The Red Badge of Courage

Stephen Crane (1871-1900)

An Episode of the American Civil War

Chapter 1

The cold passed reluctantly from the earth, and the retiring fogsrevealed an army stretched out on the hills, resting. As the landscapechanged from brown to green, the army awakened, and began to tremblewith eagerness at the noise of rumors. It cast its eyes upon theroads, which were growing from long troughs of liquid mud to properthoroughfares. A river, amber-tinted in the shadow of its banks, purled at the army's feet; and at night, when the stream had become ofa sorrowful blackness, one could see across it the red, eyelike gleamof hostile camp-fires set in the low brows of distant hills. 

Once a certain tall soldier developed virtues and went resolutely towash a shirt. He came flying back from a brook waving his garmentbannerlike. He was swelled with a tale he had heard from a reliablefriend, who had heard it from a truthful cavalryman, who had heard itfrom his trustworthy brother, one of the orderlies at divisionheadquarters. 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 inthe 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 verybrilliant campaign. When he had finished, the blue-clothed menscattered into small arguing groups between the rows of squat brownhuts. A negro teamster who had been dancing upon a cracker box withthe hilarious encouragement of twoscore soldiers was deserted. He satmournfully down. Smoke drifted lazily from a multitude of quaintchimneys. 

"It's a lie! that's all it is--a thunderin' lie!" said another privateloudly. His smooth face was flushed, and his hands were thrust sulkilyinto his trouser's 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'tmoved yet. "

The tall soldier felt called upon to defend the truth of a rumor hehimself had introduced. He and the loud one came near to fighting overit. 

A corporal began to swear before the assemblage. He had just put acostly board floor in his house, he said. During the early spring hehad refrained from adding extensively to the comfort of his environmentbecause he had felt that the army might start on the march at anymoment. Of late, however, he had been impressed that they were in asort of eternal camp. 

Many of the men engaged in a spirited debate. One outlined in apeculiarly lucid manner all the plans of the commanding general. Hewas opposed by men who advocated that there were other plans ofcampaign. They clamored at each other, numbers making futile bids forthe popular attention. Meanwhile, the soldier who had fetched therumor bustled about with much importance. He was continually assailedby 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 ahang. "

There was much food for thought in the manner in which he replied. Hecame near to convincing them by disdaining to produce proofs. Theygrew much excited over it. 

There was a youthful private who listened with eager ears to the wordsof the tall soldier and to the varied comments of his comrades. Afterreceiving a fill of discussions concerning marches and attacks, he wentto his hut and crawled through an intricate hole that served it as adoor. He wished to be alone with some new thoughts that had latelycome to him. 

He lay down on a wide bunk that stretched across the end of the room. In the other end, cracker boxes were made to serve as furniture. Theywere grouped about the fireplace. A picture from an illustrated weeklywas upon the log walls, and three rifles were paralleled on pegs. Equipments hung on handy projections, and some tin dishes lay upon asmall pile of firewood. A folded tent was serving as a roof. Thesunlight, without, beating upon it, made it glow a light yellow shade. A small window shot an oblique square of whiter light upon thecluttered floor. The smoke from the fire at times neglected the claychimney and wreathed into the room, and this flimsy chimney of clay andsticks made endless threats to set ablaze the whole establishment. 

The youth was in a little trance of astonishment. So they were at lastgoing to fight. On the morrow, perhaps, there would be a battle, andhe would be in it. For a time he was obliged to labor to make himselfbelieve. He could not accept with assurance an omen that he was aboutto mingle in one of those great affairs of the earth. 

He had, of course, dreamed of battles all his life--of vague and bloodyconflicts that had thrilled him with their sweep and fire. In visionshe had seen himself in many struggles. He had imagined peoples securein the shadow of his eagle-eyed prowess. But awake he had regardedbattles as crimson blotches on the pages of the past. He had put themas things of the bygone with his thought-images of heavy crowns andhigh castles. There was a portion of the world's history which he hadregarded as the time of wars, but it, he thought, had been long goneover the horizon and had disappeared forever. 

From his home his youthful eyes had looked upon the war in his owncountry with distrust. It must be some sort of a play affair. He hadlong despaired of witnessing a Greeklike struggle. Such would be nomore, he had said. Men were better, or more timid. Secular andreligious education had effaced the throat-grappling instinct, or elsefirm finance held in check the passions. 

He had burned several times to enlist. Tales of great movements shookthe land. They might not be distinctly Homeric, but there seemed to bemuch glory in them. He had read of marches, sieges, conflicts, and hehad longed to see it all. His busy mind had drawn for him largepictures extravagant in color, lurid with breathless deeds. 

But his mother had discouraged him. She had affected to look with somecontempt upon the quality of his war ardor and patriotism. She couldcalmly seat herself and with no apparent difficulty give him manyhundreds of reasons why he was of vastly more importance on the farmthan on the field of battle. She had had certain ways of expressionthat told him that her statements on the subject came from a deepconviction. Moreover, on her side, was his belief that her ethicalmotive in the argument was impregnable. 

At last, however, he had made firm rebellion against this yellow lightthrown upon the color of his ambitions. The newspapers, the gossip ofthe village, his own picturings, had aroused him to an uncheckabledegree. They were in truth fighting finely down there. Almost everyday the newspaper printed accounts of a decisive victory. 

One night, as he lay in bed, the winds had carried to him theclangoring of the church bell as some enthusiast jerked the ropefrantically to tell the twisted news of a great battle. This voice ofthe people rejoicing in the night had made him shiver in a prolongedecstasy of excitement. Later, he had gone down to his mother's roomand had spoken thus: "Ma, I'm going to enlist. "

"Henry, don't you be a fool, " his mother had replied. She had thencovered her face with the quilt. There was an end to the matter forthat night. 

Nevertheless, the next morning he had gone to a town that was near hismother's farm and had enlisted in a company that was forming there. When he had returned home his mother was milking the brindle cow. Fourothers stood waiting. "Ma, I've enlisted, " he had said to herdiffidently. There was a short silence. "The Lord's will be done, Henry, " she had finally replied, and had then continued to milk thebrindle cow. 

When he had stood in the doorway with his soldier's clothes on hisback, and with the light of excitement and expectancy in his eyesalmost defeating the glow of regret for the home bonds, he had seen twotears leaving their trails on his mother's scarred cheeks. 

Still, she had disappointed him by saying nothing whatever aboutreturning with his shield or on it. He had privately primed himselffor a beautiful scene. He had prepared certain sentences which hethought could be used with touching effect. But her words destroyedhis plans. She had doggedly peeled potatoes and addressed him asfollows: "You watch out, Henry, an' take good care of yerself in thishere fighting business--you watch, 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 ofothers, and yeh've got to keep quiet an' do what they tell yeh. I knowhow you are, Henry. 

"I've knet yeh eight pair of socks, Henry, and I've put in all yer bestshirts, because I want my boy to be jest as warm and comf'able asanybody in the army. Whenever they get holes in 'em, I want yeh tosend '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 menin the army, Henry. The army makes 'em wild, and they like nothingbetter than the job of leading off a young feller like you, as ain'tnever 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. Idon't want yeh to ever do anything, Henry, that yeh would be 'shamed tolet me know about. Jest think as if I was a-watchin' yeh. If yeh keepthat in yer mind allus, I guess yeh'll come out about right. 

"Yeh must allus remember yer father, too, child, an' remember he neverdrunk 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 mustnever do no shirking, child, on my account. If so be a time comes whenyeh have to be kilt of do a mean thing, why, Henry, don't think ofanything 'cept what's right, because there's many a woman has to bearup '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 cupof blackberry jam with yer bundle, because I know yeh like it above allthings. Good-by, Henry. Watch out, and be a good boy. "

He had, of course, been impatient under the ordeal of this speech. Ithad not been quite what he expected, and he had borne it with an air ofirritation. He departed feeling vague relief. 

Still, when he had looked back from the gate, he had seen his motherkneeling among the potato parings. Her brown face, upraised, wasstained with tears, and her spare form was quivering. He bowed hishead and went on, feeling suddenly ashamed of his purposes. 

From his home he had gone to the seminary to bid adieu to manyschoolmates. 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 overwhelmedwith privileges for all of one afternoon, and it had been a verydelicious thing. They had strutted. 

A certain light-haired girl had made vivacious fun at his martialspirit, but there was another and darker girl whom he had gazed atsteadfastly, and he thought she grew demure and sad at sight of hisblue and brass. As he had walked down the path between the rows ofoaks, he had turned his head and detected her at a window watching hisdeparture. As he perceived her, she had immediately begun to stare upthrough the high tree branches at the sky. He had seen a good deal offlurry and haste in her movement as she changed her attitude. He oftenthought of it. 

