a


blue, determined figure standing before a crimson


and steel assault, getting calmly killed on a high


place before the eyes of all.  He thought of the


magnificent pathos of his dead body.



These thoughts uplifted him.  He felt the


quiver of war desire.  In his ears, he heard the


ring of victory.  He knew the frenzy of a rapid


successful charge.  The music of the trampling


feet, the sharp voices, the clanking arms of the


column near him made him soar on the red wings


of war.  For a few moments he was sublime.



He thought that he was about to start for the


front.  Indeed, he saw a picture of himself, dust-


stained, haggard, panting, flying to the front at


the proper moment to seize and throttle the dark,


leering witch of calamity.



Then the difficulties of the thing began to


drag at him.  He hesitated, balancing awkwardly


on one foot.



He had no rifle; he could not fight with his


hands, said he resentfully to his plan.  Well,


rifles could be had for the picking.  They were


extraordinarily profuse.



Also, he continued, it would be a miracle if he


found his regiment.  Well, he could fight with


any regiment.



He started forward slowly.  He stepped as if


he expected to tread upon some explosive thing.


Doubts and he were struggling.



He would truly be a worm if any of his com-


rades should see him returning thus, the marks of


his flight upon him.  There was a reply that the


intent fighters did not care for what happened


rearward saving that no hostile bayonets ap-


peared there.  In the battle-blur his face would,


in a way be hidden, like the face of a cowled


man.



But then he said that his tireless fate would


bring forth, when the strife lulled for a moment,


a man to ask of him an explanation.  In imagina-


tion he felt the scrutiny of his companions as he


painfully labored through some lies.



Eventually, his courage expended itself upon


these objections.  The debates drained him of his


fire.



He was not cast down by this defeat of his


plan, for, upon studying the affair carefully, he


could not but admit that the objections were very


formidable.



Furthermore, various ailments had begun to


cry out.  In their presence he could not persist


in flying high with the wings of war; they


rendered it almost impossible for him to see him-


self in a heroic light.  He tumbled headlong.



He discovered that he had a scorching thirst.


His face was so dry and grimy that he thought


he could feel his skin crackle.  Each bone of his


body had an ache in it, and seemingly threatened


to break with each movement.  His feet were


like two sores.  Also, his body was calling for


food.  It was more powerful than a direct hunger.


There was a dull, weight like feeling in his stom-


ach, and, when he tried to walk, his head swayed


and he tottered.  He could not see with distinct-


ness.  Small patches of green mist floated before


his vision.



While he had been tossed by many emotions,


he had not been aware of ailments.  Now they


beset him and made clamor.  As he was at last


compelled to pay attention to them, his capacity


for self-hate was multiplied.  In despair, he


declared that he was not like those others.  He


now conceded it to be impossible that he should


ever become a hero.  He was a craven loon.


Those pictures of glory were piteous things.  He


groaned from his heart and went staggering off.



A certain mothlike quality within him kept


him in the vicinity of the battle.  He had a great


desire to see, and to get news.  He wished to


know who was winning.



He told himself that, despite his unprecedented


suffering, he had never lost his greed for a victory,


yet, he said, in a half-apologetic manner to his


conscience, he could not but know that a defeat


for the army this time might mean many favor-


able things for him.  The blows of the enemy


would splinter regiments into fragments.  Thus,


many men of courage, he considered, would be


obliged to desert the colors and scurry like


chickens.  He would appear as one of them.


They would be sullen brothers in distress, and he


could then easily believe he had not run any


farther or faster than they.  And if he himself


could believe in his virtuous perfection, he con-


ceived that there would be small trouble in con-


vincing all others.



He said, as if in excuse for this hope, that


previously the army had encountered great


defeats and in a few months had shaken off all


blood and tradition of them, emerging as bright


and valiant as a new one; thrusting out of sight


the memory of disaster, and appearing with the


valor and confidence of unconquered legions.


The shrilling voices of the people at home would


pipe dismally for a time, but various generals


were usually compelled to listen to these ditties.


He of course felt no compunctions for proposing


a general as a sacrifice.  He could not tell who


the chosen for the barbs might be, so he could


center no direct sympathy upon him.  The


people were afar and he did not conceive public


opinion to be accurate at long range.  It was


quite probable they would hit the wrong man


who, after he had recovered from his amazement


would perhaps spend the rest of his days in writ-


ing replies to the songs of his alleged failure.  It


would be very unfortunate, no doubt, but in this


case a general was of no consequence to the


youth.



In a defeat there would be a roundabout


vindication of himself.  He thought it would


prove, in a manner, that he had fled early because


of his superior powers of perception.  A serious


prophet upon predicting a flood should be the


first man to climb a tree.  This would demon-


strate that he was indeed a seer.



A moral vindication was regarded by the


youth as a very important thing.  Without salve,


he could not, he thought, wear the sore badge of


his dishonor through life.  With his heart con-


tinually assuring him that he was despicable, he


could not exist without making it, through his


actions, apparent to all men.



If the army had gone gloriously on he would


be lost.  If the din meant that now his army's


flags were tilted forward he was a condemned


wretch.  He would be compelled to doom


himself to isolation.  If the men were advancing,


their indifferent feet were trampling upon his


chances for a successful life.



As these thoughts went rapidly through his


mind, he turned upon them and tried to thrust


them away.  He denounced himself as a villain.


He said that he was the most unutterably selfish


man in existence.  His mind pictured the soldiers


who would place their defiant bodies before the


spear of the yelling battle fiend, and as he saw


their dripping corpses on an imagined field, he


said that he was their murderer.



Again he thought that he wished he was dead.


He believed that he envied a corpse.  Thinking


of the slain, he achieved a great contempt for


some of them, as if they were guilty for thus


becoming lifeless.  They might have been killed


by lucky chances, he said, before they had had


opportunities to flee or before they had been


really tested.  Yet they would receive laurels


from tradition.  He cried out bitterly that their


crowns were stolen and their robes of glori-


ous memories were shams.  However, he still


said that it was a great pity he was not as


they.



A defeat of the army had suggested itself to


him as a means of escape from the consequences


of his fall.  He considered, now, however, that it


was useless to think of such a possibility.  His


education had been that success for that mighty


blue machine was certain; that it would make


victories as a contrivance turns out buttons.  He


presently discarded all his speculations in the


other direction.  He returned to the creed of


soldiers.



When he perceived again that it was not


possible for the army to be defeated, he tried


to bethink him of a fine tale which he could take


back to his regiment, and with it turn the expected


shafts of derision.



But, as he mortally feared these shafts, it


became impossible for him to invent a tale he felt


he could trust.  He experimented with many


schemes, but threw them aside one by one as


flimsy.  He was quick to see vulnerable places in


them all.



Furthermore, he was much afraid that some


arrow of scorn might lay him mentally low before


he could raise his protecting tale.



He imagined the whole regiment saying:


"Where's Henry Fleming?  He run, didn't 'e?


Oh, my!"  He recalled various persons who


would be quite sure to leave him no peace


about it.  They would doubtless question him


with sneers, and laugh at his stammering hesi-


tation.  In the next engagement they would


try to keep watch of him to discover when he


would run.



Wherever he went in camp, he would en-


counter insolent and lingeringly cruel stares.  As


he imagined himself passing near a crowd of


comrades, he could hear some one say, "There


he goes!"



Then, as if the heads were moved by one


muscle, all the faces were turned toward him


with wide, derisive grins.  He seemed to hear


some one make a humorous remark in a low tone.


At it the others all crowed and cackled.  He was


a slang phrase.



 


 


 


CHAPTER XII.



 


THE column that had butted stoutly at the


obstacles in the roadway was barely out of the


youth's sight before he saw dark waves of men


come sweeping out of the woods and down


through the fields.  He knew at once that the


steel fibers had been washed from their hearts.


They were bursting from their coats and


their equipments as from entanglements.  They


charged down upon him like terrified buffaloes.



Behind them blue smoke curled and clouded


above the treetops, and through the thickets he


could sometimes see a distant pink glare.  The


voices of the cannon were clamoring in intermi-


nable chorus.



The youth was horrorstricken.  He stared


in agony and amazement.  He forgot that he


was engaged in combating the universe.  He


threw aside his mental pamphlets on the philoso-


phy of the retreated and rules for the guidance


of the damned.



118



The fight was lost.  The dragons were com-


ing with invincible strides.  The army, helpless


in the matted thickets and blinded by the over-


hanging night, was going to be swallowed.  War,


the red animal, war, the blood-swollen god, would


have bloated fill.



Within him something bade to cry out.  He


had the impulse to make a rallying speech, to sing


a battle hymn, but he could only get his tongue to


call into the air: "Why--why--what--what 's


th' matter?"



Soon he was in the midst of them.  They


were leaping and scampering all about him.


Their blanched faces shone in the dusk.  They


seemed, for the most part, to be very burly men.


The youth turned from one to another of them as


they galloped along.  His incoherent questions


were lost.  They were heedless of his appeals.


They did not seem to see him.



They sometimes gabbled insanely.  One huge


man was asking of the sky: "Say, where de


plank road?  Where de plank road!"  It was as if


he had lost a child.  He wept in his pain and


dismay.



Presently, men were running hither and


thither in all ways.  The artillery booming,


forward, rearward, and on the flanks made


jumble of ideas of direction.  Landmarks had


vanished into the gathered gloom.  The youth


began to imagine that he had got into the


center of the tremendous quarrel, and he could


perceive no way out of it.  From the mouths of


the fleeing men came a thousand wild questions,


but no one made answers.



The youth, after rushing about and throwing


interrogations at the heedless bands of retreating


infantry, finally clutched a man by the arm.  They


swung around face to face.



"Why--why--" stammered the youth strug-


gling with his balking tongue.



The man screamed: "Let go me!  Let go


me!"  His face was livid and his eyes were roll-


ing uncontrolled.  He was heaving and panting.


He still grasped his rifle, perhaps having for-


gotten to release his hold upon it.  He tugged


frantically, and the youth being compelled to lean


forward was dragged several paces.



"Let go me!  Let go me!"



"Why--why--" stuttered the youth.



"Well, then!" bawled the man in a lurid


rage.  He adroitly and fiercely swung his rifle.


It crushed upon the youth's head.  The man


ran on.



The youth's fingers had turned to paste upon


the other's arm.  The energy was smitten from


his muscles.  He saw the flaming wings of light-


ning flash before his vision.  There was a deaf-


ening rumble of thunder within his head.



Suddenly his legs seemed to die.  He sank


writhing to the ground.  He tried to arise.  In


his efforts against the numbing pain he was like a


man wrestling with a creature of the air.



There was a sinister struggle.



Sometimes he would achieve a position half


erect, battle with the air for a moment, and


then fall again, grabbing at the grass.  His face


was of a clammy pallor.  Deep groans were


wrenched from him.



At last, with a twisting movement, he got


upon his hands and knees, and from thence, like a


babe trying to walk, to his feet.  Pressing his


hands to his temples he went lurching over the


grass.



He fought an intense battle with his body.


His dulled senses wished him to swoon and he


opposed them stubbornly, his mind portraying


unknown dangers and mutilations if he should


fall upon the field.  He went tall soldier fashion.


He imagined secluded spots where he could fall


and be unmolested.  To search for one he strove


against the tide of his pain.



Once he put his hand to the top of his head


and timidly touched the wound.  The scratching


pain of the contact made him draw a long breath


through his clinched teeth.  His fingers were


dabbled with blood.  He regarded them with a


fixed stare.



Around him he could hear the grumble of


jolted cannon as the scurrying horses were lashed


toward the front.  Once, a young officer on a


besplashed charger nearly ran him down.  He


turned and watched the mass of guns, men, and


horses sweeping in a wide curve toward a gap in


a fence.  The officer was making excited motions


with a gauntleted hand.  The guns followed the


teams with an air of unwillingness, of being


dragged by the heels.



Some officers of the scattered infantry were


cursing and railing like fishwives.  Their scold-


ing voices could be heard above the din.  Into


the unspeakable jumble in the roadway rode a


squadron of cavalry.  The faded yellow of their


facings shone bravely.  There was a mighty


altercation.



The artillery were assembling as if for a con-


ference.



The blue haze of evening was upon the field.


The lines of forest were long purple shadows.


One cloud lay along the western sky partly


smothering the red.



As the youth left the scene behind him, he


heard the guns suddenly roar out.  He imagined


them shaking in black rage.  They belched and


howled like brass devils guarding a gate.  The


soft air was filled with the tremendous remon-


strance.  With it came the shattering peal of


opposing infantry.  Turning to look behind him,


he could see sheets of orange light illumine the


shadowy distance.  There were subtle and sudden


lightnings in the far air.  At times he thought he


could see heaving masses of men.



He hurried on in the dusk.  The day had


faded until he could barely distinguish place for


his feet.  The purple darkness was filled with


men who lectured and jabbered.  Sometimes he


could see them gesticulating against the blue and


somber sky.  There seemed to be a great ruck of


men and munitions spread about in the forest and


in the fields.



The little narrow roadway now lay lifeless.


There were overturned wagons like sun-dried


bowlders.  The bed of the former torrent was


choked with the bodies of horses and splintered


parts of war machines.



It had come to pass that his wound pained him


but little.  He was afraid to move rapidly, how-


ever, for a dread of disturbing it.  He held his


head very still and took many precautions against


stumbling.  He was filled with anxiety, and his


face was pinched and drawn in anticipation of the


pain of any sudden mistake of his feet in the


gloom.



His thoughts, as he walked, fixed intently


upon his hurt.  There was a cool, liquid feeling


about it and he imagined blood moving slowly


down under his hair.  His head seemed swollen


to a size that made him think his neck to be


inadequate.



The new silence of his wound made much


worriment.  The little blistering voices of pain


that had called out from his scalp were, he


thought, definite in their expression of danger.


By them he believed that he could measure his


plight.  But when they remained ominously


silent he became frightened and imagined ter-


rible fingers that clutched into his brain.



Amid it he began to reflect upon various


incidents and conditions of the past.  He be-


thought him of certain meals his mother had


cooked at home, in which those dishes of which


he was particularly fond had occupied prominent


positions.  He saw the spread table.  The pine


walls of the kitchen were glowing in the warm


light from the stove.  Too, he remembered how


he and his companions used to go from the school-


house to the bank of a shaded pool.  He saw his


clothes in disorderly array upon the grass of the


bank.  He felt the swash of the fragrant water


upon his body.  The leaves of the overhanging


maple rustled with melody in the wind of youth-


ful summer.



He was overcome presently by a dragging


weariness.  His head hung forward and his


shoulders were stooped as if he were bearing a


great bundle.  His feet shuffled along the


ground.



He held continuous arguments as to whether


he should lie down and sleep at some near spot,


or force himself on until he reached a certain


haven.  He often tried to dismiss the question,


but his body persisted in rebellion and his senses


nagged at him like pampered babies.



At last he heard a cheery voice near his


shoulder: "Yeh seem t' be in a pretty bad way,


boy?"



The youth did not look up, but he assented


with thick tongue.  "Uh!"



The owner of the cheery voice took him firmly


by the arm.  "Well," he said, with a round


laugh, "I'm goin' your way.  Th' hull gang is


goin' your way.  An' I guess I kin give yeh a


lift."  They began to walk like a drunken man


and his friend.



