****The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Red Badge of Courage****
#1a in our series by Stephen Crane
This is our second version of The Red Badge of Courage, you may
look at badge10.txt for the first, this is badge10a.txt
Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check
the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!
Please take a look at the important information in this header.
We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an
electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this.
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations*
Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and
further information is included below. We need your donations.
The Red Badge of Courage
by Stephen Crane
March, 1996 [Etext #463]
****The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Red Badge of Courage****
****This file should be named badge10a.txt or badge10a.zip*****
Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, badge11a.txt.
VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, badge10b.txt.
This etext was created by Judith Boss, Omaha, Nebraska.
We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance
of the official release dates, for time for better editing.
Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till
midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at
Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A
preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an
up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes
in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has
a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a
look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a
new copy has at least one byte more or less.
Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)
We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The
fifty hours is one conservative estimate for how long it we take
to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This
projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value
per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $4
million dollars per hour this year as we release some eight text
files per month: thus upping our productivity from $2 million.
The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext
Files by the December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion]
This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
which is 10% of the expected number of computer users by the end
of the year 2001.
We need your donations more than ever!
All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/IBC", and are
tax deductible to the extent allowable by law ("IBC" is Illinois
Benedictine College). (Subscriptions to our paper newsletter go
to IBC, too)
For these and other matters, please mail to:
Project Gutenberg
P. O. Box 2782
Champaign, IL 61825
When all other email fails try our Michael S. Hart, Executive
Director:
hart@vmd.cso.uiuc.edu (internet) hart@uiucvmd (bitnet)
We would prefer to send you this information by email
(Internet, Bitnet, Compuserve, ATTMAIL or MCImail).
******
If you have an FTP program (or emulator), please
FTP directly to the Project Gutenberg archives:
[Mac users, do NOT point and click. . .type]
ftp uiarchive.cso.uiuc.edu
login: anonymous
password: your@login
cd etext/etext90 through /etext96
or cd etext/articles [get suggest gut for more information]
dir [to see files]
get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files]
GET INDEX?00.GUT
for a list of books
and
GET NEW GUT for general information
and
MGET GUT* for newsletters.
**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor**
(Three Pages)
***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START***
Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers.
They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how
you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to.
*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT
By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive
a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by
sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical
medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.
ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS
This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-
tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor
Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at
Illinois Benedictine College (the "Project"). Among other
things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
distribute it in the United States without permission and
without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth
below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext
under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.
To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable
efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any
medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other
things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer
codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this
etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.
If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of
receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
time to the person you received it from. If you received it
on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
copy. If you received it electronically, such person may
choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
receive it electronically.
THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
PARTICULAR PURPOSE.
Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
may have other legal rights.
INDEMNITY
You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors,
officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost
and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or
indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause:
[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification,
or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect.
DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by
disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
or:
[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this
requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however,
if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable
binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
including any form resulting from conversion by word pro-
cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as
*EITHER*:
[*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
does *not* contain characters other than those
intended by the author of the work, although tilde
(~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
be used to convey punctuation intended by the
author, and additional characters may be used to
indicate hypertext links; OR
[*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at
no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
form by the program that displays the etext (as is
the case, for instance, with most word processors);
OR
[*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
or other equivalent proprietary form).
[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this
"Small Print!" statement.
[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the
net profits you derive calculated using the method you
already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you
don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are
payable to "Project Gutenberg Association / Illinois
Benedictine College" within the 60 days following each
date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare)
your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return.
WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time,
scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty
free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution
you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg
Association / Illinois Benedictine College".
*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*
Note: I have tried to retain the inconsistent renderings of
contractions as joined or separate, e.g., "we 'll" or "we'll."
I have made the following changes to the text:
PAGE PARA. LINE ORIGINAL CHANGED TO
18 3 3 estabiish establish
40 3 2 skirmish skirmish-
78 4 4 a air an air
130 2 recognzied recognized
130 4 12 could a' could 'a
139 2 4 not began not begun
193 2 16 illusions to allusions to
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.
End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Red Badge of Courage