On the way to Washington his spirit had soared. The regiment was fedand caressed at station after station until the youth had believed thathe must be a hero. There was a lavish expenditure of bread and coldmeats, coffee, and pickles and cheese. As he basked in the smiles ofthe girls and was patted and complimented by the old men, he had feltgrowing within him the strength to do mighty deeds of arms. 

After complicated journeyings with many pauses, there had come monthsof monotonous life in a camp. He had had the belief that real war wasa series of death struggles with small time in between for sleep andmeals; but since his regiment had come to the field the army had donelittle but sit still and try to keep warm. 

He was brought then gradually back to his old ideas. Greeklikestruggles would be no more. Men were better, or more timid. Secularand religious education had effaced the throat-grappling instinct, orelse firm finance held in check the passions. 

He had grown to regard himself merely as a part of a vast bluedemonstration. His province was to look out, as far as he could, forhis personal comfort. For recreation he could twiddle his thumbs andspeculate on the thoughts which must agitate the minds of the generals. Also, he was drilled and drilled and reviewed, and drilled and drilledand reviewed. 

The only foes he had seen were some pickets along the river bank. Theywere a sun-tanned, philosophical lot, who sometimes shot reflectivelyat the blue pickets. When reproached for this afterward, they usuallyexpressed sorrow, and swore by their gods that the guns had explodedwithout their permission. The youth, on guard duty one night, conversed across the stream with one of them. He was a slightly raggedman, who spat skillfully between his shoes and possessed a great fundof bland and infantile assurance. The youth liked him personally. 

"Yank, " the other had informed him, "yer a right dum good feller. " Thissentiment, floating to him upon the still air, had made him temporarilyregret war. 

Various veterans had told him tales. Some talked of gray, bewhiskeredhordes who were advancing with relentless curses and chewing tobaccowith unspeakable valor; tremendous bodies of fierce soldiery who weresweeping along like the Huns. Others spoke of tattered and eternallyhungry men who fired despondent powders. "They'll charge throughhell's fire an' brimstone t' git a holt on a haversack, an' sechstomachs ain't a'lastin' long, " he was told. From the stories, theyouth imagined the red, live bones sticking out through slits in thefaded uniforms. 

Still, he could not put a whole faith in veteran's tales, for recruitswere their prey. They talked much of smoke, fire, and blood, but hecould not tell how much might be lies. They persistently yelled "Freshfish!" at him, and were in no wise to be trusted. 

However, he perceived now that it did not greatly matter what kind ofsoldiers he was going to fight, so long as they fought, which fact noone disputed. There was a more serious problem. He lay in his bunkpondering upon it. He tried to mathematically prove to himself that hewould not run from a battle. 

Previously he had never felt obliged to wrestle too seriously with thisquestion. In his life he had taken certain things for granted, neverchallenging his belief in ultimate success, and bothering little aboutmeans and roads. But here he was confronted with a thing of moment. It had suddenly 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 nothingof himself. 

A sufficient time before he would have allowed the problem to kick itsheels at the outer portals of his mind, but now he felt compelled togive serious attention to it. 

A little panic-fear grew in his mind. As his imagination went forwardto a fight, he saw hideous possibilities. He contemplated the lurkingmenaces of the future, and failed in an effort to see himself standingstoutly in the midst of them. He recalled his visions of broken-bladedglory, but in the shadow of the impending tumult he suspected them tobe impossible pictures. 

He sprang from the bunk and began to pace nervously to and fro. "GoodLord, what's th' matter with me?" he said aloud. 

He felt that in this crisis his laws of life were useless. Whatever hehad learned of himself was here of no avail. He was an unknownquantity. He saw that he would again be obliged to experiment as hehad in early youth. He must accumulate information of himself, andmeanwhile he resolved to remain close upon his guard lest thosequalities of which he knew nothing should everlastingly disgrace him. "Good Lord!" he repeated in dismay. 

After a time the tall soldier slid dexterously through the hole. Theloud private followed. They were wrangling. 

"That's all right, " said the tall soldier as he entered. He waved hishand expressively. "You can believe me or not, jest as you like. Allyou got to do is sit down and wait as quiet as you can. Then prettysoon you'll find out I was right. "

His comrade grunted stubbornly. For a moment he seemed to be searchingfor a formidable reply. Finally he said: "Well, you don't knoweverything in the world, do you?"

"Didn't say I knew everything in the world, " retorted the othersharply. 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 battlesever was. You jest wait. "

"Thunder!" said the youth. 

"Oh, you'll see fighting this time, my boy, what'll be regularout-and-out fighting, " added the tall soldier, with the air of a manwho 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 jestlike them others did. "

"Not much it won't, " replied the tall soldier, exasperated. "Not muchit won't. Didn't the cavalry all start this morning?" He glared abouthim. No one denied his statement. "The cavalry 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 theJohnnies. 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 tallsoldier. "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 judgment. He made a fine use of the thirdperson. "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 everyregiment, 'specially when they first goes under fire, " said the otherin a tolerant way. "Of course it might happen that the hullkit-and-boodle might start and run, if some big fighting camefirst-off, and then again they might stay and fight like fun. But youcan'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 thefirst time; but I think they'll fight better than some, if worse thanothers. 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 'llfight like sin after they oncet git shootin', " he added, with a mightyemphasis 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, inwhich they fastened upon each other various strange epithets. 

The youth at last interrupted them. "Did you ever think you might runyourself, Jim?" he asked. On concluding the sentence he laughed as ifhe had meant to aim a joke. The loud soldier also giggled. 

The tall private waved his hand. "Well, " said he profoundly, "I'vethought it might get too hot for Jim Conklin in some of themscrimmages, and if a whole lot of boys started and run, why, I s'poseI'd start and run. And if I once started to run, I'd run like thedevil, 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 great and correctconfidence. He now was in a measure reassured. 

Chapter 2

The next morning the youth discovered that his tall comrade had beenthe fast-flying messenger of a mistake. There was much scoffing at thelatter by those who had yesterday been firm adherents of his views, andthere was even a little sneering by men who had never believed therumor. The tall one fought with a man from Chatfield Corners and beathim severely. 

The youth felt, however, that his problem was in no wise lifted fromhim. There was, on the contrary, an irritating prolongation. The talehad created in him a great concern for himself. Now, with the newbornquestion in his mind, he was compelled to sink back into his old placeas part of a blue demonstration. 

For days he made ceaseless calculations, but they were all wondrouslyunsatisfactory. He found that he could establish nothing. He finallyconcluded that the only way to prove himself was to go into the blaze, and then figuratively to watch his legs to discover their merits andfaults. He reluctantly admitted that he could not sit still and with amental slate and pencil derive an answer. To gain it, he must haveblaze, blood, and danger, even as a chemist requires this, that, andthe 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 sereneunconcern dealt him a measure of confidence, for he had known him sincechildhood, and from his intimate knowledge he did not see how he couldbe capable of anything that was beyond him, the youth. Still, hethought that his comrade might be mistaken about himself. Or, on theother hand, he might be a man heretofore doomed to peace and obscurity, but, in reality, made to shine in war. 

The youth would have liked to have discovered another who suspectedhimself. A sympathetic comparison of mental notes would have been ajoy to him. 

He occasionally tried to fathom a comrade with seductive sentences. Helooked about to find men in the proper mood. All attempts failed tobring forth any statement which looked in any way like a confession tothose doubts which he privately acknowledged in himself. He was afraidto make an open declaration of his concern, because he dreaded to placesome unscrupulous confidant upon the high plane of the unconfessed fromwhich elevation he could be derided. 

In regard to his companions his mind wavered between two opinions, according to his mood. Sometimes he inclined to believing them allheroes. In fact, he usually admired in secret the superior developmentof the higher qualities in others. He could conceive of men going veryinsignificantly about the world bearing a load of courage unseen, andalthough he had known many of his comrades through boyhood, he began tofear that his judgment of them had been blind. Then, in other moments, he flouted these theories, and assured him that his fellows were allprivately wondering and quaking. 

His emotions made him feel strange in the presence of men who talkedexcitedly of a prospective battle as of a drama they were about towitness, with nothing but eagerness and curiosity apparent in theirfaces. It was often that he suspected 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 manyshameful crimes against the gods of traditions. 