As they went along, the man questioned the


youth and assisted him with the replies like one


manipulating the mind of a child.  Sometimes he


interjected anecdotes.  "What reg'ment do yeh


b'long teh?  Eh?  What's that?  Th' 304th N'


York?  Why, what corps is that in?  Oh, it is?


Why, I thought they wasn't engaged t'-day--


they 're 'way over in th' center.  Oh, they was,


eh?  Well, pretty nearly everybody got their


share 'a fightin' t'-day.  By dad, I give myself up


fer dead any number 'a times.  There was shootin'


here an' shootin' there, an' hollerin' here an'


hollerin' there, in th' damn' darkness, until I


couldn't tell t' save m' soul which side I was on.


Sometimes I thought I was sure 'nough from


Ohier, an' other times I could 'a swore I was


from th' bitter end of Florida.  It was th' most


mixed up dern thing I ever see.  An' these here


hull woods is a reg'lar mess.  It'll be a miracle


if we find our reg'ments t'-night.  Pretty soon,


though, we 'll meet a-plenty of guards an' provost-


guards, an' one thing an' another.  Ho! there they


go with an off'cer, I guess.  Look at his hand


a-draggin'.  He 's got all th' war he wants, I bet.


He won't be talkin' so big about his reputation


an' all when they go t' sawin' off his leg.  Poor


feller!  My brother 's got whiskers jest like that.


How did yeh git 'way over here, anyhow?  Your


reg'ment is a long way from here, ain't it?  Well,


I guess we can find it.  Yeh know there was a


boy killed in my comp'ny t'-day that I thought


th' world an' all of.  Jack was a nice feller.  By


ginger, it hurt like thunder t' see ol' Jack jest git


knocked flat.  We was a-standin' purty peaceable


fer a spell, 'though there was men runnin' ev'ry


way all 'round us, an' while we was a-standin'


like that, 'long come a big fat feller.  He began


t' peck at Jack's elbow, an' he ses: 'Say, where 's


th' road t' th' river?'  An' Jack, he never paid no


attention, an' th' feller kept on a-peckin' at his


elbow an' sayin': 'Say, where 's th' road t' th'


river?'  Jack was a-lookin' ahead all th' time


tryin' t' see th' Johnnies comin' through th'


woods, an' he never paid no attention t' this big


fat feller fer a long time, but at last he turned


'round an' he ses: 'Ah, go t' hell an' find th'


road t' th' river!'  An' jest then a shot slapped


him bang on th' side th' head.  He was a sergeant,


too.  Them was his last words.  Thunder, I wish


we was sure 'a findin' our reg'ments t'-night.  It 's


goin' t' be long huntin'.  But I guess we kin


do it."



In the search which followed, the man of the


cheery voice seemed to the youth to possess a


wand of a magic kind.  He threaded the mazes


of the tangled forest with a strange fortune.  In


encounters with guards and patrols he displayed


the keenness of a detective and the valor of a


gamin.  Obstacles fell before him and became of


assistance.  The youth, with his chin still on his


breast, stood woodenly by while his companion


beat ways and means out of sullen things.



The forest seemed a vast hive of men buzzing


about in frantic circles, but the cheery man con-


ducted the youth without mistakes, until at last


he began to chuckle with glee and self-satisfaction.


"Ah, there yeh are!  See that fire?"



The youth nodded stupidly.



"Well, there 's where your reg'ment is.  An'


now, good-by, ol' boy, good luck t' yeh."



A warm and strong hand clasped the youth's


languid fingers for an instant, and then he heard


a cheerful and audacious whistling as the man


strode away.  As he who had so befriended him


was thus passing out of his life, it suddenly oc-


curred to the youth that he had not once seen his


face.



 


 


 


CHAPTER XIII.



 


THE youth went slowly toward the fire in-


dicated by his departed friend.  As he reeled, he


bethought him of the welcome his comrades


would give him.  He had a conviction that he


would soon feel in his sore heart the barbed


missiles of ridicule.  He had no strength to in-


vent a tale; he would be a soft target.



He made vague plans to go off into the deeper


darkness and hide, but they were all destroyed


by the voices of exhaustion and pain from his


body.  His ailments, clamoring, forced him to


seek the place of food and rest, at whatever cost.



He swung unsteadily toward the fire.  He


could see the forms of men throwing black


shadows in the red light, and as he went nearer


it became known to him in some way that the


ground was strewn with sleeping men.



Of a sudden he confronted a black and


monstrous figure.  A rifle barrel caught some


glinting beams.  "Halt! halt!"  He was dis-



129


mayed for a moment, but he presently thought


that he recognized the nervous voice.  As he


stood tottering before the rifle barrel, he called


out: "Why, hello, Wilson, you--you here?"



The rifle was lowered to a position of caution


and the loud soldier came slowly forward.  He


peered into the youth's face.  "That you,


Henry?"



"Yes, it's--it's me."



"Well, well, ol' boy," said the other, "by


ginger, I'm glad t' see yeh!  I give yeh up


fer a goner.  I thought yeh was dead sure


enough."  There was husky emotion in his


voice.



The youth found that now he could barely


stand upon his feet.  There was a sudden sinking


of his forces.  He thought he must hasten to pro-


duce his tale to protect him from the missiles


already at the lips of his redoubtable comrades.


So, staggering before the loud soldier, he began:


"Yes, yes.  I've--I've had an awful time.  I've


been all over.  Way over on th' right.  Ter'ble


fightin' over there.  I had an awful time.  I got


separated from th' reg'ment.  Over on th' right,


I got shot.  In th' head.  I never see sech


fightin'.  Awful time.  I don't see how I could 'a


got separated from th' reg'ment.  I got shot,


too."


His friend had stepped forward quickly.


"What?  Got shot?  Why didn't yeh say so


first?  Poor ol' boy, we must--hol' on a minnit;


what am I doin'.  I'll call Simpson."



Another figure at that moment loomed in the


gloom.  They could see that it was the corporal.


"Who yeh talkin' to, Wilson?" he demanded.


His voice was anger-toned.  "Who yeh talkin'


to?  Yeh th' derndest sentinel--why--hello,


Henry, you here?  Why, I thought you was


dead four hours ago!  Great Jerusalem, they


keep turnin' up every ten minutes or so!  We


thought we'd lost forty-two men by straight


count, but if they keep on a-comin' this way, we'll


git th' comp'ny all back by mornin' yit.  Where


was yeh?"



"Over on th' right.  I got separated"--began


the youth with considerable glibness.



But his friend had interrupted hastily.  "Yes,


an' he got shot in th' head an' he's in a fix, an' we


must see t' him right away."  He rested his rifle


in the hollow of his left arm and his right around


the youth's shoulder.



"Gee, it must hurt like thunder!" he said.



The youth leaned heavily upon his friend.


"Yes, it hurts--hurts a good deal," he replied.


There was a faltering in his voice.



"Oh," said the corporal.  He linked his arm


in the youth's and drew him forward.  "Come


on, Henry.  I'll take keer 'a yeh."



As they went on together the loud private


called out after them: "Put 'im t' sleep in my


blanket, Simpson.  An'--hol' on a minnit--here's


my canteen.  It's full 'a coffee.  Look at his head


by th' fire an' see how it looks.  Maybe it's a


pretty bad un.  When I git relieved in a couple


'a minnits, I'll be over an' see t' him."



The youth's senses were so deadened that his


friend's voice sounded from afar and he could


scarcely feel the pressure of the corporal's arm.


He submitted passively to the latter's directing


strength.  His head was in the old manner hang-


ing forward upon his breast.  His knees wobbled.



The corporal led him into the glare of the


fire.  "Now, Henry," he said, "let's have look at


yer ol' head."



The youth sat down obediently and the cor-


poral, laying aside his rifle, began to fumble in the


bushy hair of his comrade.  He was obliged to


turn the other's head so that the full flush of the


fire light would beam upon it.  He puckered his


mouth with a critical air.  He drew back his lips


and whistled through his teeth when his fingers


came in contact with the splashed blood and the


rare wound.



"Ah, here we are!" he said.  He awkwardly


made further investigations.  "Jest as I thought,"


he added, presently.  "Yeh've been grazed by a


ball.  It's raised a queer lump jest as if some


feller had lammed yeh on th' head with a club.


It stopped a-bleedin' long time ago.  Th' most


about it is that in th' mornin' yeh'll feel that a


number ten hat wouldn't fit yeh.  An' your


head'll be all het up an' feel as dry as burnt pork.


An' yeh may git a lot 'a other sicknesses, too, by


mornin'.  Yeh can't never tell.  Still, I don't


much think so.  It's jest a damn' good belt on th'


head, an' nothin' more.  Now, you jest sit here


an' don't move, while I go rout out th' relief.


Then I'll send Wilson t' take keer 'a yeh."



The corporal went away.  The youth re-


mained on the ground like a parcel.  He stared


with a vacant look into the fire.



After a time he aroused, for some part, and


the things about him began to take form.  He


saw that the ground in the deep shadows was


cluttered with men, sprawling in every con-


ceivable posture.  Glancing narrowly into the


more distant darkness, he caught occasional


glimpses of visages that loomed pallid and


ghostly, lit with a phosphorescent glow.  These


faces expressed in their lines the deep stupor of


the tired soldiers.  They made them appear like


men drunk with wine.  This bit of forest might


have appeared to an ethereal wanderer as a scene


of the result of some frightful debauch.



On the other side of the fire the youth


observed an officer asleep, seated bolt upright,


with his back against a tree.  There was some-


thing perilous in his position.  Badgered by


dreams, perhaps, he swayed with little bounces


and starts, like an old toddy-stricken grandfather


in a chimney corner.  Dust and stains were upon


his face.  His lower jaw hung down as if lacking


strength to assume its normal position.  He was


the picture of an exhausted soldier after a feast of


war.



He had evidently gone to sleep with his


sword in his arms.  These two had slumbered in


an embrace, but the weapon had been allowed


in time to fall unheeded to the ground.  The


brass-mounted hilt lay in contact with some parts


of the fire.



Within the gleam of rose and orange light


from the burning sticks were other soldiers,


snoring and heaving, or lying deathlike in


slumber.  A few pairs of legs were stuck forth,


rigid and straight.  The shoes displayed the mud


or dust of marches and bits of rounded trousers,


protruding from the blankets, showed rents and


tears from hurried pitchings through the dense


brambles.



The fire crackled musically.  From it swelled


light smoke.  Overhead the foliage moved


softly.  The leaves, with their faces turned


toward the blaze, were colored shifting hues of


silver, often edged with red.  Far off to the right,


through a window in the forest could be seen a


handful of stars lying, like glittering pebbles, on


the black level of the night.



Occasionally, in this low-arched hall, a soldier


would arouse and turn his body to a new posi-


tion, the experience of his sleep having taught


him of uneven and objectionable places upon the


ground under him.  Or, perhaps, he would lift


himself to a sitting posture, blink at the fire for


an unintelligent moment, throw a swift glance at


his prostrate companion, and then cuddle down


again with a grunt of sleepy content.



The youth sat in a forlorn heap until his


friend the loud young soldier came, swinging two


canteens by their light strings.  "Well, now,


Henry, ol' boy," said the latter, "we'll have yeh


fixed up in jest about a minnit."



He had the bustling ways of an amateur


nurse.  He fussed around the fire and stirred the


sticks to brilliant exertions.  He made his patient


drink largely from the canteen that contained the


coffee.  It was to the youth a delicious draught.


He tilted his head afar back and held the canteen


long to his lips.  The cool mixture went caress-


ingly down his blistered throat.  Having finished,


he sighed with comfortable delight.



The loud young soldier watched his comrade


with an air of satisfaction.  He later produced


an extensive handkerchief from his pocket.  He


folded it into a manner of bandage and soused


water from the other canteen upon the middle of


it.  This crude arrangement he bound over the


youth's head, tying the ends in a queer knot at


the back of the neck.



"There," he said, moving off and surveying


his deed, "yeh look like th' devil, but I bet yeh


feel better."



The youth contemplated his friend with grate-


ful eyes.  Upon his aching and swelling head the


cold cloth was like a tender woman's hand.



"Yeh don't holler ner say nothin'," remarked


his friend approvingly.  "I know I'm a black-


smith at takin' keer 'a sick folks, an' yeh never


squeaked.  Yer a good un, Henry.  Most 'a men


would a' been in th' hospital long ago.  A shot in


th' head ain't foolin' business."



The youth made no reply, but began to fumble


with the buttons of his jacket.



"Well, come, now," continued his friend,


"come on.  I must put yeh t' bed an' see that yeh


git a good night's rest."



The other got carefully erect, and the loud


young soldier led him among the sleeping forms


lying in groups and rows.  Presently he stooped


and picked up his blankets.  He spread the rubber


one upon the ground and placed the woolen one


about the youth's shoulders.



"There now," he said, "lie down an' git some


sleep."



The youth, with his manner of doglike obe-


dience, got carefully down like a crone stoop-


ing.  He stretched out with a murmur of relief


and comfort.  The ground felt like the softest


couch.



But of a sudden he ejaculated: "Hol' on a


minnit!  Where you goin' t' sleep?"



His friend waved his hand impatiently.


"Right down there by yeh."



"Well, but hol' on a minnit," continued the


youth.  "What yeh goin' t' sleep in?  I've got


your--"



The loud young soldier snarled: "Shet up


an' go on t' sleep.  Don't be makin' a damn' fool


'a yerself," he said severely.



After the reproof the youth said no more.


An exquisite drowsiness had spread through him.


The warm comfort of the blanket enveloped him


and made a gentle languor.  His head fell for-


ward on his crooked arm and his weighted lids


went softly down over his eyes.  Hearing a


splatter of musketry from the distance, he


wondered indifferently if those men sometimes


slept.  He gave a long sigh, snuggled down into


his blanket, and in a moment was like his com-


rades.



 


 


 


CHAPTER XIV.



 


WHEN the youth awoke it seemed to him that


he had been asleep for a thousand years, and he


felt sure that he opened his eyes upon an unex-


pected world.  Gray mists were slowly shifting


before the first efforts of the sun rays.  An im-


pending splendor could be seen in the eastern


sky.  An icy dew had chilled his face, and im-


mediately upon arousing he curled farther down


into his blanket.  He stared for a while at the


leaves overhead, moving in a heraldic wind of


the day.



The distance was splintering and blaring with


the noise of fighting.  There was in the sound


an expression of a deadly persistency, as if it had


not begun and was not to cease.



About him were the rows and groups of men


that he had dimly seen the previous night.  They


were getting a last draught of sleep before the


awakening.  The gaunt, careworn features and


dusty figures were made plain by this quaint



139


light at the dawning, but it dressed the skin of


the men in corpselike hues and made the tangled


limbs appear pulseless and dead.  The youth


started up with a little cry when his eyes first


swept over this motionless mass of men, thick-


spread upon the ground, pallid, and in strange


postures.  His disordered mind interpreted the


hall of the forest as a charnel place.  He believed


for an instant that he was in the house of the


dead, and he did not dare to move lest these


corpses start up, squalling and squawking.  In a


second, however, he achieved his proper mind.


He swore a complicated oath at himself.  He


saw that this somber picture was not a fact of


the present, but a mere prophecy.