In his great anxiety his heart was continually clamoring at what heconsidered the intolerable slowness of the generals. They seemedcontent to perch tranquilly on the river bank, and leave him bowed downby the weight of a great problem. He wanted it settled forthwith. Hecould not long bear such a load, he said. Sometimes his anger at thecommanders reached an acute stage, and he grumbled about the camp likea veteran. 

One morning, however, he found himself in the ranks of his preparedregiment. The men were whispering speculations and recounting the oldrumors. In the gloom before the break of the day their uniforms gloweda deep purple hue. From across the river the red eyes were stillpeering. In the eastern sky there was a yellow patch like a rug laidfor the feet of the coming 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 couldoccasionally see dark shadows that moved like monsters. The regimentstood at rest for what seemed a long time. The youth grew impatient. It was unendurable the way these affairs were managed. He wondered howlong they were to be kept waiting. 

As he looked all about him and pondered upon the mystic gloom, he beganto believe that at any moment the ominous distance might be aflare, andthe rolling crashes of an engagement come to his ears. Staring once atthe red eyes across the river, he conceived them to be growing larger, as the orbs of a row of dragons advancing. He turned toward thecolonel and saw him lift his gigantic arm and calmly stroke hismustache. 

At last he heard from along the road at the foot of the hill theclatter of a horse's galloping hoofs. It must be the coming of orders. He bent forward, scarce breathing. The exciting clickety-click, as itgrew louder and louder, seemed to be beating upon his soul. Presentlya horseman with jangling equipment drew rein before the colonel of theregiment. The two held a short, sharp-worded conversation. The men inthe foremost ranks craned their necks. 

As the horseman wheeled his animal and galloped away he turned to shoutover his shoulder, "Don't forget that box of cigars!" The colonelmumbled in reply. The youth wondered what a box of cigars had to dowith war. 

A moment later the regiment went swinging off into the darkness. Itwas now like one of those moving monsters wending with many feet. Theair 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 ofall these huge crawling reptiles. From the road came creakings andgrumblings as some surly guns were dragged away. 

The men stumbled along still muttering speculations. There was asubdued debate. Once a man fell down, and as he reached for his riflea comrade, unseeing, trod upon his hand. He of the injured fingersswore bitterly, and aloud. A low, tittering laugh went among hisfellows. 

Presently they passed into a roadway and marched forward with easystrides. A dark regiment moved before them, and from behind also camethe 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 andrearward vanished in a wood. They were like two serpents crawling fromthe cavern of the night. 

The river was not in view. The tall soldier burst into praises of whathe 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 thetrue one at all. They persisted with other theories. There was avigorous discussion. 

The youth took no part in them. As he walked along in careless line hewas engaged with his own eternal debate. He could not hinder himselffrom dwelling upon it. He was despondent and sullen, and threwshifting glances about him. He looked ahead, often expecting to hearfrom the advance the rattle of firing. 

But the long serpents crawled slowly from hill to hill without blusterof smoke. A dun-colored cloud of dust floated away to the right. Thesky overhead was of a fairy blue. 

The youth studied the faces of his companions, ever on the watch todetect kindred emotions. He suffered disappointment. Some ardor ofthe air which was causing the veteran commands to move withglee--almost with song--had infected the new regiment. The men beganto speak of victory as of a thing they knew. Also, the tall soldierreceived his vindication. They were certainly going to come around inbehind the enemy. They expressed commiseration for that part of thearmy which had been left upon the river bank, felicitating themselvesupon being a part of a blasting host. 

The youth, considering himself as separated from the others, wassaddened by the blithe and merry speeches that went from rank to rank. The company wags all made their best endeavors. The regiment trampedto the tune of laughter. 

The blatant soldier often convulsed whole files by his biting sarcasmsaimed 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. Heplanned to load his knapsack upon it. He was escaping with his prizewhen a young girl rushed from the house and grabbed the animal's mane. There followed a wrangle. The young girl, with pink cheeks and shiningeyes, stood like a dauntless statue. 

The observant regiment, standing at rest in the roadway, whooped atonce, and entered whole-souled upon the side of the maiden. The menbecame so engrossed in this affair that they entirely ceased toremember their own large war. They jeered the piratical private, andcalled attention to various defects in his personal appearance; andthey 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 retreatedwithout the horse. The regiment rejoiced at his downfall. Loud andvociferous congratulations were showered upon the maiden, who stoodpanting and regarding the troops with defiance. 

At nightfall the column broke into regimental pieces, and the fragmentswent 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 ascircumstances would allow him. In the evening he wandered a few pacesinto the gloom. From this little distance the many fires, with theblack forms of men passing to and fro before the crimson rays, madeweird and satanic effects. 

He lay down in the grass. The blades pressed tenderly against hischeek. The moon had been lighted and was hung in a treetop. Theliquid stillness of the night enveloping him made him feel vast pityfor himself. There was a caress in the soft winds; and the whole moodof the darkness, he thought, was one of sympathy for himself in hisdistress. 

He wished, without reserve, that he was at home again making theendless 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 rememberedhe had so often cursed the brindle cow and her mates, and had sometimesflung milking stools. But, from his present point of view, there was ahalo of happiness about each of their heads, and he would havesacrificed all the brass buttons on the continent to have been enabledto return to them. He told himself that he was not formed for asoldier. And he mused seriously upon the radical differences betweenhimself and those men who were dodging implike around the fires. 

As he mused thus he heard the rustle of grass, and, upon turning hishead, discovered the loud soldier. He called out, "Oh, Wilson!"

The latter approached and looked down. "Why, hello, Henry; is it you?What are you doing here?"

"Oh, thinking, " said the youth. 

The other sat down and carefully lighted his pipe. "You're gettingblue my boy. You're looking thundering peek-ed. What the dickens iswrong with you?"

"Oh, nothing, " said the youth. 

The loud soldier launched then into the subject of the anticipatedfight. "Oh, we've got 'em now!" As he spoke his boyish face waswreathed in a gleeful smile, and his voice had an exultant ring. "We've got 'em now. At last, by the eternal thunders, we'll like 'emgood!"

"If the truth was known, " he added, more soberly, "they've licked USabout every clip up to now; but this time--this time--we'll lick 'emgood!"

"I thought you was objecting to this march a little while ago, " saidthe youth coldly. 

"Oh, it wasn't that, " explained the other. "I don't mind marching, ifthere's going to be fighting at the end of it. What I hate is thisgetting moved here and moved there, with no good coming of it, as faras I can see, excepting sore feet and damned short rations. "

"Well, Jim Conklin says we'll get plenty of fighting this time. "

"He's right for once, I guess, though I can't see how it come. Thistime 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 excitedly. The thrill of hisenthusiasm made him walk with an elastic step. He was sprightly, vigorous, fiery in his belief in success. He looked into the futurewith 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 spokehis voice was as bitter as dregs. "Oh, you're going to do greatthings, 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'lldo as well as the rest. I'm going to try like thunder. " He evidentlycomplimented 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 thoughtthey was going to do great things before the fight, but when the timecome they skedaddled. "

"Oh, that's all true, I s'pose, " replied the other; "but I'm not goingto 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 indignantly; "and I didn'tsay I was the bravest man in the world, neither. I said I was going todo my share of fighting--that's what I said. And I am, too. Who areyou, 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, youneedn't git mad about it!" But the other continued on his way and madeno reply. 

He felt alone in space when his injured comrade had disappeared. Hisfailure to discover any mite of resemblance in their viewpoints madehim more miserable than before. No one seemed to be wrestling withsuch a terrific personal problem. He was a mental outcast. 

He went slowly to his tent and stretched himself on a blanket by theside of the snoring tall soldier. In the darkness he saw visions of athousand-tongued fear that would babble at his back and cause him toflee, while others were going coolly about their country's business. He admitted that he would not be able to cope with this monster. Hefelt 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. " "Sevengoes. "

He stared at the red, shivering reflection of a fire on the white wallof his tent until, exhausted and ill from the monotony of hissuffering, he fell asleep. 

Chapter 3

When another night came, the columns, changed to purple streaks, filedacross two pontoon bridges. A glaring fire wine-tinted the waters ofthe river. Its rays, shining upon the moving masses of troops, broughtforth here and there sudden gleams of silver or gold. Upon the othershore 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 theymight be suddenly and fearfully assaulted from the caves of thelowering woods. He kept his eyes watchfully upon the darkness. 

But his regiment went unmolested to a camping place, and its soldiersslept the brave sleep of wearied men. In the morning they were routedout with early energy, and hustled along a narrow road that led deepinto the forest. 