He heard then the noise of a fire crackling


briskly in the cold air, and, turning his head, he


saw his friend pottering busily about a small


blaze.  A few other figures moved in the fog, and


he heard the hard cracking of axe blows.



Suddenly there was a hollow rumble of


drums.  A distant bugle sang faintly.  Similar


sounds, varying in strength, came from near and


far over the forest.  The bugles called to each


other like brazen gamecocks.  The near thunder


of the regimental drums rolled.



The body of men in the woods rustled.  There


was a general uplifting of heads.  A murmuring


of voices broke upon the air.  In it there was


much bass of grumbling oaths.  Strange gods


were addressed in condemnation of the early


hours necessary to correct war.  An officer's


peremptory tenor rang out and quickened the


stiffened movement of the men.  The tangled


limbs unraveled.  The corpse-hued faces were


hidden behind fists that twisted slowly in the eye


sockets.



The youth sat up and gave vent to an enormous


yawn.  "Thunder!" he remarked petulantly.


He rubbed his eyes, and then putting up his hand


felt carefully of the bandage over his wound.


His friend, perceiving him to be awake, came


from the fire.  "Well, Henry, ol' man, how do


yeh feel this mornin'?" he demanded.



The youth yawned again.  Then he puckered


his mouth to a little pucker.  His head, in truth,


felt precisely like a melon, and there was an un-


pleasant sensation at his stomach.



"Oh, Lord, I feel pretty bad," he said.



"Thunder!" exclaimed the other.  "I hoped


ye'd feel all right this mornin'.  Let's see th'


bandage--I guess it's slipped."  He began to


tinker at the wound in rather a clumsy way until


the youth exploded.



"Gosh-dern it!" he said in sharp irritation;


"you're the hangdest man I ever saw!  You


wear muffs on your hands.  Why in good


thunderation can't you be more easy?  I'd rather


you'd stand off an' throw guns at it.  Now, go


slow, an' don't act as if you was nailing down


carpet."



He glared with insolent command at his


friend, but the latter answered soothingly.


"Well, well, come now, an' git some grub," he


said.  "Then, maybe, yeh'll feel better."



At the fireside the loud young soldier


watched over his comrade's wants with tender-


ness and care.  He was very busy marshaling


the little black vagabonds of tin cups and pour-


ing into them the streaming, iron colored mixture


from a small and sooty tin pail.  He had some


fresh meat, which he roasted hurriedly upon a


stick.  He sat down then and contemplated the


youth's appetite with glee.



The youth took note of a remarkable change


in his comrade since those days of camp life upon


the river bank.  He seemed no more to be con-


tinually regarding the proportions of his personal


prowess.  He was not furious at small words that


pricked his conceits.  He was no more a loud


young soldier.  There was about him now a


fine reliance.  He showed a quiet belief in


his purposes and his abilities.  And this in-


ward confidence evidently enabled him to be


indifferent to little words of other men aimed


at him.



The youth reflected.  He had been used to


regarding his comrade as a blatant child with an


audacity grown from his inexperience, thought-


less, headstrong, jealous, and filled with a tinsel


courage.  A swaggering babe accustomed to strut


in his own dooryard.  The youth wondered


where had been born these new eyes; when his


comrade had made the great discovery that


there were many men who would refuse to be


subjected by him.  Apparently, the other had


now climbed a peak of wisdom from which he


could perceive himself as a very wee thing.  And


the youth saw that ever after it would be easier


to live in his friend's neighborhood.



His comrade balanced his ebony coffee-cup on


his knee.  "Well, Henry," he said, "what d'yeh


think th' chances are?  D'yeh think we'll wal-


lop 'em?"



The youth considered for a moment.  "Day-


b'fore-yesterday," he finally replied, with boldness,


"you would 'a' bet you'd lick the hull kit-an'-


boodle all by yourself."



His friend looked a trifle amazed.  "Would


I?" he asked.  He pondered.  "Well, perhaps I


would," he decided at last.  He stared humbly at


the fire.



The youth was quite disconcerted at this sur-


prising reception of his remarks.  "Oh, no, you


wouldn't either," he said, hastily trying to re-


trace.



But the other made a deprecating gesture.


"Oh, yeh needn't mind, Henry," he said.  "I be-


lieve I was a pretty big fool in those days."  He


spoke as after a lapse of years.



There was a little pause.



"All th' officers say we've got th' rebs in


a pretty tight box," said the friend, clearing


his throat in a commonplace way.  "They all


seem t' think we've got 'em jest where we


want 'em."



"I don't know about that," the youth replied.


"What I seen over on th' right makes me think


it was th' other way about.  From where I was,


it looked as if we was gettin' a good poundin'


yestirday."



"D'yeh think so?" inquired the friend.  "I


thought we handled 'em pretty rough yestir-


day."



"Not a bit," said the youth.  "Why, lord,


man, you didn't see nothing of the fight.  Why!"


Then a sudden thought came to him.  "Oh!


Jim Conklin's dead."



His friend started.  "What?  Is he?  Jim


Conklin?"



The youth spoke slowly.  "Yes.  He's dead.


Shot in th' side."



"Yeh don't say so.  Jim Conklin. . . . poor


cuss!"



All about them were other small fires sur-


rounded by men with their little black utensils.


From one of these near came sudden sharp


voices in a row.  It appeared that two light-


footed soldiers had been teasing a huge, bearded


man, causing him to spill coffee upon his blue


knees.  The man had gone into a rage and had


sworn comprehensively.  Stung by his language,


his tormentors had immediately bristled at him


with a great show of resenting unjust oaths.


Possibly there was going to be a fight.



The friend arose and went over to them, mak-


ing pacific motions with his arms.  "Oh, here,


now, boys, what's th' use?" he said.  "We'll


be at th' rebs in less'n an hour.  What's th'


good fightin' 'mong ourselves?"



One of the light-footed soldiers turned upon


him red-faced and violent.  "Yeh needn't come


around here with yer preachin'.  I s'pose yeh


don't approve 'a fightin' since Charley Morgan


licked yeh; but I don't see what business this


here is 'a yours or anybody else."



"Well, it ain't," said the friend mildly.  "Still


I hate t' see--"



There was a tangled argument.



"Well, he--," said the two, indicating their


opponent with accusative forefingers.



The huge soldier was quite purple with rage.


He pointed at the two soldiers with his great


hand, extended clawlike.  "Well, they--"



But during this argumentative time the de-


sire to deal blows seemed to pass, although they


said much to each other.  Finally the friend re-


turned to his old seat.  In a short while the


three antagonists could be seen together in an


amiable bunch.



"Jimmie Rogers ses I'll have t' fight him


after th' battle t'-day," announced the friend as


he again seated himself.  "He ses he don't


allow no interferin' in his business.  I hate t' see


th' boys fightin' 'mong themselves."



The youth laughed.  "Yer changed a good


bit.  Yeh ain't at all like yeh was.  I remember


when you an' that Irish feller--"  He stopped


and laughed again.



"No, I didn't use t' be that way," said his


friend thoughtfully.  "That's true 'nough."



"Well, I didn't mean--" began the youth.



The friend made another deprecatory gesture.


"Oh, yeh needn't mind, Henry."



There was another little pause.



"Th' reg'ment lost over half th' men yestir-


day," remarked the friend eventually.  "I thought


a course they was all dead, but, laws, they kep'


a-comin' back last night until it seems, after all,


we didn't lose but a few.  They'd been scattered


all over, wanderin' around in th' woods, fightin'


with other reg'ments, an' everything.  Jest like


you done."



"So?" said the youth.



 


 


 


CHAPTER XV.



 


THE regiment was standing at order arms at


the side of a lane, waiting for the command to


march, when suddenly the youth remembered


the little packet enwrapped in a faded yellow


envelope which the loud young soldier with lugu-


brious words had intrusted to him.  It made him


start.  He uttered an exclamation and turned


toward his comrade.



"Wilson!"



"What?"



His friend, at his side in the ranks, was thought-


fully staring down the road.  From some cause


his expression was at that moment very meek.


The youth, regarding him with sidelong glances,


felt impelled to change his purpose.  "Oh, noth-


ing," he said.



His friend turned his head in some surprise,


"Why, what was yeh goin' t' say?"



"Oh, nothing," repeated the youth.



He resolved not to deal the little blow.  It



148


was sufficient that the fact made him glad.  It


was not necessary to knock his friend on the head


with the misguided packet.



He had been possessed of much fear of his


friend, for he saw how easily questionings could


make holes in his feelings.  Lately, he had as-


sured himself that the altered comrade would not


tantalize him with a persistent curiosity, but he


felt certain that during the first period of leisure


his friend would ask him to relate his adventures


of the previous day.



He now rejoiced in the possession of a small


weapon with which he could prostrate his com-


rade at the first signs of a cross-examination.  He


was master.  It would now be he who could


laugh and shoot the shafts of derision.



The friend had, in a weak hour, spoken with


sobs of his own death.  He had delivered a mel-


ancholy oration previous to his funeral, and had


doubtless in the packet of letters, presented vari-


ous keepsakes to relatives.  But he had not died,


and thus he had delivered himself into the hands


of the youth.



The latter felt immensely superior to his


friend, but he inclined to condescension.  He


adopted toward him an air of patronizing good


humor.



His self-pride was now entirely restored.  In


the shade of its flourishing growth he stood with


braced and self-confident legs, and since nothing


could now be discovered he did not shrink from


an encounter with the eyes of judges, and allowed


no thoughts of his own to keep him from an


attitude of manfulness.  He had performed his


mistakes in the dark, so he was still a man.



Indeed, when he remembered his fortunes of


yesterday, and looked at them from a distance he


began to see something fine there.  He had


license to be pompous and veteranlike.



His panting agonies of the past he put out of


his sight.



In the present, he declared to himself that it


was only the doomed and the damned who roared


with sincerity at circumstance.  Few but they


ever did it.  A man with a full stomach and the


respect of his fellows had no business to scold


about anything that he might think to be wrong


in the ways of the universe, or even with the


ways of society.  Let the unfortunates rail; the


others may play marbles.



He did not give a great deal of thought to


these battles that lay directly before him.  It was


not essential that he should plan his ways in


regard to them.  He had been taught that many


obligations of a life were easily avoided.  The


lessons of yesterday had been that retribution


was a laggard and blind.  With these facts before


him he did not deem it necessary that he should


become feverish over the possibilities of the


ensuing twenty-four hours.  He could leave


much to chance.  Besides, a faith in himself had


secretly blossomed.  There was a little flower of


confidence growing within him.  He was now a


man of experience.  He had been out among the


dragons, he said, and he assured himself that they


were not so hideous as he had imagined them.


Also, they were inaccurate; they did not sting


with precision.  A stout heart often defied, and


defying, escaped.



And, furthermore, how could they kill him


who was the chosen of gods and doomed to


greatness?



He remembered how some of the men had


run from the battle.  As he recalled their terror-


struck faces he felt a scorn for them.  They had


surely been more fleet and more wild than was


absolutely necessary.  They were weak mortals.


As for himself, he had fled with discretion and


dignity.



He was aroused from this reverie by his


friend, who, having hitched about nervously and


blinked at the trees for a time, suddenly coughed


in an introductory way, and spoke.



"Fleming!"



"What?"



The friend put his hand up to his mouth and


coughed again.  He fidgeted in his jacket.



"Well," he gulped, at last, "I guess yeh might


as well give me back them letters."  Dark, prick-


ling blood had flushed into his cheeks and brow.



"All right, Wilson," said the youth.  He


loosened two buttons of his coat, thrust in his


hand, and brought forth the packet.  As he ex-


tended it to his friend the latter's face was turned


from him.



He had been slow in the act of producing the


packet because during it he had been trying to


invent a remarkable comment upon the affair.


He could conjure nothing of sufficient point.  He


was compelled to allow his friend to escape


unmolested with his packet.  And for this he


took unto himself considerable credit.  It was a


generous thing.



His friend at his side seemed suffering great


shame.  As he contemplated him, the youth felt


his heart grow more strong and stout.  He had


never been compelled to blush in such manner


for his acts; he was an individual of extraordi-


nary virtues.



He reflected, with condescending pity: "Too


bad!  Too bad!  The poor devil, it makes him


feel tough!"



After this incident, and as he reviewed the


battle pictures he had seen, he felt quite com-


petent to return home and make the hearts of


the people glow with stories of war.  He could


see himself in a room of warm tints telling tales


to listeners.  He could exhibit laurels.  They


were insignificant; still, in a district where


laurels were infrequent, they might shine.



He saw his gaping audience picturing him as


the central figure in blazing scenes.  And he


imagined the consternation and the ejaculations


of his mother and the young lady at the seminary


as they drank his recitals.  Their vague feminine


formula for beloved ones doing brave deeds on


the field of battle without risk of life would be


destroyed.



 


 


 


CHAPTER XVI.



 


A SPUTTERING of musketry was always to be


heard.  Later, the cannon had entered the dis-


pute.  In the fog-filled air their voices made a


thudding sound.  The reverberations were con-


tinued.  This part of the world led a strange,


battleful existence.



The youth's regiment was marched to relieve


a command that had lain long in some damp


trenches.  The men took positions behind a curv-


ing line of rifle pits that had been turned up, like


a large furrow, along the line of woods.  Before


them was a level stretch, peopled with short,


deformed stumps.  From the woods beyond


came the dull popping of the skirmishers and


pickets, firing in the fog.  From the right came


the noise of a terrific fracas.



The men cuddled behind the small embank-


ment and sat in easy attitudes awaiting their


turn.  Many had their backs to the firing.  The


youth's friend lay down, buried his face in his



154


arms, and almost instantly, it seemed, he was in a


deep sleep.



The youth leaned his breast against the


brown dirt and peered over at the woods and up


and down the line.  Curtains of trees interfered


with his ways of vision.  He could see the low


line of trenches but for a short distance.  A few


idle flags were perched on the dirt hills.  Behind


them were rows of dark bodies with a few heads


sticking curiously over the top.



Always the noise of skirmishers came from


the woods on the front and left, and the din on


the right had grown to frightful proportions.


The guns were roaring without an instant's pause


for breath.  It seemed that the cannon had come


from all parts and were engaged in a stupendous


wrangle.  It became impossible to make a sen-


tence heard.



The youth wished to launch a joke--a quota-


tion from newspapers.  He desired to say, "All


quiet on the Rappahannock," but the guns refused


to permit even a comment upon their uproar.


He never successfully concluded the sentence.


But at last the guns stopped, and among the


men in the rifle pits rumors again flew, like birds,


but they were now for the most part black


creatures who flapped their wings drearily near


to the ground and refused to rise on any wings of


hope.  The men's faces grew doleful from the


interpreting of omens.  Tales of hesitation and


uncertainty on the part of those high in place and


responsibility came to their ears.  Stories of


disaster were borne into their minds with many


proofs.  This din of musketry on the right, grow-


ing like a released genie of sound, expressed and


emphasized the army's plight.



The men were disheartened and began to


mutter.  They made gestures expressive of the


sentence: "Ah, what more can we do?"  And it


could always be seen that they were bewildered


by the alleged news and could not fully compre-


hend a defeat.



Before the gray mists had been totally ob-


literated by the sun rays, the regiment was march-


ing in a spread column that was retiring carefully


through the woods.  The disordered, hurrying


lines of the enemy could sometimes be seen down


through the groves and little fields.  They were


yelling, shrill and exultant.