It was during this rapid march that the regiment lost many of the marksof a new command. 

The men had begun to count the miles upon their fingers, and they grewtired. "Sore feet an' damned short rations, that's all, " said the loudsoldier. There was perspiration and grumblings. After a time theybegan to shed their knapsacks. Some tossed them unconcernedly down;others hid them carefully, asserting their plans to return for them atsome 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 andshoot, " said the tall soldier to the youth. "That's all you want todo. "

There was sudden change from the ponderous infantry of theory to thelight and speedy infantry of practice. The regiment, relieved of aburden, received a new impetus. But there was much loss of valuableknapsacks, and, on the whole, very good shirts. 

But the regiment was not yet veteranlike in appearance. Veteranregiments in the army were likely to be very small aggregations of men. Once, when the command had first come to the field, some perambulatingveterans, noting the length of their column, had accosted them thus:"Hey, fellers, what brigade is that?" And when the men had replied thatthey formed a regiment and not a brigade, the older soldiers hadlaughed, and said, "O Gawd!"

Also, there was too great a similarity in the hats. The hats of aregiment should properly represent the history of headgear for a periodof years. And, moreover, there were no letters of faded gold speakingfrom the colors. They were new and beautiful, and the color bearerhabitually oiled the pole. 

Presently the army again sat down to think. The odor of the peacefulpines was in the men's nostrils. The sound of monotonous axe blowsrang through the forest, and the insects, nodding upon their perches, crooned like old women. The youth returned to his theory of a bluedemonstration. 

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 awood road in the midst of men who were panting from the first effectsof speed. His canteen banged rythmically upon his thigh, and hishaversack bobbed softly. His musket bounced a trifle from his shoulderat each stride and made his cap feel uncertain upon his head. 

He could hear the men whisper jerky sentences: "Say--what's allthis--about?" "What th' thunder--we--skedaddlin' this way fer?""Billie--keep off m' feet. Yeh run--like a cow. " And the loudsoldier's shrill voice could be heard: "What th'devil they in sich ahurry for?"

The youth thought the damp fog of early morning moved from the rush ofa great body of troops. From the distance came a sudden spatter offiring. 

He was bewildered. As he ran with his comrades he strenuously tried tothink, but all he knew was that if he fell down those coming behindwould tread upon him. All his faculties seemed to be needed to guidehim over and past obstructions. He felt carried along by a mob. 

The sun spread disclosing rays, and, one by one, regiments burst intoview like armed men just born of the earth. The youth perceived thatthe time had come. He was about to be measured. For a moment he feltin the face of his great trial like a babe, and the flesh over hisheart seemed very thin. He seized time to look about him calculatingly. 

But he instantly saw that it would be impossible for him to escape fromthe regiment. It inclosed him. And there were iron laws of traditionand law on four sides. He was in a moving box. 

As he perceived this fact it occurred to him that he had never wishedto come to the war. He had not enlisted of his free will. He had beendragged by the merciless government. And now they were taking him outto be slaughtered. 

The regiment slid down a bank and wallowed across a little stream. Themournful 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 ofcuriosity. He scrambled up the bank with a speed that could not beexceeded by a bloodthirsty man. 

He expected a battle scene. 

There were some little fields girted and squeezed by a forest. Spreadover the grass and in among the tree trunks, he could see knots andwaving lines of skirmishers who were running hither and thither andfiring at the landscape. A dark battle line lay upon a sunstruckclearing that gleamed orange color. A flag fluttered. 

Other regiments floundered up the bank. The brigade was formed in lineof battle, and after a pause started slowly through the woods in therear of the receding skirmishers, who were continually melting into thescene 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 avoidtrees and branches, and his forgotten feet were constantly knockingagainst stones or getting entangled in briers. He was aware that thesebattalions with their commotions were woven red and startling into thegentle fabric of softened greens and browns. It looked to be a wrongplace for a battle field. 

The skirmishers in advance fascinated him. Their shots into thicketsand at distant and prominent trees spoke to him of tragedies--hidden, mysterious, solemn. 

Once the line encountered the body of a dead soldier. He lay upon hisback staring at the sky. He was dressed in an awkward suit ofyellowish brown. The youth could see that the soles of his shoes hadbeen worn to the thinness of writing paper, and from a great rent inone the dead foot projected piteously. And it was as if fate hadbetrayed the soldier. In death it exposed to his enemies that povertywhich in life he had perhaps concealed from his friends. 

The ranks opened covertly to avoid the corpse. The invulnerable deadman forced a way for himself. The youth looked keenly at the ashenface. The wind raised the tawny beard. It moved as if a hand werestroking it. He vaguely desired to walk around and around the body andstare; the impulse of the living to try to read in dead eyes the answerto the Question. 

During the march the ardor which the youth had acquired when out ofview of the field rapidly faded to nothing. His curiosity was quiteeasily satisfied. If an intense scene had caught him with its wildswing as he came to the top of the bank, he might have gone goneroaring on. This advance upon Nature was too calm. He had opportunityto reflect. He had time in which to wonder about himself and toattempt to probe his sensations. 

Absurd ideas took hold upon him. He thought that he did not relish thelandscape. It threatened him. A coldness swept over his back, and itis true that his trousers felt to him that they were no fit for hislegs 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 thisvista there lurked fierce-eyed hosts. The swift thought came to himthat the generals did not know what they were about. It was all atrap. Suddenly those close forests would bristle with rifle barrels. Ironlike brigades would appear in the rear. They were all going to besacrificed. The generals were stupids. The enemy would presentlyswallow the whole command. He glared about him, expecting to see thestealthy 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 topass unless they were informed of these dangers. The generals wereidiots to send them marching into a regular pen. There was but onepair 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 onthrough fields and woods. The youth looked at the men nearest him, andsaw, for the most part, expressions of deep interest, as if they wereinvestigating something that had fascinated them. One or two steppedwith overvaliant airs as if they were already plunged into war. Otherswalked as upon thin ice. The greater part of the untested men appearedquiet and absorbed. They were going to look at war, the redanimal--war, the blood-swollen god. And they were deeply engrossed inthis march. 

As he looked the youth gripped his outcry at his throat. He saw thateven if the men were tottering with fear they would laugh at hiswarning. They would jeer him, and, if practicable, pelt him withmissiles. Admitting that he might be wrong, a frenzied declamation ofthe kind would turn him into a worm. 

He assumed, then, the demeanor of one who knows that he is doomed aloneto unwritten responsibilities. He lagged, with tragic glances at thesky. 

He was surprised presently by the young lieutenant of his company, whobegan heartily to beat him with a sword, calling out in a loud andinsolent voice: "Come, young man, get up into ranks there. Noskulking 'll do here. " He mended his pace with suitable haste. And hehated the lieutenant, who had no appreciation of fine minds. He was amere brute. 

After a time the brigade was halted in the cathedral light of a forest. The busy skirmishers were still popping. Through the aisles of thewood could be seen the floating smoke from their rifles. Sometimes itwent up in little balls, white and compact. 

During this halt many men in the regiment began erecting tiny hills infront of them. They used stones sticks, earth, and anything theythought might turn a bullet. Some built comparatively large ones, while others seems content with little ones. 

This procedure caused a discussion among the men. Some wished to fightlike duelists, believing it to be correct to stand erect and be, fromtheir feet to their foreheads, a mark. They said they scorned thedevices of the cautious. But the others scoffed in reply, and pointedto the veterans on the flanks who were digging at the ground liketerriers. In a short time there was quite a barricade along theregimental fronts. Directly, however, they were ordered to withdrawfrom that place. 

This astounded the youth. He forgot his stewing over the advancemovement. "Well, then, what did they march us out here for?" hedemanded of the tall soldier. The latter with calm faith began a heavyexplanation, although he had been compelled to leave a littleprotection of stones and dirt to which he had devoted much care andskill. 

When the regiment was aligned in another position each man's regard forhis safety caused another line of small intrenchments. They ate theirnoon 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 became another thing in battle. He saw his salvation in such a change. Hence this waiting was anordeal to him. He was in a fever of impatience. He considered thatthere was denoted a lack of purpose on the part of the generals. Hebegan to complain to the tall soldier. "I can't stand this muchlonger, " he cried. "I don't see what good it does to make us wear outour legs for nothin'. " He wished to return to camp, knowing that thisaffair was a blue demonstration; or else to go into a battle anddiscover that he had been a fool in his doubts, and was, in truth, aman of traditional courage. The strain of present circumstances hefelt to be intolerable. 