At this sight the youth forgot many personal


matters and became greatly enraged.  He ex-


ploded in loud sentences.  "B'jiminey, we're


generaled by a lot 'a lunkheads."



"More than one feller has said that t'-day,"


observed a man.



His friend, recently aroused, was still very


drowsy.  He looked behind him until his mind


took in the meaning of the movement.  Then he


sighed.  "Oh, well, I s'pose we got licked," he


remarked sadly.



The youth had a thought that it would not be


handsome for him to freely condemn other men.


He made an attempt to restrain himself, but the


words upon his tongue were too bitter.  He


presently began a long and intricate denunciation


of the commander of the forces.



"Mebbe, it wa'n't all his fault--not all to-


gether.  He did th' best he knowed.  It's our


luck t' git licked often," said his friend in a weary


tone.  He was trudging along with stooped


shoulders and shifting eyes like a man who has


been caned and kicked.



"Well, don't we fight like the devil?  Don't


we do all that men can?" demanded the youth


loudly.



He was secretly dumfounded at this sentiment


when it came from his lips.  For a moment his


face lost its valor and he looked guiltily about


him.  But no one questioned his right to deal in


such words, and presently he recovered his air


of courage.  He went on to repeat a statement


he had heard going from group to group at the


camp that morning.  "The brigadier said he


never saw a new reg'ment fight the way we


fought yestirday, didn't he?  And we didn't do


better than many another reg'ment, did we?


Well, then, you can't say it's th' army's fault, can


you?"



In his reply, the friend's voice was stern.  "'A


course not," he said.  "No man dare say we


don't fight like th' devil.  No man will ever dare


say it.  Th' boys fight like hell-roosters.  But


still--still, we don't have no luck."



"Well, then, if we fight like the devil an'


don't ever whip, it must be the general's fault,"


said the youth grandly and decisively.  "And I


don't see any sense in fighting and fighting and


fighting, yet always losing through some derned


old lunkhead of a general."



A sarcastic man who was tramping at the


youth's side, then spoke lazily.  "Mebbe yeh


think yeh fit th' hull battle yestirday, Fleming,"


he remarked.



The speech pierced the youth.  Inwardly he


was reduced to an abject pulp by these chance


words.  His legs quaked privately.  He cast a


frightened glance at the sarcastic man.



"Why, no," he hastened to say in a concili-


ating voice, "I don't think I fought the whole


battle yesterday."



But the other seemed innocent of any deeper


meaning.  Apparently, he had no information.


It was merely his habit.  "Oh!" he replied in the


same tone of calm derision.



The youth, nevertheless, felt a threat.  His


mind shrank from going near to the danger, and


thereafter he was silent.  The significance of the


sarcastic man's words took from him all loud


moods that would make him appear prominent.


He became suddenly a modest person.



There was low-toned talk among the troops.


The officers were impatient and snappy, their


countenances clouded with the tales of misfor-


tune.  The troops, sifting through the forest,


were sullen.  In the youth's company once a


man's laugh rang out.  A dozen soldiers turned


their faces quickly toward him and frowned with


vague displeasure.



The noise of firing dogged their footsteps.


Sometimes, it seemed to be driven a little way,


but it always returned again with increased


insolence.  The men muttered and cursed,


throwing black looks in its direction.



In a clear space the troops were at last halted.


Regiments and brigades, broken and detached


through their encounters with thickets, grew


together again and lines were faced toward the


pursuing bark of the enemy's infantry.



This noise, following like the yellings of eager,


metallic hounds, increased to a loud and joyous


burst, and then, as the sun went serenely up the


sky, throwing illuminating rays into the gloomy


thickets, it broke forth into prolonged pealings.


The woods began to crackle as if afire.



"Whoop-a-dadee," said a man, "here we are!


Everybody fightin'.  Blood an' destruction."



"I was willin' t' bet they'd attack as soon as


th' sun got fairly up," savagely asserted the


lieutenant who commanded the youth's company.


He jerked without mercy at his little mustache.


He strode to and fro with dark dignity in the


rear of his men, who were lying down behind


whatever protection they had collected.



A battery had trundled into position in the


rear and was thoughtfully shelling the distance.


The regiment, unmolested as yet, awaited the


moment when the gray shadows of the woods


before them should be slashed by the lines of


flame.  There was much growling and swearing.



"Good Gawd," the youth grumbled, "we're


always being chased around like rats!  It makes


me sick.  Nobody seems to know where we go


or why we go.  We just get fired around from


pillar to post and get licked here and get licked


there, and nobody knows what it's done for.  It


makes a man feel like a damn' kitten in a bag.


Now, I'd like to know what the eternal thunders


we was marched into these woods for anyhow,



 


THE RED BADGE OF COURAGE 161



unless it was to give the rebs a regular pot shot


at us.  We came in here and got our legs all


tangled up in these cussed briers, and then we


begin to fight and the rebs had an easy time of it.


Don't tell me it's just luck!  I know better.  It's


this derned old--"



The friend seemed jaded, but he interrupted


his comrade with a voice of calm confidence.


"It'll turn out all right in th' end," he said.



"Oh, the devil it will!  You always talk like a


dog-hanged parson.  Don't tell me!  I know--"



At this time there was an interposition by the


savage-minded lieutenant, who was obliged to


vent some of his inward dissatisfaction upon his


men.  "You boys shut right up!  There no


need 'a your wastin' your breath in long-winded


arguments about this an' that an' th' other.


You've been jawin' like a lot 'a old hens.  All


you've got t' do is to fight, an' you'll get plenty 'a


that t' do in about ten minutes.  Less talkin' an'


more fightin' is what's best for you boys.  I never


saw sech gabbling jackasses."



He paused, ready to pounce upon any man


who might have the temerity to reply.  No words


being said, he resumed his dignified pacing.



"There's too much chin music an' too little


fightin' in this war, anyhow," he said to them,


turning his head for a final remark.



The day had grown more white, until the sun


shed his full radiance upon the thronged forest.


A sort of a gust of battle came sweeping toward


that part of the line where lay the youth's regi-


ment.  The front shifted a trifle to meet it square-


ly.  There was a wait.  In this part of the field


there passed slowly the intense moments that pre-


cede the tempest.



A single rifle flashed in a thicket before the


regiment.  In an instant it was joined by many


others.  There was a mighty song of clashes and


crashes that went sweeping through the woods.


The guns in the rear, aroused and enraged by


shells that had been thrown burlike at them,


suddenly involved themselves in a hideous alter-


cation with another band of guns.  The battle


roar settled to a rolling thunder, which was a


single, long explosion.



In the regiment there was a peculiar kind of


hesitation denoted in the attitudes of the men.


They were worn, exhausted, having slept but lit-


tle and labored much.  They rolled their eyes


toward the advancing battle as they stood await-


ing the shock.  Some shrank and flinched.  They


stood as men tied to stakes.



 


 


 


CHAPTER XVII.



 


THIS advance of the enemy had seemed to the


youth like a ruthless hunting.  He began to fume


with rage and exasperation.  He beat his foot


upon the ground, and scowled with hate at the


swirling smoke that was approaching like a phan-


tom flood.  There was a maddening quality in


this seeming resolution of the foe to give him no


rest, to give him no time to sit down and think.


Yesterday he had fought and had fled rapidly.


There had been many adventures.  For to-day he


felt that he had earned opportunities for contem-


plative repose.  He could have enjoyed portraying


to uninitiated listeners various scenes at which he


had been a witness or ably discussing the pro-


cesses of war with other proved men.  Too it was


important that he should have time for physical


recuperation.  He was sore and stiff from his ex-


periences.  He had received his fill of all exer-


tions, and he wished to rest.



But those other men seemed never to grow


weary; they were fighting with their old speed.



163


He had a wild hate for the relentless foe.  Yester-


day, when he had imagined the universe to be


against him, he had hated it, little gods and big


gods; to-day he hated the army of the foe with


the same great hatred.  He was not going to be


badgered of his life, like a kitten chased by boys,


he said.  It was not well to drive men into final


corners; at those moments they could all develop


teeth and claws.



He leaned and spoke into his friend's ear.  He


menaced the woods with a gesture.  "If they


keep on chasing us, by Gawd, they'd better watch


out.  Can't stand TOO much."



The friend twisted his head and made a calm


reply.  "If they keep on a-chasin' us they'll drive


us all inteh th' river."



The youth cried out savagely at this state-


ment.  He crouched behind a little tree, with his


eyes burning hatefully and his teeth set in a cur-


like snarl.  The awkward bandage was still about


his head, and upon it, over his wound, there was


a spot of dry blood.  His hair was wondrously


tousled, and some straggling, moving locks hung


over the cloth of the bandage down toward his


forehead.  His jacket and shirt were open at the


throat, and exposed his young bronzed neck.


There could be seen spasmodic gulpings at his


throat.



His fingers twined nervously about his rifle.


He wished that it was an engine of annihilating


power.  He felt that he and his companions were


being taunted and derided from sincere convic-


tions that they were poor and puny.  His knowl-


edge of his inability to take vengeance for it made


his rage into a dark and stormy specter, that pos-


sessed him and made him dream of abominable


cruelties.  The tormentors were flies sucking in-


solently at his blood, and he thought that he would


have given his life for a revenge of seeing their


faces in pitiful plights.



The winds of battle had swept all about the


regiment, until the one rifle, instantly followed by


others, flashed in its front.  A moment later the


regiment roared forth its sudden and valiant re-


tort.  A dense wall of smoke settled slowly down.


It was furiously slit and slashed by the knifelike


fire from the rifles.



To the youth the fighters resembled animals


tossed for a death struggle into a dark pit.  There


was a sensation that he and his fellows, at bay,


were pushing back, always pushing fierce on-


slaughts of creatures who were slippery.  Their


beams of crimson seemed to get no purchase upon


the bodies of their foes; the latter seemed to evade


them with ease, and come through, between,


around, and about with unopposed skill.



When, in a dream, it occurred to the youth


that his rifle was an impotent stick, he lost sense


of everything but his hate, his desire to smash


into pulp the glittering smile of victory which he


could feel upon the faces of his enemies.



The blue smoke-swallowed line curled and


writhed like a snake stepped upon.  It swung its


ends to and fro in an agony of fear and rage.



The youth was not conscious that he was erect


upon his feet.  He did not know the direction of


the ground.  Indeed, once he even lost the habit


of balance and fell heavily.  He was up again


immediately.  One thought went through the


chaos of his brain at the time.  He wondered if


he had fallen because he had been shot.  But the


suspicion flew away at once.  He did not think


more of it.



He had taken up a first position behind the lit-


tle tree, with a direct determination to hold it


against the world.  He had not deemed it possi-


ble that his army could that day succeed, and


from this he felt the ability to fight harder.  But


the throng had surged in all ways, until he lost


directions and locations, save that he knew where


lay the enemy.



The flames bit him, and the hot smoke broiled


his skin.  His rifle barrel grew so hot that ordi-


narily he could not have borne it upon his palms;


but he kept on stuffing cartridges into it, and


pounding them with his clanking, bending ram-


rod.  If he aimed at some changing form through


the smoke, he pulled his trigger with a fierce


grunt, as if he were dealing a blow of the fist with


all his strength.



When the enemy seemed falling back before


him and his fellows, he went instantly forward,


like a dog who, seeing his foes lagging, turns and


insists upon being pursued.  And when he was


compelled to retire again, he did it slowly, sul-


lenly, taking steps of wrathful despair.



Once he, in his intent hate, was almost alone,


and was firing, when all those near him had ceased.


He was so engrossed in his occupation that he


was not aware of a lull.



He was recalled by a hoarse laugh and a sen-


tence that came to his ears in a voice of contempt


and amazement.  "Yeh infernal fool, don't yeh


know enough t' quit when there ain't anything t'


shoot at?  Good Gawd!"



He turned then and, pausing with his rifle


thrown half into position, looked at the blue line


of his comrades.  During this moment of leisure


they seemed all to be engaged in staring with


astonishment at him.  They had become specta-


tors.  Turning to the front again he saw, under


the lifted smoke, a deserted ground.



He looked bewildered for a moment.  Then


there appeared upon the glazed vacancy of his


eyes a diamond point of intelligence.  "Oh," he


said, comprehending.



He returned to his comrades and threw him-


self upon the ground.  He sprawled like a man


who had been thrashed.  His flesh seemed strange-


ly on fire, and the sounds of the battle continued


in his ears.  He groped blindly for his canteen.



The lieutenant was crowing.  He seemed


drunk with fighting.  He called out to the youth:


"By heavens, if I had ten thousand wild cats like


you I could tear th' stomach outa this war in


less'n a week!"  He puffed out his chest with


large dignity as he said it.



Some of the men muttered and looked at the


youth in awe-struck ways.  It was plain that as


he had gone on loading and firing and cursing


without the proper intermission, they had found


time to regard him.  And they now looked upon


him as a war devil.



The friend came staggering to him.  There


was some fright and dismay in his voice.  "Are yeh


all right, Fleming?  Do yeh feel all right?  There


ain't nothin' th' matter with yeh, Henry, is there?"



"No," said the youth with difficulty.  His


throat seemed full of knobs and burs.



These incidents made the youth ponder.  It


was revealed to him that he had been a barbarian,


a beast.  He had fought like a pagan who de-


fends his religion.  Regarding it, he saw that it


was fine, wild, and, in some ways, easy.  He had


been a tremendous figure, no doubt.  By this


struggle he had overcome obstacles which he


had admitted to be mountains.  They had fallen


like paper peaks, and he was now what he called


a hero.  And he had not been aware of the pro-


cess.  He had slept and, awakening, found him-


self a knight.



He lay and basked in the occasional stares of


his comrades.  Their faces were varied in de-


grees of blackness from the burned powder.


Some were utterly smudged.  They were reek-


ing with perspiration, and their breaths came


hard and wheezing.  And from these soiled ex-


panses they peered at him.



"Hot work!  Hot work!" cried the lieu-


tenant deliriously.  He walked up and down,


restless and eager.  Sometimes his voice could


be heard in a wild, incomprehensible laugh.



When he had a particularly profound thought


upon the science of war he always unconsciously


addressed himself to the youth.



There was some grim rejoicing by the men.


"By thunder, I bet this army'll never see another


new reg'ment like us!"


"You bet!"



 


  "A dog, a woman, an' a walnut tree,


   Th' more yeh beat 'em, th' better they be!



That's like us."



"Lost a piler men, they did.  If an' ol' woman


swep' up th' woods she'd git a dustpanful."



"Yes, an' if she'll come around ag'in in 'bout


an' hour she'll git a pile more."



The forest still bore its burden of clamor.


From off under the trees came the rolling clatter


of the musketry.  Each distant thicket seemed a


strange porcupine with quills of flame.  A cloud


of dark smoke, as from smoldering ruins, went


up toward the sun now bright and gay in the


blue, enameled sky.



 


 


 


CHAPTER XVIII.



 


THE ragged line had respite for some min-


utes, but during its pause the struggle in the


forest became magnified until the trees seemed to


quiver from the firing and the ground to shake


from the rushing of the men.  The voices of the


cannon were mingled in a long and interminable


row.  It seemed difficult to live in such an atmos-


phere.  The chests of the men strained for a bit


of freshness, and their throats craved water.



There was one shot through the body, who


raised a cry of bitter lamentation when came this


lull.  Perhaps he had been calling out during


the fighting also, but at that time no one had


heard him.  But now the men turned at the woe-


ful complaints of him upon the ground.



"Who is it?  Who is it?"



"It's Jimmie Rogers.  Jimmie Rogers."



When their eyes first encountered him there


was a sudden halt, as if they feared to go near.


He was thrashing about in the grass, twisting his



171


shuddering body into many strange postures.


He was screaming loudly.  This instant's hesita-


tion seemed to fill him with a tremendous, fantas-


tic contempt, and he damned them in shrieked


sentences.



The youth's friend had a geographical illusion


concerning a stream, and he obtained permission


to go for some water.  Immediately canteens


were showered upon him.  "Fill mine, will


yeh?"  "Bring me some, too."  "And me, too."


He departed, ladened.  The youth went with his


friend, feeling a desire to throw his heated body


onto the stream and, soaking there, drink quarts.



They made a hurried search for the supposed


stream, but did not find it.  "No water here,"


said the youth.  They turned without delay and


began to retrace their steps.



From their position as they again faced to-


ward the place of the fighting, they could of


course comprehend a greater amount of the bat-


tle than when their visions had been blurred by


the hurling smoke of the line.  They could see


dark stretches winding along the land, and on


one cleared space there was a row of guns mak-


ing gray clouds, which were filled with large


flashes of orange-colored flame.  Over some foli-


age they could see the roof of a house.  One win-


dow, glowing a deep murder red, shone squarely


through the leaves.  From the edifice a tall lean-


ing tower of smoke went far into the sky.



Looking over their own troops, they saw


mixed masses slowly getting into regular form.


The sunlight made twinkling points of the bright


steel.  To the rear there was a glimpse of a dis-


tant roadway as it curved over a slope.  It was


crowded with retreating infantry.  From all the


interwoven forest arose the smoke and bluster


of the battle.  The air was always occupied by


a blaring.



Near where they stood shells were flip-flap-


ping and hooting.  Occasional bullets buzzed in


the air and spanged into tree trunks.  Wounded


men and other stragglers were slinking through


the woods.



Looking down an aisle of the grove, the


youth and his companion saw a jangling general


and his staff almost ride upon a wounded man,


who was crawling on his hands and knees.  The


general reined strongly at his charger's opened


and foamy mouth and guided it with dexterous


horsemanship past the man.  The latter scram-


bled in wild and torturing haste.  His strength


evidently failed him as he reached a place of


safety.  One of his arms suddenly weakened, and


he fell, sliding over upon his back.  He lay


stretched out, breathing gently.



A moment later the small, creaking cavalcade


was directly in front of the two soldiers.  An-


other officer, riding with the skillful abandon of a


cowboy, galloped his horse to a position directly


before the general.  The two unnoticed foot sol-


diers made a little show of going on, but they


lingered near in the desire to overhear the con-


versation.  Perhaps, they thought, some great


inner historical things would be said.



The general, whom the boys knew as the com-


mander of their division, looked at the other


officer and spoke coolly, as if he were criticising


his clothes.  "Th' enemy's formin' over there for


another charge," he said.  "It'll be directed


against Whiterside, an' I fear they'll break


through there unless we work like thunder t' stop


them."



The other swore at his restive horse, and then


cleared his throat.  He made a gesture toward


his cap.  "It'll be hell t' pay stoppin' them," he


said shortly.



"I presume so," remarked the general.  Then


he began to talk rapidly and in a lower tone.  He


frequently illustrated his words with a pointing


finger.  The two infantrymen could hear nothing


until finally he asked: "What troops can you


spare?"



The officer who rode like a cowboy reflected


for an instant.  "Well," he said, "I had to order


in th' 12th to help th' 76th, an' I haven't really got


any.  But there's th' 304th.  They fight like a


lot 'a mule drivers.  I can spare them best


of any."



The youth and his friend exchanged glances


of astonishment.



The general spoke sharply.  "Get 'em ready,


then.  I'll watch developments from here, an'


send you word when t' start them.  It'll happen


in five minutes."



As the other officer tossed his fingers toward


his cap and wheeling his horse, started away, the


general called out to him in a sober voice: "I


don't believe many of your mule drivers will get


back."



The other shouted something in reply.  He


smiled.



With scared faces, the youth and his compan-


ion hurried back to the line.



These happenings had occupied an incredibly


short time, yet the youth felt that in them he had


been made aged.  New eyes were given to him.


And the most startling thing was to learn sud-


denly that he was very insignificant.  The officer


spoke of the regiment as if he referred to a


broom.  Some part of the woods needed sweep-


ing, perhaps, and he merely indicated a broom in


a tone properly indifferent to its fate.  It was


war, no doubt, but it appeared strange.



As the two boys approached the line, the lieu-


tenant perceived them and swelled with wrath.


"Fleming--Wilson--how long does it take yeh


to git water, anyhow--where yeh been to."



But his oration ceased as he saw their eyes,


which were large with great tales.  "We're goin'


t' charge--we're goin' t' charge!" cried the


youth's friend, hastening with his news.



"Charge?" said the lieutenant.  "Charge?


Well, b'Gawd!  Now, this is real fightin'."  Over


his soiled countenance there went a boastful


smile.  "Charge?  Well, b'Gawd!"



A little group of soldiers surrounded the two


youths.  "Are we, sure 'nough?  Well, I'll be


derned!  Charge?  What fer?  What at?  Wil-


son, you're lyin'."



"I hope to die," said the youth, pitching his


tones to the key of angry remonstrance.  "Sure


as shooting, I tell you."



And his friend spoke in re-enforcement.  "Not


by a blame sight, he ain't lyin'.  We heard 'em


talkin'."



They caught sight of two mounted figures a


short distance from them.  One was the colonel


of the regiment and the other was the officer who


had received orders from the commander of the


division.  They were gesticulating at each other.


The soldier, pointing at them, interpreted the


scene.



One man had a final objection: "How could


yeh hear 'em talkin'?"  But the men, for a large


part, nodded, admitting that previously the two


friends had spoken truth.



They settled back into reposeful attitudes


with airs of having accepted the matter.  And


they mused upon it, with a hundred varieties of


expression.  It was an engrossing thing to think


about.  Many tightened their belts carefully and


hitched at their trousers.



A moment later the officers began to bustle


among the men, pushing them into a more com-


pact mass and into a better alignment.  They


chased those that straggled and fumed at a few


men who seemed to show by their attitudes that


they had decided to remain at that spot.  They


were like critical shepherds struggling with sheep.



Presently, the regiment seemed to draw itself


up and heave a deep breath.  None of the men's


faces were mirrors of large thoughts.  The sol-


diers were bended and stooped like sprinters be-


fore a signal.  Many pairs of glinting eyes peered


from the grimy faces toward the curtains of the


deeper woods.  They seemed to be engaged in


deep calculations of time and distance.



They were surrounded by the noises of the


monstrous altercation between the two armies.


The world was fully interested in other matters.


Apparently, the regiment had its small affair to


itself.



The youth, turning, shot a quick, inquiring


glance at his friend.  The latter returned to him


the same manner of look.  They were the only


ones who possessed an inner knowledge.  "Mule


drivers--hell t' pay--don't believe many will get


back."  It was an ironical secret.  Still, they saw


no hesitation in each other's faces, and they nod-


ded a mute and unprotesting assent when a shag-


gy man near them said in a meek voice: "We'll


git swallowed."



 


 


 


CHAPTER XIX.



 


THE youth stared at the land in front of him.


Its foliages now seemed to veil powers and hor-


rors.  He was unaware of the machinery of orders


that started the charge, although from the cor-


ners of his eyes he saw an officer, who looked


like a boy a-horseback, come galloping, waving


his hat.  Suddenly he felt a straining and heaving


among the men.  The line fell slowly forward


like a toppling wall, and, with a convulsive gasp


that was intended for a cheer, the regiment began


its journey.  The youth was pushed and jostled


for a moment before he understood the move-


ment at all, but directly he lunged ahead and


began to run.



He fixed his eye upon a distant and promi-


nent clump of trees where he had concluded the


enemy were to be met, and he ran toward it as


toward a goal.  He had believed throughout that


it was a mere question of getting over an unpleas-


ant matter as quickly as possible, and he ran



179


desperately, as if pursued for a murder.  His


face was drawn hard and tight with the stress of


his endeavor.  His eyes were fixed in a lurid


glare.  And with his soiled and disordered dress,


his red and inflamed features surmounted by the


dingy rag with its spot of blood, his wildly


swinging rifle and banging accouterments, he


looked to be an insane soldier.



As the regiment swung from its position out


into a cleared space the woods and thickets be-


fore it awakened.  Yellow flames leaped toward


it from many directions.  The forest made a tre-


mendous objection.



The line lurched straight for a moment.  Then


the right wing swung forward; it in turn was


surpassed by the left.  Afterward the center


careered to the front until the regiment was a


wedge-shaped mass, but an instant later the


opposition of the bushes, trees, and uneven places


on the ground split the command and scattered


it into detached clusters.



The youth, light-footed, was unconsciously in


advance.  His eyes still kept note of the clump of


trees.  From all places near it the clannish yell


of the enemy could be heard.  The little flames


of rifles leaped from it.  The song of the bullets


was in the air and shells snarled among the tree-


tops.  One tumbled directly into the middle of a


hurrying group and exploded in crimson fury.


There was an instant's spectacle of a man, almost


over it, throwing up his hands to shield his eyes.



Other men, punched by bullets, fell in gro-


tesque agonies.  The regiment left a coherent


trail of bodies.



They had passed into a clearer atmosphere.


There was an effect like a revelation in the new


appearance of the landscape.  Some men work-


ing madly at a battery were plain to them, and


the opposing infantry's lines were defined by the


gray walls and fringes of smoke.



It seemed to the youth that he saw every-


thing.  Each blade of the green grass was bold


and clear.  He thought that he was aware of


every change in the thin, transparent vapor that


floated idly in sheets.  The brown or gray trunks


of the trees showed each roughness of their sur-


faces.  And the men of the regiment, with their


starting eyes and sweating faces, running madly,


or falling, as if thrown headlong, to queer,


heaped-up corpses--all were comprehended.  His


mind took a mechanical but firm impression, so


that afterward everything was pictured and ex-


plained to him, save why he himself was there.



But there was a frenzy made from this furious


rush.  The men, pitching forward insanely, had


burst into cheerings, moblike and barbaric, but


tuned in strange keys that can arouse the dullard


and the stoic.  It made a mad enthusiasm that, it


seemed, would be incapable of checking itself


before granite and brass.  There was the deli-


rium that encounters despair and death, and is


heedless and blind to the odds.  It is a temporary


but sublime absence of selfishness.  And because


it was of this order was the reason, perhaps, why


the youth wondered, afterward, what reasons he


could have had for being there.



Presently the straining pace ate up the ener-


gies of the men.  As if by agreement, the leaders


began to slacken their speed.  The volleys di-


rected against them had had a seeming windlike


effect.  The regiment snorted and blew.  Among


some stolid trees it began to falter and hesitate.


The men, staring intently, began to wait for some


of the distant walls of smoke to move and dis-


close to them the scene.  Since much of their


strength and their breath had vanished, they re-


turned to caution.  They were become men


again.



The youth had a vague belief that he had run


miles, and he thought, in a way, that he was now


in some new and unknown land.



The moment the regiment ceased its advance


the protesting splutter of musketry became a


steadied roar.  Long and accurate fringes of


smoke spread out.  From the top of a small hill


came level belchings of yellow flame that caused


an inhuman whistling in the air.



The men, halted, had opportunity to see some


of their comrades dropping with moans and


shrieks.  A few lay under foot, still or wailing.


And now for an instant the men stood, their rifles


slack in their hands, and watched the regiment


dwindle.  They appeared dazed and stupid.  This


spectacle seemed to paralyze them, overcome


them with a fatal fascination.  They stared wood-


enly at the sights, and, lowering their eyes, looked


from face to face.  It was a strange pause, and a


strange silence.



Then, above the sounds of the outside commo-


tion, arose the roar of the lieutenant.  He strode


suddenly forth, his infantile features black with


rage.



"Come on, yeh fools!" he bellowed.  "Come


on!  Yeh can't stay here.  Yeh must come on."


He said more, but much of it could not be under-


stood.



He started rapidly forward, with his head


turned toward the men.  "Come on," he was


shouting.  The men stared with blank and yokel-


like eyes at him.  He was obliged to halt and


retrace his steps.  He stood then with his back


to the enemy and delivered gigantic curses into


the faces of the men.  His body vibrated from


the weight and force of his imprecations.  And


he could string oaths with the facility of a maiden


who strings beads.



The friend of the youth aroused.  Lurching


suddenly forward and dropping to his knees, he


fired an angry shot at the persistent woods.  This


action awakened the men.  They huddled no


more like sheep.  They seemed suddenly to be-


think them of their weapons, and at once com-


menced firing.  Belabored by their officers, they


began to move forward.  The regiment, involved


like a cart involved in mud and muddle, started


unevenly with many jolts and jerks.  The men


stopped now every few paces to fire and load,


and in this manner moved slowly on from trees


to trees.



The flaming opposition in their front grew


with their advance until it seemed that all for-


ward ways were barred by the thin leaping


tongues, and off to the right an ominous demon-


stration could sometimes be dimly discerned.


The smoke lately generated was in confusing


clouds that made it difficult for the regiment to


proceed with intelligence.  As he passed through


each curling mass the youth wondered what


would confront him on the farther side.



The command went painfully forward until an


open space interposed between them and the


lurid lines.  Here, crouching and cowering be-


hind some trees, the men clung with desperation,


as if threatened by a wave.  They looked wild-


eyed, and as if amazed at this furious disturbance


they had stirred.  In the storm there was an


ironical expression of their importance.  The


faces of the men, too, showed a lack of a certain


feeling of responsibility for being there.  It was


as if they had been driven.  It was the dominant


animal failing to remember in the supreme mo-


ments the forceful causes of various superficial


qualities.  The whole affair seemed incompre-


hensible to many of them.



As they halted thus the lieutenant again be-


gan to bellow profanely.  Regardless of the vin-


dictive threats of the bullets, he went about


coaxing, berating, and bedamning.  His lips,


that were habitually in a soft and childlike curve,


were now writhed into unholy contortions.  He


swore by all possible deities.



Once he grabbed the youth by the arm.


"Come on, yeh lunkhead!" he roared.  "Come


on!  We'll all git killed if we stay here.  We've


on'y got t' go across that lot.  An' then"--the


remainder of his idea disappeared in a blue haze


of curses.



The youth stretched forth his arm.  "Cross


there?"  His mouth was puckered in doubt and


awe.



"Certainly.  Jest 'cross th' lot!  We can't


stay here," screamed the lieutenant.  He poked


his face close to the youth and waved his ban-


daged hand.  "Come on!"  Presently he grap-


pled with him as if for a wrestling bout.  It was


as if he planned to drag the youth by the ear on


to the assault.



The private felt a sudden unspeakable indig-


nation against his officer.  He wrenched fiercely


and shook him off.