The philosophical tall soldier measured a sandwich of cracker and porkand swallowed it in a nonchalant manner. "Oh, I suppose we must goreconnoitering around the country jest to keep 'em from getting tooclose, or to develop 'em, or something. "

"Huh!" said the loud soldier. 

"Well, " cried the youth, still fidgeting, "I'd rather do anything 'mostthan go tramping 'round the country all day doing no good to nobody andjest tiring ourselves out. "

"So would I, " said the loud soldier. "It ain't right. I tell you ifanybody with any sense was a-runnin' this army it--"

"Oh, shut up!" roared the tall private. "You little fool. You littledamn' cuss. You ain't had that there coat and them pants on for sixmonths, and yet you talk as if--"

"Well, I wanta do some fighting anyway, " interrupted the other. "Ididn'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 poisonin despair. 

But gradually, as he chewed, his face became again quiet and contented. He could not rage in fierce argument in the presence of suchsandwiches. During his meals he always wore an air of blissfulcontemplation of the food he had swallowed. His spirit seemed then tobe communing with the viands. 

He accepted new environment and circumstance with great coolness, eating from his haversack at every opportunity. On the march he wentalong with the stride of a hunter, objecting to neither gait nordistance. And he had not raised his voice when he had been orderedaway from three little protective piles of earth and stone, each ofwhich had been an engineering feat worthy of being made sacred to thename of his grandmother. 

In the afternoon, the regiment went out over the same ground it hadtaken in the morning. 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 ofstupidity and incompetence reassailed him, but this time he doggedlylet them babble. He was occupied with his problem, and in hisdesperation he concluded that the stupidity did not greatly matter. 

Once he thought he had concluded that it would be better to get killeddirectly and end his troubles. Regarding death thus out of the cornerof his eye, he conceived it to be nothing but rest, and he was filledwith a momentary astonishment that he should have made an extraordinarycommotion over the mere matter of getting killed. He would die; hewould go to some place where he would be understood. It was useless toexpect appreciation of his profound and fine sense from such men as thelieutenant. He must look to the grave for comprehension. 

The skirmish fire increased to a long clattering sound. With it wasmingled far-away cheering. A battery spoke. 

Directly the youth could see the skirmishers running. They werepursued by the sound of musketry fire. After a time the hot, dangerousflashes of the rifles were visible. Smoke clouds went slowly andinsolently across the fields like observant phantoms. The din becamecrescendo, like the roar of an oncoming train. 

A brigade ahead of them and on the right went into action with arending roar. It was as if it had exploded. And thereafter it laystretched in the distance behind a long gray wall, that one was obligedto look twice at to make sure that it was smoke. 

The youth, forgetting his neat plan of getting killed, gazed spellbound. His eyes grew wide and busy with the action of the scene. Hismouth 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 loudsoldier. 

"It's my first and last battle, old boy, " said the latter, with intensegloom. He was quite pale and his girlish lip was trembling. 

"Eh?" murmured the youth in great astonishment. 

"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 thesehere things--to--my--folks. " He ended in a quavering sob of pity forhimself. He handed the youth a little packet done up in a yellowenvelope. 

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

But the other gave him a glance as from the depths of a tomb, andraised his limp hand in a prophetic manner and turned away. 

Chapter 4

The brigade was halted in the fringe of a grove. The men crouchedamong 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 informationand gestured as the hurried. 

The men of the new regiment watched and listened eagerly, while theirtongues ran on in gossip of the battle. They mouthed rumors that hadflown 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 smartlieutenant is commanding 'G' Company. Th' boys say they won't be underCarrott 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'nfifteen minutes ago. "

"Well--"

"Th' general, he ses he is goin' t' take th' hull command of th' 304thwhen we go inteh action, an' then he ses we'll do sech fightin' asnever 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 'anothin'. "

"I met one of th' 148th Maine boys an' he ses his brigade fit th' hullrebel army fer four hours over on th' turnpike road an' killed aboutfive 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'ta-gittin' scared easy. He was jest mad, that's what he was. When thatfeller trod on his hand, he up an' sed that he was willin' t' give hishand t' his country, but he be dumbed if he was goin' t' have everydumb bushwhacker in th' kentry walkin' 'round on it. So 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, Ihear. He's a funny feller. "

The din in front swelled to a tremendous chorus. The youth and hisfellows were frozen to silence. They could see a flag that tossed inthe smoke angrily. Near it were the blurred and agitated forms oftroops. There came a turbulent stream of men across the fields. Abattery changing position at a frantic gallop scattered the stragglersright and left. 

A shell screaming like a storm banshee went over the huddled heads ofthe reserves. It landed in the grove, and exploding redly flung thebrown 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, weeand invisible, were being wielded. Many of the men were constantlydodging and ducking their heads. 

The lieutenant of the youth's company was shot in the hand. He beganto swear so wondrously that a nervous laugh went along the regimentalline. The officer's profanity sounded conventional. It relieved thetightened senses of the new men. It was as if he had hit his fingerswith a tack hammer at home. 

He held the wounded member carefully away from his side so that theblood would not drip upon his trousers. 

The captain of the company, tucking his sword under his arm, produced ahandkerchief and began to bind with it the lieutenant's wound. Andthey disputed as to how the binding should be done. 

The battle flag in the distance jerked about madly. It seemed to bestruggling to free itself from an agony. The billowing smoke wasfilled with horizontal flashes. 

Men rushing swiftly emerged from it. They grew in numbers until it wasseen that the whole command was fleeing. The flag suddenly sank downas 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 andred dissolved into a moblike body of men who galloped like wild horses. The veteran regiments on the right and left of the 304th immediatelybegan to jeer. With the passionate song of the bullets and the bansheeshrieks of shells were mingled loud catcalls and bits of facetiousadvice concerning places of safety. 

But the new regiment was breathless with horror. "Gawd! Saunders'sgot crushed!" whispered the man at the youth's elbow. They shrank backand crouched as if compelled to await a flood. 

The youth shot a swift glance along the blue ranks of the regiment. The profiles were motionless, carven; and afterward he remembered thatthe color sergeant was standing with his legs apart, as if he expectedto be pushed to the ground. 

The following throng went whirling around the flank. Here and therewere officers carried along on the stream like exasperated chips. Theywere striking about them with their swords and with their left fists, punching every head they could reach. They cursed like highwaymen. 

A mounted officer displayed the furious anger of a spoiled child. Heraged 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 hascome from bed to go to a fire. The hoofs of his horse often threatenedthe heads of the running men, but they scampered with singular fortune. In this rush they were apparently all deaf and blind. They heeded notthe largest and longest of the oaths that were thrown at them from alldirections. 

Frequently over this tumult could be heard the grim jokes of thecritical veterans; but the retreating men apparently were not evenconscious of the presence of an audience. 

The battle reflection that shone for an instant in the faces on the madcurrent made the youth feel that forceful hands from heaven would nothave been able to have held him in place if he could have gotintelligent control of his legs. 

There was an appalling imprint upon these faces. The struggle in thesmoke had pictured an exaggeration of itself on the bleached cheeks andin the eyes wild with one desire. 

The sight of this stampede exerted a floodlike force that seemed ableto drag sticks and stones and men from the ground. They of thereserves 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. Thecomposite monster which had caused the other troops to flee had notthen appeared. He resolved to get a view of it, and then, he thoughthe might very likely run better than the best of them. 

Chapter 5

There were moments of waiting. The youth thought of the village streetat 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 tofollow the dingy lady upon the white horse, or the band in its fadedchariot. He saw the yellow road, the lines of expectant people, andthe sober houses. He particularly remembered an old fellow who used tosit upon a cracker box in front of the store and feign to despise suchexhibitions. A thousand details of color and form surged in his mind. The old fellow upon the cracker box appeared in middle prominence. 

Some one cried, "Here they come!"

There was rustling and muttering among the men. They displayed afeverish desire to have every possible cartridge ready to their hands. The boxes were pulled around into various positions, and adjusted withgreat care. It was as if seven hundred new bonnets were being tried on. 

The tall soldier, having prepared his rifle, produced a redhandkerchief of some kind. He was engaged in knotting it about histhroat with exquisite attention to its position, when the cry wasrepeated 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 whowere giving shrill yells. They came on, stooping and swinging theirrifles at all angles. A flag, tilted forward, sped near the front. 

As he caught sight of them the youth was momentarily startled by athought that perhaps his gun was not loaded. He stood trying to rallyhis faltering intellect so that he might recollect the moment when hehad loaded, but he could not. 