"Come on herself, then," he yelled.  There


was a bitter challenge in his voice.



They galloped together down the regimental


front.  The friend scrambled after them.  In front


of the colors the three men began to bawl:


"Come on! come on!"  They danced and gy-


rated like tortured savages.



The flag, obedient to these appeals, bended its


glittering form and swept toward them.  The


men wavered in indecision for a moment, and then


with a long, wailful cry the dilapidated regiment


surged forward and began its new journey.



Over the field went the scurrying mass.  It


was a handful of men splattered into the faces of


the enemy.  Toward it instantly sprang the yel-


low tongues.  A vast quantity of blue smoke


hung before them.  A mighty banging made ears


valueless.



The youth ran like a madman to reach the


woods before a bullet could discover him.  He


ducked his head low, like a football player.  In


his haste his eyes almost closed, and the scene was


a wild blur.  Pulsating saliva stood at the corners


of his mouth.



Within him, as he hurled himself forward, was


born a love, a despairing fondness for this flag


which was near him.  It was a creation of beauty


and invulnerability.  It was a goddess, radiant,


that bended its form with an imperious gesture to


him.  It was a woman, red and white, hating and


loving, that called him with the voice of his


hopes.  Because no harm could come to it he en-


dowed it with power.  He kept near, as if it


could be a saver of lives, and an imploring cry


went from his mind.



In the mad scramble he was aware that the


color sergeant flinched suddenly, as if struck by a


bludgeon.  He faltered, and then became motion-


less, save for his quivering knees.



He made a spring and a clutch at the pole.


At the same instant his friend grabbed it from the


other side.  They jerked at it, stout and furious,


but the color sergeant was dead, and the corpse


would not relinquish its trust.  For a moment


there was a grim encounter.  The dead man,


swinging with bended back, seemed to be obsti-


nately tugging, in ludicrous and awful ways, for


the possession of the flag.



It was past in an instant of time.  They


wrenched the flag furiously from the dead man,


and, as they turned again, the corpse swayed for-


ward with bowed head.  One arm swung high,


and the curved hand fell with heavy protest on


the friend's unheeding shoulder.



 


 


 


CHAPTER XX.



WHEN the two youths turned with the flag


they saw that much of the regiment had crum-


bled away, and the dejected remnant was coming


slowly back.  The men, having hurled themselves


in projectile fashion, had presently expended their


forces.  They slowly retreated, with their faces


still toward the spluttering woods, and their hot


rifles still replying to the din.  Several officers


were giving orders, their voices keyed to screams.



"Where in hell yeh goin'?" the lieutenant was


asking in a sarcastic howl.  And a red-bearded


officer, whose voice of triple brass could plainly


be heard, was commanding: "Shoot into 'em!


Shoot into 'em, Gawd damn their souls!"  There


was a melee of screeches, in which the men were


ordered to do conflicting and impossible things.



The youth and his friend had a small scuffle


over the flag.  "Give it t' me!"  "No, let me


keep it!"  Each felt satisfied with the other's pos-


session of it, but each felt bound to declare, by



189


an offer to carry the emblem, his willingness to


further risk himself.  The youth roughly pushed


his friend away.



The regiment fell back to the stolid trees.


There it halted for a moment to blaze at some


dark forms that had begun to steal upon its track.


Presently it resumed its march again, curving


among the tree trunks.  By the time the depleted


regiment had again reached the first open space


they were receiving a fast and merciless fire.


There seemed to be mobs all about them.



The greater part of the men, discouraged,


their spirits worn by the turmoil, acted as if


stunned.  They accepted the pelting of the bul-


lets with bowed and weary heads.  It was of no


purpose to strive against walls.  It was of no use


to batter themselves against granite.  And from


this consciousness that they had attempted to


conquer an unconquerable thing there seemed


to arise a feeling that they had been betrayed.


They glowered with bent brows, but danger-


ously, upon some of the officers, more particu-


larly upon the red-bearded one with the voice of


triple brass.



However, the rear of the regiment was fringed


with men, who continued to shoot irritably at the


advancing foes.  They seemed resolved to make


every trouble.  The youthful lieutenant was per-


haps the last man in the disordered mass.  His


forgotten back was toward the enemy.  He had


been shot in the arm.  It hung straight and rigid.


Occasionally he would cease to remember it, and


be about to emphasize an oath with a sweeping


gesture.  The multiplied pain caused him to


swear with incredible power.



The youth went along with slipping, uncertain


feet.  He kept watchful eyes rearward.  A scowl


of mortification and rage was upon his face.  He


had thought of a fine revenge upon the officer


who had referred to him and his fellows as mule


drivers.  But he saw that it could not come to


pass.  His dreams had collapsed when the mule


drivers, dwindling rapidly, had wavered and hes-


itated on the little clearing, and then had recoiled.


And now the retreat of the mule drivers was a


march of shame to him.



A dagger-pointed gaze from without his black-


ened face was held toward the enemy, but his


greater hatred was riveted upon the man, who,


not knowing him, had called him a mule driver.



When he knew that he and his comrades had


failed to do anything in successful ways that might


bring the little pangs of a kind of remorse upon


the officer, the youth allowed the rage of the baf-


fled to possess him.  This cold officer upon a


monument, who dropped epithets unconcernedly


down, would be finer as a dead man, he thought.


So grievous did he think it that he could


never possess the secret right to taunt truly in


answer.



He had pictured red letters of curious revenge.


"We ARE mule drivers, are we?"  And now he


was compelled to throw them away.



He presently wrapped his heart in the cloak


of his pride and kept the flag erect.  He ha-


rangued his fellows, pushing against their chests


with his free hand.  To those he knew well he


made frantic appeals, beseeching them by name.


Between him and the lieutenant, scolding and


near to losing his mind with rage, there was felt a


subtle fellowship and equality.  They supported


each other in all manner of hoarse, howling pro-


tests.



But the regiment was a machine run down.


The two men babbled at a forceless thing.  The


soldiers who had heart to go slowly were con-


tinually shaken in their resolves by a knowledge


that comrades were slipping with speed back to


the lines.  It was difficult to think of reputation


when others were thinking of skins.  Wounded


men were left crying on this black journey.



The smoke fringes and flames blustered al-


ways.  The youth, peering once through a sud-


den rift in a cloud, saw a brown mass of troops,


interwoven and magnified until they appeared to


be thousands.  A fierce-hued flag flashed before


his vision.



Immediately, as if the uplifting of the smoke


had been prearranged, the discovered troops


burst into a rasping yell, and a hundred flames


jetted toward the retreating band.  A rolling


gray cloud again interposed as the regiment dog-


gedly replied.  The youth had to depend again


upon his misused ears, which were trembling


and buzzing from the melee of musketry and yells.



The way seemed eternal.  In the clouded haze


men became panicstricken with the thought that


the regiment had lost its path, and was proceed-


ing in a perilous direction.  Once the men who


headed the wild procession turned and came push-


ing back against their comrades, screaming that


they were being fired upon from points which


they had considered to be toward their own lines.


At this cry a hysterical fear and dismay beset the


troops.  A soldier, who heretofore had been am-


bitious to make the regiment into a wise little


band that would proceed calmly amid the huge-


appearing difficulties, suddenly sank down and


buried his face in his arms with an air of bowing


to a doom.  From another a shrill lamentation


rang out filled with profane allusions to a general.


Men ran hither and thither, seeking with their


eyes roads of escape.  With serene regularity, as


if controlled by a schedule, bullets buffed into


men.



The youth walked stolidly into the midst of


the mob, and with his flag in his hands took a


stand as if he expected an attempt to push him to


the ground.  He unconsciously assumed the atti-


tude of the color bearer in the fight of the pre-


ceding day.  He passed over his brow a hand


that trembled.  His breath did not come freely.


He was choking during this small wait for the


crisis.



His friend came to him.  "Well, Henry, I


guess this is good-by--John."



"Oh, shut up, you damned fool!" replied the


youth, and he would not look at the other.



The officers labored like politicians to beat


the mass into a proper circle to face the men-


aces.  The ground was uneven and torn.  The


men curled into depressions and fitted them-


selves snugly behind whatever would frustrate


a bullet.



The youth noted with vague surprise that the


lieutenant was standing mutely with his legs far


apart and his sword held in the manner of a cane.


The youth wondered what had happened to his


vocal organs that he no more cursed.



There was something curious in this little in-


tent pause of the lieutenant.  He was like a babe


which, having wept its fill, raises its eyes and


fixes upon a distant toy.  He was engrossed in


this contemplation, and the soft under lip quivered


from self-whispered words.



Some lazy and ignorant smoke curled slowly.


The men, hiding from the bullets, waited anx-


iously for it to lift and disclose the plight of the


regiment.



The silent ranks were suddenly thrilled by the


eager voice of the youthful lieutenant bawling


out: "Here they come!  Right onto us,


b'Gawd!"  His further words were lost in a roar


of wicked thunder from the men's rifles.



The youth's eyes had instantly turned in the


direction indicated by the awakened and agitated


lieutenant, and he had seen the haze of treachery


disclosing a body of soldiers of the enemy.  They


were so near that he could see their features.


There was a recognition as he looked at the types


of faces.  Also he perceived with dim amazement


that their uniforms were rather gay in effect,


being light gray, accented with a brilliant-hued


facing.  Too, the clothes seemed new.



These troops had apparently been going for-


ward with caution, their rifles held in readiness,


when the youthful lieutenant had discovered


them and their movement had been interrupted


by the volley from the blue regiment.  From the


moment's glimpse, it was derived that they had


been unaware of the proximity of their dark-


suited foes or had mistaken the direction.  Al-


most instantly they were shut utterly from the


youth's sight by the smoke from the energetic


rifles of his companions.  He strained his vision


to learn the accomplishment of the volley, but the


smoke hung before him.



The two bodies of troops exchanged blows in


the manner of a pair of boxers.  The fast angry


firings went back and forth.  The men in blue


were intent with the despair of their circum-


stances and they seized upon the revenge to be


had at close range.  Their thunder swelled loud


and valiant.  Their curving front bristled with


flashes and the place resounded with the clangor


of their ramrods.  The youth ducked and dodged


for a time and achieved a few unsatisfactory


views of the enemy.  There appeared to be many


of them and they were replying swiftly.  They


seemed moving toward the blue regiment, step


by step.  He seated himself gloomily on the


ground with his flag between his knees.



As he noted the vicious, wolflike temper of


his comrades he had a sweet thought that if the


enemy was about to swallow the regimental


broom as a large prisoner, it could at least have


the consolation of going down with bristles for-


ward.



But the blows of the antagonist began to


grow more weak.  Fewer bullets ripped the air,


and finally, when the men slackened to learn of


the fight, they could see only dark, floating


smoke.  The regiment lay still and gazed.  Pres-


ently some chance whim came to the pestering


blur, and it began to coil heavily away.  The men


saw a ground vacant of fighters.  It would have


been an empty stage if it were not for a few


corpses that lay thrown and twisted into fantastic


shapes upon the sward.



At sight of this tableau, many of the men in


blue sprang from behind their covers and made


an ungainly dance of joy.  Their eyes burned


and a hoarse cheer of elation broke from their


dry lips.



It had begun to seem to them that events were


trying to prove that they were impotent.  These


little battles had evidently endeavored to demon-


strate that the men could not fight well.  When


on the verge of submission to these opinions, the


small duel had showed them that the propor-


tions were not impossible, and by it they had


revenged themselves upon their misgivings and


upon the foe.



The impetus of enthusiasm was theirs again.


They gazed about them with looks of uplifted


pride, feeling new trust in the grim, always


confident weapons in their hands.  And they


were men.



 


 


 


CHAPTER XXI.



 


PRESENTLY they knew that no firing threat-


ened them.  All ways seemed once more opened


to them.  The dusty blue lines of their friends


were disclosed a short distance away.  In the


distance there were many colossal noises, but in


all this part of the field there was a sudden


stillness.



They perceived that they were free.  The


depleted band drew a long breath of relief


and gathered itself into a bunch to complete


its trip.



In this last length of journey the men began


to show strange emotions.  They hurried with


nervous fear.  Some who had been dark and un-


faltering in the grimmest moments now could not


conceal an anxiety that made them frantic.  It


was perhaps that they dreaded to be killed in


insignificant ways after the times for proper


military deaths had passed.  Or, perhaps, they


thought it would be too ironical to get killed at



199


the portals of safety.  With backward looks of


perturbation, they hastened.



As they approached their own lines there was


some sarcasm exhibited on the part of a gaunt


and bronzed regiment that lay resting in the


shade of trees.  Questions were wafted to them.



"Where th' hell yeh been?"



"What yeh comin' back fer?"



"Why didn't yeh stay there?"



"Was it warm out there, sonny?"



"Goin' home now, boys?"



One shouted in taunting mimicry: "Oh,


mother, come quick an' look at th' sojers!"



There was no reply from the bruised and bat-


tered regiment, save that one man made broad-


cast challenges to fist fights and the red-bearded


officer walked rather near and glared in great


swashbuckler style at a tall captain in the other


regiment.  But the lieutenant suppressed the


man who wished to fist fight, and the tall cap-


tain, flushing at the little fanfare of the red-


bearded one, was obliged to look intently at some


trees.



The youth's tender flesh was deeply stung by


these remarks.  From under his creased brows


he glowered with hate at the mockers.  He


meditated upon a few revenges.  Still, many in


the regiment hung their heads in criminal fashion,


so that it came to pass that the men trudged with


sudden heaviness, as if they bore upon their


bended shoulders the coffin of their honor.  And


the youthful lieutenant, recollecting himself, be-


gan to mutter softly in black curses.



They turned when they arrived at their old


position to regard the ground over which they


had charged.



The youth in this contemplation was smitten


with a large astonishment.  He discovered that


the distances, as compared with the brilliant


measurings of his mind, were trivial and ridicu-


lous.  The stolid trees, where much had taken


place, seemed incredibly near.  The time, too,


now that he reflected, he saw to have been short.


He wondered at the number of emotions and


events that had been crowded into such little


spaces.  Elfin thoughts must have exaggerated


and enlarged everything, he said.



It seemed, then, that there was bitter justice


in the speeches of the gaunt and bronzed vet-


erans.  He veiled a glance of disdain at his fel-


lows who strewed the ground, choking with dust,


red from perspiration, misty-eyed, disheveled.



They were gulping at their canteens, fierce to


wring every mite of water from them, and they


polished at their swollen and watery features


with coat sleeves and bunches of grass.



However, to the youth there was a consider-


able joy in musing upon his performances during


the charge.  He had had very little time pre-


viously in which to appreciate himself, so that


there was now much satisfaction in quietly think-


ing of his actions.  He recalled bits of color that


in the flurry had stamped themselves unawares


upon his engaged senses.



As the regiment lay heaving from its hot exer-


tions the officer who had named them as mule


drivers came galloping along the line.  He had


lost his cap.  His tousled hair streamed wildly,


and his face was dark with vexation and wrath.


His temper was displayed with more clearness


by the way in which he managed his horse.  He


jerked and wrenched savagely at his bridle, stop-


ping the hard-breathing animal with a furious


pull near the colonel of the regiment.  He im-


mediately exploded in reproaches which came


unbidden to the ears of the men.  They were


suddenly alert, being always curious about black


words between officers.



"Oh, thunder, MacChesnay, what an awful


bull you made of this thing!" began the officer.


He attempted low tones, but his indignation


caused certain of the men to learn the sense of


his words.  "What an awful mess you made!


Good Lord, man, you stopped about a hun-


dred feet this side of a very pretty success!  If


your men had gone a hundred feet farther you


would have made a great charge, but as it is


--what a lot of mud diggers you've got any-


way!"



The men, listening with bated breath, now


turned their curious eyes upon the colonel.


They had a ragamuffin interest in this affair.



The colonel was seen to straighten his form


and put one hand forth in oratorical fashion.


He wore an injured air; it was as if a deacon


had been accused of stealing.  The men were


wiggling in an ecstasy of excitement.



But of a sudden the colonel's manner changed


from that of a deacon to that of a Frenchman.


He shrugged his shoulders.  "Oh, well, general,


we went as far as we could," he said calmly.



"As far as you could?  Did you, b'Gawd?"


snorted the other.  "Well, that wasn't very far,


was it?" he added, with a glance of cold con-


tempt into the other's eyes.  "Not very far, I


think.  You were intended to make a diversion


in favor of Whiterside.  How well you succeeded


your own ears can now tell you."  He wheeled


his horse and rode stiffly away.



The colonel, bidden to hear the jarring noises


of an engagement in the woods to the left, broke


out in vague damnations.



The lieutenant, who had listened with an air


of impotent rage to the interview, spoke suddenly


in firm and undaunted tones.  "I don't care what


a man is--whether he is a general or what--if


he says th' boys didn't put up a good fight out


there he's a damned fool."



"Lieutenant," began the colonel, severely,


"this is my own affair, and I'll trouble you--"



The lieutenant made an obedient gesture.


"All right, colonel, all right," he said.  He sat


down with an air of being content with him-


self.



The news that the regiment had been re-


proached went along the line.  For a time the


men were bewildered by it.  "Good thunder!"


they ejaculated, staring at the vanishing form of


the general.  They conceived it to be a huge


mistake.



Presently, however, they began to believe that


in truth their efforts had been called light.  The


youth could see this conviction weigh upon the


entire regiment until the men were like cuffed


and cursed animals, but withal rebellious.



The friend, with a grievance in his eye,


went to the youth.  "I wonder what he does


want," he said.  "He must think we went out


there an' played marbles!  I never see sech a


man!"



The youth developed a tranquil philosophy


for these moments of irritation.  "Oh, well," he


rejoined, "he probably didn't see nothing of it at


all and got mad as blazes, and concluded we were


a lot of sheep, just because we didn't do what he


wanted done.  It's a pity old Grandpa Hender-


son got killed yestirday--he'd have known that


we did our best and fought good.  It's just our


awful luck, that's what."



"I should say so," replied the friend.  He


seemed to be deeply wounded at an injustice.


"I should say we did have awful luck!  There's


no fun in fightin' fer people when everything


yeh do--no matter what--ain't done right.  I


have a notion t' stay behind next time an' let


'em take their ol' charge an' go t' th' devil


with it."



The youth spoke soothingly to his comrade.


"Well, we both did good.  I'd like to see the


fool what'd say we both didn't do as good as we


could!"



"Of course we did," declared the friend


stoutly.  "An' I'd break th' feller's neck if he was


as big as a church.  But we're all right, anyhow,


for I heard one feller say that we two fit th' best


in th' reg'ment, an' they had a great argument


'bout it.  Another feller, 'a course, he had t' up


an' say it was a lie--he seen all what was goin'


on an' he never seen us from th' beginnin' t' th'


end.  An' a lot more struck in an' ses it wasn't


a lie--we did fight like thunder, an' they give


us quite a send-off.  But this is what I can't


stand--these everlastin' ol' soldiers, titterin' an'


laughin', an' then that general, he's crazy."



The youth exclaimed with sudden exaspera-


tion: "He's a lunkhead!  He makes me mad.


I wish he'd come along next time.  We'd show


'im what--"



He ceased because several men had come


hurrying up.  Their faces expressed a bringing


of great news.



"O Flem, yeh jest oughta heard!" cried one,


eagerly.



"Heard what?" said the youth.



"Yeh jest oughta heard!" repeated the other,


and he arranged himself to tell his tidings.  The


others made an excited circle.  "Well, sir, th'


colonel met your lieutenant right by us--it was


damnedest thing I ever heard--an' he ses: 'Ahem!


ahem!' he ses.  'Mr. Hasbrouck!' he ses, 'by


th' way, who was that lad what carried th' flag?'


he ses.  There, Flemin', what d' yeh think 'a


that?  'Who was th' lad what carried th' flag?'


he ses, an' th' lieutenant, he speaks up right


away: 'That's Flemin', an' he's a jimhickey,' he


ses, right away.  What?  I say he did.  'A jim-


hickey,' he ses--those 'r his words.  He did, too.


I say he did.  If you kin tell this story better


than I kin, go ahead an' tell it.  Well, then, keep


yer mouth shet.  Th' lieutenant, he ses: 'He's a


jimhickey,' an' th' colonel, he ses: 'Ahem! ahem!


he is, indeed, a very good man t' have, ahem!  He


kep' th' flag 'way t' th' front.  I saw 'im.  He's a


good un,' ses th' colonel.  'You bet,' ses th' lieu-


tenant, 'he an' a feller named Wilson was at th'


head 'a th' charge, an' howlin' like Indians all th'


time,' he ses.  'Head 'a th' charge all th' time,'


he ses.  'A feller named Wilson,' he ses.  There,


Wilson, m'boy, put that in a letter an' send it


hum t' yer mother, hay?  'A feller named Wil-


son,' he ses.  An' th' colonel, he ses: 'Were they,


indeed?  Ahem! ahem!  My sakes!' he ses.  'At


th' head 'a th' reg'ment?' he ses.  'They were,'


ses th' lieutenant.  'My sakes!' ses th' colonel.


He ses: 'Well, well, well,' he ses, 'those two


babies?'  'They were,' ses th' lieutenant.


'Well, well,' ses th' colonel, 'they deserve t' be


major generals,' he ses.  'They deserve t' be


major-generals.'



The youth and his friend had said: "Huh!"


"Yer lyin', Thompson."  "Oh, go t' blazes!"


"He never sed it."  "Oh, what a lie!"  "Huh!"


But despite these youthful scoffings and embar-


rassments, they knew that their faces were deeply


flushing from thrills of pleasure.  They ex-


changed a secret glance of joy and congratula-


tion.



They speedily forgot many things.  The past


held no pictures of error and disappointment.


They were very happy, and their hearts swelled


with grateful affection for the colonel and the


youthful lieutenant.



 


 


 


CHAPTER XXII.



 


WHEN the woods again began to pour forth


the dark-hued masses of the enemy the youth felt


serene self-confidence.  He smiled briefly when


he saw men dodge and duck at the long screech-


ings of shells that were thrown in giant handfuls


over them.  He stood, erect and tranquil, watch-


ing the attack begin against a part of the line


that made a blue curve along the side of an adja-


cent hill.  His vision being unmolested by smoke


from the rifles of his companions, he had oppor-


tunities to see parts of the hard fight.  It was a


relief to perceive at last from whence came some


of these noises which had been roared into his


ears.



Off a short way he saw two regiments fight-


ing a little separate battle with two other regi-


ments.  It was in a cleared space, wearing a set-


apart look.  They were blazing as if upon a


wager, giving and taking tremendous blows.


The firings were incredibly fierce and rapid.



209


These intent regiments apparently were oblivious


of all larger purposes of war, and were slugging


each other as if at a matched game.



In another direction he saw a magnificent


brigade going with the evident intention of driv-


ing the enemy from a wood.  They passed in out


of sight and presently there was a most awe-in-


spiring racket in the wood.  The noise was un-


speakable.  Having stirred this prodigious up-


roar, and, apparently, finding it too prodigious,


the brigade, after a little time, came marching


airily out again with its fine formation in nowise


disturbed.  There were no traces of speed in its


movements.  The brigade was jaunty and seemed


to point a proud thumb at the yelling wood.



On a slope to the left there was a long row of


guns, gruff and maddened, denouncing the


enemy, who, down through the woods, were


forming for another attack in the pitiless mo-


notony of conflicts.  The round red discharges


from the guns made a crimson flare and a high,


thick smoke.  Occasional glimpses could be


caught of groups of the toiling artillerymen.  In


the rear of this row of guns stood a house, calm


and white, amid bursting shells.  A congregation


of horses, tied to a long railing, were tugging


frenziedly at their bridles.  Men were running


hither and thither.



The detached battle between the four regi-


ments lasted for some time.  There chanced to


be no interference, and they settled their dispute


by themselves.  They struck savagely and pow-


erfully at each other for a period of minutes, and


then the lighter-hued regiments faltered and


drew back, leaving the dark-blue lines shouting.


The youth could see the two flags shaking with


laughter amid the smoke remnants.



Presently there was a stillness, pregnant with


meaning.  The blue lines shifted and changed a


trifle and stared expectantly at the silent woods


and fields before them.  The hush was solemn


and churchlike, save for a distant battery that,


evidently unable to remain quiet, sent a faint


rolling thunder over the ground.  It irritated,


like the noises of unimpressed boys.  The men


imagined that it would prevent their perched


ears from hearing the first words of the new


battle.



Of a sudden the guns on the slope roared out


a message of warning.  A spluttering sound had


begun in the woods.  It swelled with amazing


speed to a profound clamor that involved the


earth in noises.  The splitting crashes swept


along the lines until an interminable roar was


developed.  To those in the midst of it it became


a din fitted to the universe.  It was the whirring


and thumping of gigantic machinery, complica-


tions among the smaller stars.  The youth's ears


were filled up.  They were incapable of hearing


more.



On an incline over which a road wound he


saw wild and desperate rushes of men perpet-


ually backward and forward in riotous surges.


These parts of the opposing armies were two


long waves that pitched upon each other madly


at dictated points.  To and fro they swelled.


Sometimes, one side by its yells and cheers would


proclaim decisive blows, but a moment later


the other side would be all yells and cheers.


Once the youth saw a spray of light forms go in


houndlike leaps toward the waving blue lines.


There was much howling, and presently it went


away with a vast mouthful of prisoners.  Again,


he saw a blue wave dash with such thunderous


force against a gray obstruction that it seemed to


clear the earth of it and leave nothing but


trampled sod.  And always in their swift and


deadly rushes to and fro the men screamed


and yelled like maniacs.



Particular pieces of fence or secure positions


behind collections of trees were wrangled over,


as gold thrones or pearl bedsteads.  There were


desperate lunges at these chosen spots seemingly


every instant, and most of them were bandied like


light toys between the contending forces.  The


youth could not tell from the battle flags flying


like crimson foam in many directions which color


of cloth was winning.



His emaciated regiment bustled forth with


undiminished fierceness when its time came.


When assaulted again by bullets, the men burst


out in a barbaric cry of rage and pain.  They


bent their heads in aims of intent hatred


behind the projected hammers of their guns.


Their ramrods clanged loud with fury as their


eager arms pounded the cartridges into the rifle


barrels.  The front of the regiment was a smoke-


wall penetrated by the flashing points of yellow


and red.



Wallowing in the fight, they were in an


astonishingly short time resmudged.  They


surpassed in stain and dirt all their previous ap-


pearances.  Moving to and fro with strained


exertion, jabbering the while, they were, with


their swaying bodies, black faces, and glowing


eyes, like strange and ugly friends jigging heavily


in the smoke.



The lieutenant, returning from a tour after a


bandage, produced from a hidden receptacle of


his mind new and portentous oaths suited to the


emergency.  Strings of expletives he swung


lashlike over the backs of his men, and it was


evident that his previous efforts had in nowise


impaired his resources.



The youth, still the bearer of the colors, did


not feel his idleness.  He was deeply absorbed as


a spectator.  The crash and swing of the great


drama made him lean forward, intent-eyed, his


face working in small contortions.  Sometimes he


prattled, words coming unconsciously from him


in grotesque exclamations.  He did not know


that he breathed; that the flag hung silently over


him, so absorbed was he.



A formidable line of the enemy came within


dangerous range.  They could be seen plainly--


tall, gaunt men with excited faces running with


long strides toward a wandering fence.



At sight of this danger the men suddenly


ceased their cursing monotone.  There was an


instant of strained silence before they threw up


their rifles and fired a plumping volley at the


foes.  There had been no order given; the men,


upon recognizing the menace, had immedi-


ately let drive their flock of bullets without wait-


ing for word of command.



But the enemy were quick to gain the protec-


tion of the wandering line of fence.  They slid down


behind it with remarkable celerity, and from this


position they began briskly to slice up the blue men.



These latter braced their energies for a great


struggle.  Often, white clinched teeth shone


from the dusky faces.  Many heads surged to


and fro, floating upon a pale sea of smoke.


Those behind the fence frequently shouted and


yelped in taunts and gibelike cries, but the regi-


ment maintained a stressed silence.  Perhaps, at


this new assault the men recalled the fact that


they had been named mud diggers, and it made


their situation thrice bitter.  They were breath-


lessly intent upon keeping the ground and thrust-


ing away the rejoicing body of the enemy.  They


fought swiftly and with a despairing savageness


denoted in their expressions.



The youth had resolved not to budge what-


ever should happen.  Some arrows of scorn that


had buried themselves in his heart had generated


strange and unspeakable hatred.  It was clear


to him that his final and absolute revenge was to


be achieved by his dead body lying, torn and


gluttering, upon the field.  This was to be a


poignant retaliation upon the officer who had


said "mule drivers," and later "mud diggers,"


for in all the wild graspings of his mind for a


unit responsible for his sufferings and commo-


tions he always seized upon the man who had


dubbed him wrongly.  And it was his idea,


vaguely formulated, that his corpse would be for


those eyes a great and salt reproach.



The regiment bled extravagantly.  Grunting


bundles of blue began to drop.  The orderly


sergeant of the youth's company was shot through


the cheeks.  Its supports being injured, his jaw


hung afar down, disclosing in the wide cavern of


his mouth a pulsing mass of blood and teeth.


And with it all he made attempts to cry out.


In his endeavor there was a dreadful earnestness,


as if he conceived that one great shriek would


make him well.



The youth saw him presently go rearward.


His strength seemed in nowise impaired.  He


ran swiftly, casting wild glances for succor.



Others fell down about the feet of their com-


panions.  Some of the wounded crawled out and


away, but many lay still, their bodies twisted into


impossible shapes.



The youth looked once for his friend.  He


saw a vehement young man, powder-smeared and


frowzled, whom he knew to be him.  The lieu-


tenant, also, was unscathed in his position at the


rear.  He had continued to curse, but it was now


with the air of a man who was using his last box


of oaths.



For the fire of the regiment had begun to


wane and drip.  The robust voice, that had come


strangely from the thin ranks, was growing


rapidly weak.



 


 


 


CHAPTER XXIII.



 


THE colonel came running along back of the


line.  There were other officers following him.


"We must charge'm!" they shouted.  "We must


charge'm!" they cried with resentful voices, as


if anticipating a rebellion against this plan by the


men.



The youth, upon hearing the shouts, began to


study the distance between him and the enemy.