A hatless general pulled his dripping horse to a stand near the colonelof the 304th. He shook his fist in the other's face. "You've got tohold '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 ourbest, General. " The general made a passionate gesture and gallopedaway. The colonel, perchance to relieve his feelings, began to scoldlike a wet parrot. The youth, turning swiftly to make sure that therear was unmolested, saw the commander regarding his men in a highlyresentful manner, as if he regretted above everything his associationwith 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 therear. He coaxed in schoolmistress fashion, as to a congregation ofboys with primers. His talk was an endless repetition. "Reserve yourfire, boys--don't shoot till I tell you--save your fire--wait till theyget close up--don't be damned fools--"

Perspiration streamed down the youth's face, which was soiled like thatof a weeping urchin. He frequently, with a nervous movement, wiped hiseyes with his coat sleeve. His mouth was still a little ways ope. 

He got the one glance at the foe-swarming field in front of him, andinstantly ceased to debate the question of his piece being loaded. Before he was ready to begin--before he had announced to himself thathe was about to fight--he threw the obedient well-balanced rifle intoposition and fired a first wild shot. Directly he was working at hisweapon like an automatic affair. 

He suddenly lost concern for himself, and forgot to look at a menacingfate. He became not a man but a member. He felt that something ofwhich he was a part--a regiment, an army, a cause, or a country--was incrisis. He was welded into a common personality which was dominated bya single desire. For some moments he could not flee no more than alittle finger can commit a revolution from a hand. 

If he had thought the regiment was about to be annihilated perhaps hecould have amputated himself from it. But its noise gave himassurance. 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 groundbefore it as strewn with the discomfited. 

There was a consciousness always of the presence of his comrades abouthim. He felt the subtle battle brotherhood more potent even than thecause for which they were fighting. It was a mysterious fraternityborn of the smoke and danger 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 hismovements. He, in his thoughts, was careering off in other places, even as the carpenter who as he works whistles and thinks of his friendor his enemy, his home or a saloon. And these jolted dreams were neverperfect to him afterward, but remained a mass of blurred shapes. 

Presently he began to feel the effects of the war atmosphere--ablistering sweat, a sensation that his eyeballs were about to cracklike hot stones. A burning roar filled his ears. 

Following this came a red rage. He developed the acute exasperation ofa pestered animal, a well-meaning cow worried by dogs. He had a madfeeling against his rifle, which could only be used against one life ata time. He wished to rush forward and strangle with his fingers. Hecraved a power that would enable him to make a world-sweeping gestureand brush all back. His impotency appeared to him, and made his rageinto that of a driven beast. 

Buried in the smoke of many rifles his anger was directed not so muchagainst the men whom he knew were rushing toward him as against theswirling battle phantoms which were choking him, stuffing their smokerobes down his parched throat. He fought frantically for respite forhis senses, for air, as a babe being smothered attacks the deadlyblankets. 

There was a blare of heated rage mingled with a certain expression ofintentness on all faces. Many of the men were making low-toned noiseswith their mouths, and these subdued cheers, snarls, imprecations, prayers, made a wild, barbaric song that went as an undercurrent ofsound, strange and chantlike with the resounding chords of the warmarch. The man at the youth's elbow was babbling. In it there wassomething soft and tender like the monologue of a babe. The tallsoldier was swearing in a loud voice. From his lips came a blackprocession of curious oaths. Of a sudden another broke out in aquerulous way like a man who has mislaid his hat. "Well, why don't theysupport 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 andsurging in their haste and rage were in every impossible attitude. Thesteel ramrods clanked and clanged with incessant din as the men poundedthem furiously into the hot rifle barrels. The flaps of the cartridgeboxes were all unfastened, and bobbed idiotically with each movement. The rifles, once loaded, were jerked to the shoulder and fired withoutapparent aim into the smoke or at one of the blurred and shifting formswhich upon the field before the regiment had been growing larger andlarger like puppets under a magician's hand. 

The officers, at their intervals, rearward, neglected to stand inpicturesque attitudes. They were bobbing to and fro roaring directionsand encouragements. The dimensions of their howls were extraordinary. They expended their lungs with prodigal wills. And often they nearlystood upon their heads in their anxiety to observe the enemy on theother side of the tumbling smoke. 

The lieutenant of the youth's company had encountered a soldier who hadfled screaming at the first volley of his comrades. Behind the linesthese two were acting a little isolated scene. The man was blubberingand staring with sheeplike eyes at the lieutenant, who had seized himby the collar and was pommeling him. He drove him back into the rankswith many blows. The soldier went mechanically, dully, with hisanimal-like eyes upon the officer. Perhaps there was to him a divinityexpressed in the voice of the other--stern, hard, with no reflection offear in it. He tried to reload his gun, but his shaking handsprevented. The lieutenant was obliged to assist him. 

The men dropped here and there like bundles. The captain of theyouth's company had been killed in an early part of the action. Hisbody lay stretched out in the position of a tired man resting, but uponhis face there was an astonished and sorrowful look, as if he thoughtsome friend had done him an ill turn. The babbling man was grazed by ashot that made the blood stream widely down his face. He clapped bothhand to his head. "Oh!" he said, and ran. Another grunted suddenly asif he had been struck by a club in the stomach. He sat down and gazedruefully. In his eyes there was mute, indefinite reproach. Farther upthe line a man, standing behind a tree, had had his knee jointsplintered by a ball. Immediately he had dropped his rifle and grippedthe tree with both arms. And there he remained, clinging desperatelyand crying for assistance that he might withdraw his hold upon the tree. 

At last an exultant yell went along the quivering line. The firingdwindled from an uproar to a last vindictive popping. As the smokeslowly eddied away, the youth saw that the charge had been repulsed. The enemy were scattered into reluctant groups. He saw a man climb tothe top of the fence, straddle the rail, and fire a parting shot. Thewaves had receded, leaving bits of dark "debris" upon the ground. 

Some in the regiment began to whoop frenziedly. Many were silent. Apparently they were trying to contemplate themselves. 

After the fever had left his veins, the youth thought that at last hewas going to suffocate. He became aware of the foul atmosphere inwhich he had been struggling. He was grimy and dripping like a laborerin a foundry. He grasped his canteen and took a long swallow of thewarmed water. 

A sentence with variations went up and down the line. "Well, we 'vehelt 'em back. We 've helt 'em back; derned if we haven't. " The mensaid it blissfully, leering at each other with dirty smiles. 

The youth turned to look behind him and off to the right and off to theleft. He experienced the joy of a man who at last finds leisure inwhich to look about him. 

Under foot there were a few ghastly forms motionless. They lay twistedin fantastic contortions. Arms were bent and heads were turned inincredible ways. It seemed that the dead men must have fallen fromsome great height to get into such positions. They looked to be dumpedout upon the ground from the sky. 

From a position in the rear of the grove a battery was throwing shellsover it. The flash of the guns startled the youth at first. Hethought they were aimed directly at him. Through the trees he watchedthe black figures of the gunners as they worked swiftly and intently. Their labor seemed a complicated thing. He wondered how they couldremember its formula in the midst of confusion. 

The guns squatted in a row like savage chiefs. They argued with abruptviolence. It was a grim pow-wow. Their busy servants ran hither andthither. 

A small procession of wounded men were going 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. Farin front he thought he could see lighter masses protruding in pointsfrom the forest. They were suggestive of unnumbered 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 cheerings and clashes. Smokewelled slowly through the leaves. 

Batteries were speaking with thunderous oratorical effort. Here andthere were flags, the red in the stripes dominating. They splashedbits of warm color upon the dark lines of troops. 

The youth felt the old thrill at the sight of the emblems. They werelike beautiful birds strangely undaunted in a storm. 

As he listened to the din from the hillside, to a deep pulsatingthunder that came from afar to the left, and to the lesser clamorswhich came from many directions, it occurred to him that they werefighting, too, over there, and over there, and over there. Heretoforehe had supposed that all the battle was directly under his nose. 

As he gazed around him the youth felt a flash of astonishment at theblue, pure sky and the sun gleamings on the trees and fields. It wassurprising that Nature had gone tranquilly on with her golden processin the midst of so much devilment. 

Chapter 6

The youth awakened slowly. He came gradually back to a position fromwhich he could regard himself. For moments he had been scrutinizinghis person in a dazed way as if he had never before seen himself. Thenhe picked up his cap from the ground. He wriggled in his jacket tomake a more comfortable fit, and kneeling relaced his shoe. Hethoughtfully mopped his reeking features. 

So it was all over at last! The supreme trial had been passed. Thered, formidable difficulties of war had been vanquished. 