He made vague calculations.  He saw that to be


firm soldiers they must go forward.  It would be


death to stay in the present place, and with all


the circumstances to go backward would exalt


too many others.  Their hope was to push the


galling foes away from the fence.



He expected that his companions, weary and


stiffened, would have to be driven to this assault,


but as he turned toward them he perceived with


a certain surprise that they were giving quick


and unqualified expressions of assent.  There was


an ominous, clanging overture to the charge



217


when the shafts of the bayonets rattled upon the


rifle barrels.  At the yelled words of command


the soldiers sprang forward in eager leaps.


There was new and unexpected force in the


movement of the regiment.  A knowledge of its


faded and jaded condition made the charge ap-


pear like a paroxysm, a display of the strength


that comes before a final feebleness.  The men


scampered in insane fever of haste, racing as if to


achieve a sudden success before an exhilarating


fluid should leave them.  It was a blind and de-


spairing rush by the collection of men in dusty


and tattered blue, over a green sward and under


a sapphire sky, toward a fence, dimly outlined in


smoke, from behind which spluttered the fierce


rifles of enemies.



The youth kept the bright colors to the front.


He was waving his free arm in furious circles,


the while shrieking mad calls and appeals, urging


on those that did not need to be urged, for it


seemed that the mob of blue men hurling them-


selves on the dangerous group of rifles were


again grown suddenly wild with an enthusiasm of


unselfishness.  From the many firings starting


toward them, it looked as if they would merely


succeed in making a great sprinkling of corpses


on the grass between their former position and


the fence.  But they were in a state of frenzy,


perhaps because of forgotten vanities, and it made


an exhibition of sublime recklessness.  There was


no obvious questioning, nor figurings, nor dia-


grams.  There was, apparently, no considered


loopholes.  It appeared that the swift wings of


their desires would have shattered against the


iron gates of the impossible.



He himself felt the daring spirit of a savage


religion mad.  He was capable of profound sacri-


fices, a tremendous death.  He had no time for


dissections, but he knew that he thought of the


bullets only as things that could prevent him


from reaching the place of his endeavor.  There


were subtle flashings of joy within him that thus


should be his mind.



He strained all his strength.  His eyesight


was shaken and dazzled by the tension of thought


and muscle.  He did not see anything excepting


the mist of smoke gashed by the little knives of


fire, but he knew that in it lay the aged fence of a


vanished farmer protecting the snuggled bodies


of the gray men.



As he ran a thought of the shock of contact


gleamed in his mind.  He expected a great con-


cussion when the two bodies of troops crashed


together.  This became a part of his wild battle


madness.  He could feel the onward swing of the


regiment about him and he conceived of a thun-


derous, crushing blow that would prostrate the


resistance and spread consternation and amaze-


ment for miles.  The flying regiment was going


to have a catapultian effect.  This dream made


him run faster among his comrades, who were


giving vent to hoarse and frantic cheers.



But presently he could see that many of the


men in gray did not intend to abide the blow.


The smoke, rolling, disclosed men who ran, their


faces still turned.  These grew to a crowd, who


retired stubbornly.  Individuals wheeled fre-


quently to send a bullet at the blue wave.



But at one part of the line there was a grim


and obdurate group that made no movement.


They were settled firmly down behind posts and


rails.  A flag, ruffled and fierce, waved over them


and their rifles dinned fiercely.



The blue whirl of men got very near, until


it seemed that in truth there would be a close


and frightful scuffle.  There was an expressed


disdain in the opposition of the little group,


that changed the meaning of the cheers of the


men in blue.  They became yells of wrath,


directed, personal.  The cries of the two parties


were now in sound an interchange of scathing


insults.



They in blue showed their teeth; their eyes


shone all white.  They launched themselves as at


the throats of those who stood resisting.  The


space between dwindled to an insignificant dis-


tance.



The youth had centered the gaze of his soul


upon that other flag.  Its possession would be


high pride.  It would express bloody minglings,


near blows.  He had a gigantic hatred for those


who made great difficulties and complications.


They caused it to be as a craved treasure of my-


thology, hung amid tasks and contrivances of


danger.



He plunged like a mad horse at it.  He was


resolved it should not escape if wild blows and


darings of blows could seize it.  His own em-


blem, quivering and aflare, was winging toward


the other.  It seemed there would shortly be


an encounter of strange beaks and claws, as of


eagles.



The swirling body of blue men came to a


sudden halt at close and disastrous range and


roared a swift volley.  The group in gray was


split and broken by this fire, but its riddled body


still fought.  The men in blue yelled again and


rushed in upon it.



The youth, in his leapings, saw, as through a


mist, a picture of four or five men stretched upon


the ground or writhing upon their knees with


bowed heads as if they had been stricken by bolts


from the sky.  Tottering among them was the


rival color bearer, whom the youth saw had been


bitten vitally by the bullets of the last formidable


volley.  He perceived this man fighting a last


struggle, the struggle of one whose legs are


grasped by demons.  It was a ghastly battle.


Over his face was the bleach of death, but set


upon it was the dark and hard lines of desperate


purpose.  With this terrible grin of resolution he


hugged his precious flag to him and was stum-


bling and staggering in his design to go the way


that led to safety for it.



But his wounds always made it seem that his


feet were retarded, held, and he fought a grim


fight, as with invisible ghouls fastened greedily


upon his limbs.  Those in advance of the scam-


pering blue men, howling cheers, leaped at the


fence.  The despair of the lost was in his eyes as


he glanced back at them.



The youth's friend went over the obstruction


in a tumbling heap and sprang at the flag as a


panther at prey.  He pulled at it and, wrench-


ing it free, swung up its red brilliancy with a


mad cry of exultation even as the color bearer,


gasping, lurched over in a final throe and, stiff-


ening convulsively, turned his dead face to the


ground.  There was much blood upon the grass


blades.



At the place of success there began more wild


clamorings of cheers.  The men gesticulated and


bellowed in an ecstasy.  When they spoke it was


as if they considered their listener to be a mile


away.  What hats and caps were left to them


they often slung high in the air.



At one part of the line four men had been


swooped upon, and they now sat as prisoners.


Some blue men were about them in an eager and


curious circle.  The soldiers had trapped strange


birds, and there was an examination.  A flurry of


fast questions was in the air.



One of the prisoners was nursing a superficial


wound in the foot.  He cuddled it, baby-wise,


but he looked up from it often to curse with an


astonishing utter abandon straight at the noses of


his captors.  He consigned them to red regions;


he called upon the pestilential wrath of strange


gods.  And with it all he was singularly free


from recognition of the finer points of the con-


duct of prisoners of war.  It was as if a clumsy


clod had trod upon his toe and he conceived it to


be his privilege, his duty, to use deep, resentful


oaths.



Another, who was a boy in years, took his


plight with great calmness and apparent good


nature.  He conversed with the men in blue,


studying their faces with his bright and keen


eyes.  They spoke of battles and conditions.


There was an acute interest in all their faces dur-


ing this exchange of view points.  It seemed a


great satisfaction to hear voices from where all


had been darkness and speculation.



The third captive sat with a morose counte-


nance.  He preserved a stoical and cold attitude.


To all advances he made one reply without varia-


tion, "Ah, go t' hell!"



The last of the four was always silent and,


for the most part, kept his face turned in un-


molested directions.  From the views the youth


received he seemed to be in a state of absolute


dejection.  Shame was upon him, and with it


profound regret that he was, perhaps, no more


to be counted in the ranks of his fellows.  The


youth could detect no expression that would


allow him to believe that the other was giving


a thought to his narrowed future, the pictured


dungeons, perhaps, and starvations and brutali-


ties, liable to the imagination.  All to be seen


was shame for captivity and regret for the right


to antagonize.



After the men had celebrated sufficiently they


settled down behind the old rail fence, on the


opposite side to the one from which their foes


had been driven.  A few shot perfunctorily at


distant marks.



There was some long grass.  The youth


nestled in it and rested, making a convenient rail


support the flag.  His friend, jubilant and glori-


fied, holding his treasure with vanity, came to


him there.  They sat side by side and congratu-


lated each other.



 


 


 


CHAPTER XXIV.



 


THE roarings that had stretched in a long line


of sound across the face of the forest began to


grow intermittent and weaker.  The stentorian


speeches of the artillery continued in some dis-


tant encounter, but the crashes of the musketry


had almost ceased.  The youth and his friend of


a sudden looked up, feeling a deadened form of


distress at the waning of these noises, which had


become a part of life.  They could see changes


going on among the troops.  There were march-


ings this way and that way.  A battery wheeled


leisurely.  On the crest of a small hill was the


thick gleam of many departing muskets.



The youth arose.  "Well, what now, I won-


der?" he said.  By his tone he seemed to be


preparing to resent some new monstrosity in


the way of dins and smashes.  He shaded his


eyes with his grimy hand and gazed over the


field.



His friend also arose and stared.  "I bet



226


we're goin' t' git along out of this an' back over


th' river," said he.



"Well, I swan!" said the youth.



They waited, watching.  Within a little while


the regiment received orders to retrace its way.


The men got up grunting from the grass, regret-


ting the soft repose.  They jerked their stiffened


legs, and stretched their arms over their heads.


One man swore as he rubbed his eyes.  They all


groaned "O Lord!"  They had as many objec-


tions to this change as they would have had to a


proposal for a new battle.



They trampled slowly back over the field


across which they had run in a mad scamper.



The regiment marched until it had joined its


fellows.  The reformed brigade, in column, aimed


through a wood at the road.  Directly they were


in a mass of dust-covered troops, and were


trudging along in a way parallel to the enemy's


lines as these had been defined by the previous


turmoil.



They passed within view of a stolid white


house, and saw in front of it groups of their com-


rades lying in wait behind a neat breastwork.  A


row of guns were booming at a distant enemy.


Shells thrown in reply were raising clouds of


dust and splinters.  Horsemen dashed along the


line of intrenchments.



At this point of its march the division curved


away from the field and went winding off in the


direction of the river.  When the significance of


this movement had impressed itself upon the


youth he turned his head and looked over his


shoulder toward the trampled and debris-strewed


ground.  He breathed a breath of new satisfac-


tion.  He finally nudged his friend.  "Well, it's


all over," he said to him.



His friend gazed backward.  "B'Gawd, it


is," he assented.  They mused.



For a time the youth was obliged to reflect


in a puzzled and uncertain way.  His mind was


undergoing a subtle change.  It took moments


for it to cast off its battleful ways and resume


its accustomed course of thought.  Gradually his


brain emerged from the clogged clouds, and at


last he was enabled to more closely compre-


hend himself and circumstance.



He understood then that the existence of shot


and counter-shot was in the past.  He had dwelt


in a land of strange, squalling upheavals and had


come forth.  He had been where there was red


of blood and black of passion, and he was es-


caped.  His first thoughts were given to rejoic-


ings at this fact.



Later he began to study his deeds, his fail-


ures, and his achievements.  Thus, fresh from


scenes where many of his usual machines of re-


flection had been idle, from where he had pro-


ceeded sheeplike, he struggled to marshal all his


acts.



At last they marched before him clearly.


From this present view point he was enabled


to look upon them in spectator fashion and


to criticise them with some correctness, for his


new condition had already defeated certain sym-


pathies.



Regarding his procession of memory he felt


gleeful and unregretting, for in it his public deeds


were paraded in great and shining prominence.


Those performances which had been witnessed


by his fellows marched now in wide purple and


gold, having various deflections.  They went


gayly with music.  It was pleasure to watch these


things.  He spent delightful minutes viewing the


gilded images of memory.



He saw that he was good.  He recalled with


a thrill of joy the respectful comments of his fel-


lows upon his conduct.



Nevertheless, the ghost of his flight from


the first engagement appeared to him and


danced.  There were small shoutings in his


brain about these matters.  For a moment he


blushed, and the light of his soul flickered with


shame.



A specter of reproach came to him.  There


loomed the dogging memory of the tattered


soldier--he who, gored by bullets and faint for


blood, had fretted concerning an imagined wound


in another; he who had loaned his last of strength


and intellect for the tall soldier; he who, blind


with weariness and pain, had been deserted in


the field.



For an instant a wretched chill of sweat was


upon him at the thought that he might be


detected in the thing.  As he stood persistently


before his vision, he gave vent to a cry of sharp


irritation and agony.



His friend turned.  "What's the matter,


Henry?" he demanded.  The youth's reply was


an outburst of crimson oaths.



As he marched along the little branch-hung


roadway among his prattling companions this


vision of cruelty brooded over him.  It clung


near him always and darkened his view of these


deeds in purple and gold.  Whichever way his


thoughts turned they were followed by the


somber phantom of the desertion in the fields.


He looked stealthily at his companions, feeling


sure that they must discern in his face evidences


of this pursuit.  But they were plodding in


ragged array, discussing with quick tongues the


accomplishments of the late battle.



"Oh, if a man should come up an' ask me, I'd


say we got a dum good lickin'."



"Lickin'--in yer eye!  We ain't licked, sonny.


We're goin' down here aways, swing aroun', an'


come in behint 'em."



"Oh, hush, with your comin' in behint 'em.


I've seen all 'a that I wanta.  Don't tell me about


comin' in behint--"



"Bill Smithers, he ses he'd rather been in


ten hundred battles than been in that heluva


hospital.  He ses they got shootin' in th' night-


time, an' shells dropped plum among 'em in th'


hospital.  He ses sech hollerin' he never see."



"Hasbrouck?  He's th' best off'cer in this


here reg'ment.  He's a whale."



"Didn't I tell yeh we'd come aroun' in behint


'em?  Didn't I tell yeh so?  We--"



"Oh, shet yeh mouth!"



For a time this pursuing recollection of the


tattered man took all elation from the youth's


veins.  He saw his vivid error, and he was afraid


that it would stand before him all his life.  He


took no share in the chatter of his comrades, nor


did he look at them or know them, save when he


felt sudden suspicion that they were seeing his


thoughts and scrutinizing each detail of the scene


with the tattered soldier.



Yet gradually he mustered force to put the sin


at a distance.  And at last his eyes seemed to


open to some new ways.  He found that he could


look back upon the brass and bombast of his


earlier gospels and see them truly.  He was


gleeful when he discovered that he now despised


them.



With this conviction came a store of assur-


ance.  He felt a quiet manhood, nonassertive but


of sturdy and strong blood.  He knew that he


would no more quail before his guides wher-


ever they should point.  He had been to touch


the great death, and found that, after all, it was


but the great death.  He was a man.



So it came to pass that as he trudged from


the place of blood and wrath his soul changed.


He came from hot plowshares to prospects of


clover tranquilly, and it was as if hot plowshares


were not.  Scars faded as flowers.



It rained.  The procession of weary soldiers


became a bedraggled train, despondent and


muttering, marching with churning effort in a


trough of liquid brown mud under a low,


wretched sky.  Yet the youth smiled, for he saw


that the world was a world for him, though many


discovered it to be made of oaths and walking


sticks.  He had rid himself of the red sickness of


battle.  The sultry nightmare was in the past.


He had been an animal blistered and sweating in


the heat and pain of war.  He turned now with a


lover's thirst to images of tranquil skies, fresh


meadows, cool brooks--an existence of soft and


eternal peace.



Over the river a golden ray of sun came


through the hosts of leaden rain clouds.