He went into an ecstasy of self-satisfaction. He had the mostdelightful sensations of his life. Standing as if apart from himself, he viewed that last scene. He perceived that the man who had foughtthus was magnificent. 

He felt that he was a fine fellow. He saw himself even with thoseideals which he had considered as far beyond him. He smiled in deepgratification. 

Upon his fellows he beamed tenderness and good will. "Gee! ain't ithot, hey?" he said affably to a man who was polishing his streamingface with his coat sleeves. 

"You bet!" said the other, grinning sociably. "I never seen sech dumbhotness. " 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 featureswere familiar, but with whom the youth now felt the bonds of tiedhearts. 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 thenew regiment. "Here they come ag'in! Here they come ag'in!" The manwho had sprawled upon the ground started up and said, "Gosh!"

The youth turned quick eyes upon the field. He discerned forms beginto swell in masses out of a distant wood. He again saw the tilted flagspeeding forward. 

The shells, which had ceased to trouble the regiment for a time, cameswirling again, and exploded in the grass or among the leaves of thetrees. They looked to be strange war flowers bursting into fiercebloom. 

The men groaned. The luster faded from their eyes. Their smudgedcountenances now expressed a profound dejection. They moved theirstiffened bodies slowly, and watched in sullen mood the franticapproach of the enemy. The slaves toiling in the temple of this godbegan to feel rebellion at his harsh tasks. 

They fretted and complained each to each. "Oh, say, this is too muchof a good thing! Why can't somebody send us supports?"

"We ain't never goin' to stand this second banging. I didn't come hereto fight the hull damn' rebel army. "

There was one who raised a doleful cry. "I wish Bill Smithers had trodon my hand, insteader me treddin' on his'n. " The sore joints of theregiment creaked as it painfully floundered into position to repulse. 

The youth stared. Surely, he thought, this impossible thing was notabout to happen. He waited as if he expected the enemy to suddenlystop, apologize, and retire bowing. It was all a mistake. 

But the firing began somewhere on the regimental line and ripped alongin both directions. The level sheets of flame developed great cloudsof smoke that tumbled and tossed in the mild wind near the ground for amoment, and then rolled through the ranks as through a gate. Theclouds were tinged an earthlike yellow in the sunrays and in the shadowwere a sorry blue. The flag was sometimes eaten and lost in this massof 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 ofa jaded horse. His neck was quivering with nervous weakness and themuscles of his arms felt numb and bloodless. His hands, too, seemedlarge and awkward as if he was wearing invisible mittens. And therewas a great uncertainty about his knee joints. 

The words that comrades had uttered previous to the firing began torecur to him. "Oh, say, this is too much of a good thing! What dothey take us for--why don't they send supports? I didn't come here tofight the hull damned rebel army. "

He began to exaggerate the endurance, the skill, and the valor of thosewho were coming. Himself reeling from exhaustion, he was astonishedbeyond measure at such persistency. They must be machines of steel. It was very gloomy struggling against such affairs, wound up perhaps tofight until sundown. 

He slowly lifted his rifle and catching a glimpse of the thickspreadfield he blazed at a cantering cluster. He stopped then and began topeer as best as he could through the smoke. He caught changing viewsof the ground covered with men who were all running like pursued imps, and yelling. 

To the youth it was an onslaught of redoubtable dragons. He becamelike the man who lost his legs at the approach of the red and greenmonster. He waited in a sort of a horrified, listening attitude. Heseemed to shut his eyes and wait to be gobbled. 

A man near him who up to this time had been working feverishly at hisrifle suddenly stopped and ran with howls. A lad whose face had bornean expression of exalted courage, the majesty of he who dares give hislife, was, at an instant, smitten abject. He blanched like one who hascome to the edge of a cliff at midnight and is suddenly made aware. There was a revelation. He, too, threw down his gun and fled. Therewas no shame in his face. He ran like a rabbit. 

Others began to scamper away through the smoke. The youth turned hishead, shaken from his trance by this movement as if the regiment wasleaving him behind. He saw the few fleeting forms. 

He yelled then with fright and swung about. For a moment, in the greatclamor, he was like a proverbial chicken. He lost the direction ofsafety. Destruction threatened him from all points. 

Directly he began to speed toward the rear in great leaps. His rifleand cap were gone. His unbuttoned coat bulged in the wind. The flapof his cartridge box bobbed wildly, and his canteen, by its slendercord, swung out behind. On his face was all the horror of those thingswhich he imagined. 

The lieutenant sprang forward bawling. The youth saw his featureswrathfully red, and saw him make a dab with his sword. His one thoughtof the incident was that the lieutenant was a peculiar creature to feelinterested in such matters upon this occasion. 

He ran like a blind man. Two or three times he fell down. Once heknocked his shoulder so heavily against a tree that he went headlong. 

Since he had turned his back upon the fight his fears had beenwondrously magnified. Death about to thrust him between the shoulderblades was far more dreadful than death about to smite him between theeyes. When he thought of it later, he conceived the impression that itis better to view the appalling than to be merely within hearing. Thenoises of the battle were like stones; he believed himself liable to becrushed. 

As he ran on he mingled with others. He dimly saw men on his right andon his left, and he heard footsteps behind him. He thought that allthe regiment was fleeing, pursued by those ominous crashes. 

In his flight the sound of these following footsteps gave him his onemeager relief. He felt vaguely that death must make a first choice ofthe men who were nearest; the initial morsels for the dragons would bethen those who were following him. So he displayed the zeal of aninsane sprinter in his purpose to keep them in the rear. There was arace. 

As he, leading, went across a little field, he found himself in aregion of shells. They hurtled over his head with long wild screams. As he listened he imagined them to have rows of cruel teeth thatgrinned at him. Once one lit before him and the livid lightning of theexplosion effectually barred the way in his chosen direction. Hegroveled on the ground and then springing up went careering off throughsome bushes. 

He experienced a thrill of amazement when he came within view of abattery in action. The men there seemed to be in conventional moods, altogether unaware of the impending annihilation. The battery wasdisputing with a distant antagonist and the gunners were wrapped inadmiration of their shooting. They were continually bending in coaxingpostures over the guns. They seemed to be patting them on the back andencouraging them with words. The guns, stolid and undaunted, spokewith dogged valor. 

The precise gunners were coolly enthusiastic. They lifted their eyesevery chance to the smoke-wreathed hillock from whence the hostilebattery addressed them. The youth pitied them as he ran. Methodicalidiots! Machine-like fools! The refined joy of planting shells in themidst of the other battery's formation would appear a little thing whenthe infantry came swooping out of the woods. 

The face of a youthful rider, who was jerking his frantic horse with anabandon of temper he might display in a placid barnyard, was impresseddeeply upon his mind. He knew that he looked upon a man who wouldpresently be dead. 

Too, he felt a pity for the guns, standing, six good comrades, in abold row. 

He saw a brigade going to the relief of its pestered fellows. Hescrambled upon a wee hill and watched it sweeping finely, keepingformation in difficult places. The blue of the line was crusted withsteel color, and the brilliant flags projected. Officers were shouting. 

This sight also filled him with wonder. The brigade was hurryingbriskly to be gulped into the infernal mouths of the war god. Whatmanner of men were they, anyhow? Ah, it was some wondrous breed! Orelse they didn't comprehend--the fools. 

A furious order caused commotion in the artillery. An officer on abounding horse made maniacal motions with his arms. The teams wentswinging up from the rear, the guns were whirled about, and the batteryscampered away. The cannon with their noses poked slantingly at theground grunted and grumbled like stout men, brave but with objectionsto hurry. 

The youth went on, moderating his pace since he had left the place ofnoises. 

Later he came upon a general of division seated upon a horse thatpricked its ears in an interested way at the battle. There was a greatgleaming of yellow and patent leather about the saddle and bridle. Thequiet man astride looked mouse-colored upon such a splendid charger. 

A jingling staff was galloping hither and thither. Sometimes thegeneral was surrounded by horsemen and at other times he was quitealone. He looked to be much harassed. He had the appearance of abusiness man whose market is swinging up and down. 

The youth went slinking around this spot. He went as near as he daredtrying to overhear words. Perhaps the general, unable to comprehendchaos, might call upon him for information. And he could tell him. Heknew all concerning it. Of a surety the force was in a fix, and anyfool could see that if they did not retreat while they hadopportunity--why--

He felt that he would like to thrash the general, or at least approachand tell him in plain words exactly what he thought him to be. It wascriminal to stay calmly in one spot and make no effort to staydestruction. He loitered in a fever of eagerness for the divisioncommander to apply to him. 

As he warily moved about, he heard the general call out irritably:"Tompkins, go over an' see Taylor, an' tell him not t' be in such anall-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 wedon't help it out some; tell him t' hurry up. "

A slim youth on a fine chestnut horse caught these swift words from themouth of his superior. He made his horse bound into a gallop almostfrom a walk in his haste to go upon his mission. There was a cloud ofdust. 

A moment later the youth saw the general bounce excitedly in his saddle. 

"Yes, by heavens, they have!" The officer leaned forward. His facewas aflame with excitement. "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 anaide: "Here--you--Jons--quick--ride after Tompkins--see Taylor--tellhim t' go in--everlastingly--like blazes--anything. "

As another officer sped his horse after the first messenger, thegeneral beamed upon the earth like a sun. In his eyes was a desire tochant a paean. He kept repeating, "They 've held 'em, by heavens!"

His excitement made his horse plunge, and he merrily kicked and sworeat it. He held a little carnival of joy on horseback. 

Chapter 7

The youth cringed as if discovered in a crime. By heavens, they hadwon after all! The imbecile line had remained and become victors. Hecould hear cheering. 

He lifted himself upon his toes and looked in the direction of thefight. A yellow fog lay wallowing on the treetops. From beneath itcame 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 annihilation approached. He haddone 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 dutyof every little piece to rescue itself if possible. Later the officerscould fit the little pieces together again, and make a battle front. If none of the little pieces were wise enough to save themselves fromthe flurry of death at such a time, why, then, where would be the army?It was all plain that he had proceeded according to very correct andcommendable rules. His actions had been sagacious things. They hadbeen full of strategy. They were the work of a master's legs. 

Thoughts of his comrades came to him. The brittle blue line hadwithstood the blows and won. He grew bitter over it. It seemed thatthe blind ignorance and stupidity of those little pieces had betrayedhim. He had been overturned and crushed by their lack of sense inholding the position, when intelligent deliberation would haveconvinced them that it was impossible. He, the enlightened man wholooks afar in the dark, had fled because of his superior perceptionsand knowledge. He felt a great anger against his comrades. He knew itcould be proved that they had been fools. 

He wondered what they would remark when later he appeared in camp. Hismind heard howls of derision. Their density would not enable them tounderstand his sharper point of view. 

He began to pity himself acutely. He was ill used. He was troddenbeneath the feet of an iron injustice. He had proceeded with wisdomand from the most righteous motives under heaven's blue only to befrustrated by hateful circumstances. 

A dull, animal-like rebellion against his fellows, war in the abstract, and fate grew within him. He shambled along with bowed head, his brainin a tumult of agony and despair. When he looked loweringly up, quivering at each sound, his eyes had the expression of those of acriminal who thinks his guilt little and his punishment great, andknows that he can find no words. 

He went from the fields into a thick woods, as if resolved to buryhimself. He wished to get out of hearing of the crackling shots whichwere to him like voices. 

The ground was cluttered with vines and bushes, and the trees grewclose and spread out like bouquets. He was obliged to force his waywith much noise. The creepers, catching against his legs, cried outharshly as their sprays were torn from the barks of trees. Theswishing saplings tried to make known his presence to the world. Hecould not conciliate the forest. As he made his way, it was alwayscalling out protestations. When he separated embraces of trees andvines the disturbed foliages waved their arms and turned their faceleaves toward him. He dreaded lest these noisy motions and criesshould bring men to look at him. So he went far, seeking dark andintricate places. 

After a time the sound of musketry grew faint and the cannon boomed inthe distance. The sun, suddenly apparent, blazed among the trees. Theinsects were making rhythmical noises. They seemed to be grindingtheir teeth in unison. A woodpecker stuck his impudent head around theside 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 wasthe religion of peace. It would die if its timid eyes were compelledto see blood. He conceived Nature to be a woman with a deep aversionto tragedy. 

He threw a pine cone at a jovial squirrel, and he ran with chatteringfear. High in a treetop he stopped, and, poking his head cautiouslyfrom behind a branch, looked down with an air of trepidation. 

The youth felt triumphant at this exhibition. There was the law, hesaid. Nature had given him a sign. The squirrel, immediately uponrecognizing danger, had taken to his legs without ado. He did notstand stolidly baring his furry belly to the missile, and die with anupward glance at the sympathetic heavens. On the contrary, he had fledas fast as his legs could carry him; and he was but an ordinarysquirrel, too--doubtless no philosopher of his race. The youth wended, feeling that Nature was of his mind. She re-enforced his argument withproofs that lived where the sun shone. 

Once he found himself almost into a swamp. He was obliged to walk uponbog tufts and watch his feet to keep from the oily mire. Pausing atone time to look about him he saw, out at some black water, a smallanimal pounce in and emerge directly with a gleaming fish. 

The youth went again into the deep thickets. The brushed branches madea noise that drowned the sounds of cannon. He walked on, going fromobscurity into promises of a greater obscurity. 

At length he reached a place where the high, arching boughs made achapel. He softly pushed the green doors aside and entered. Pineneedles were a gentle brown carpet. There was a religious 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 backagainst a columnlike tree. The corpse was dressed in a uniform thathad once been blue, but was now faded to a melancholy shade of green. The eyes, staring at the youth, had changed to the dull hue to be seenon the side of a dead fish. The mouth was open. Its red had changedto an appalling yellow. Over the gray skin of the face ran littleants. One was trundling some sort of bundle along the upper lip. 

The youth gave a shriek as he confronted the thing. He was for momentsturned to stone before it. He remained staring into the liquid-lookingeyes. The dead man and the living man exchanged a long look. Then theyouth cautiously put one hand behind him and brought it against a tree. Leaning upon this he retreated, step by step, with his face stilltoward the thing. He feared that if he turned his back the body mightspring up and stealthily pursue him. 

The branches, pushing against him, threatened to throw him over uponit. His unguided feet, too, caught aggravatingly in brambles; and withit all he received a subtle suggestion to touch the corpse. As hethought 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 underbrush. He was pursued by the sight of black antsswarming greedily upon the gray face and venturing horribly near to theeyes. 

After a time he paused, and, breathless and panting, listened. Heimagined some strange voice would come from the dead throat and squawkafter him in horrible menaces. 

The trees about the portal of the chapel moved soughingly in a softwind. A sad silence was upon the little guarding edifice. 

Chapter 8

The trees began softly to sing a hymn of twilight. The sun sank untilslanted bronze rays struck the forest. There was a lull in the noisesof insects as if they had bowed their beaks and were making adevotional pause. There was silence save for the chanted chorus of thetrees. 

Then, upon this stillness, there suddenly broke a tremendous clangor ofsounds. A crimson roar came from the distance. 

The youth stopped. He was transfixed by this terrific medley of allnoises. It was as if worlds were being rended. There was the rippingsound of musketry and the breaking crash of the artillery. 

His mind flew in all directions. He conceived the two armies to be ateach other panther fashion. He listened for a time. Then he began torun in the direction of the battle. He saw that it was an ironicalthing for him to be running thus toward that which he had been at suchpains to avoid. But he said, in substance, to himself that if theearth and the moon were about to clash, many persons would doubtlessplan to get upon the roofs to witness the collision. 

As he ran, he became aware that the forest had stopped its music, as ifat last becoming capable of hearing the foreign sounds. The treeshushed and stood motionless. Everything seemed to be listening to thecrackle and clatter and earthshaking thunder. The chorus peaked overthe still earth. 

It suddenly occurred to the youth that the fight in which he had beenwas, after all, but perfunctory popping. In the hearing of thispresent din he was doubtful if he had seen real battle scenes. Thisuproar explained a celestial battle; it was tumbling hordes a-strugglein the air. 

Reflecting, he saw a sort of a humor in the point of view of himselfand his fellows during the late encounter. They had taken themselvesand the enemy very seriously and had imagined that they were decidingthe war. Individuals must have supposed that they were cutting theletters of their names deep into everlasting tablets of brass, orenshrining their reputations forever in the hearts of their countrymen, while, as to fact, the affair would appear in printed reports under ameek 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 thathe might peer out. 

As he hastened, there passed through his mind pictures of stupendousconflicts. His accumulated thought upon such subjects was used to formscenes. 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 topass. After its previous hostility this new resistance of the forestfilled him with a fine bitterness. It seemed that Nature could not bequite ready to kill him. 

But he obstinately took roundabout ways, and presently he was where hecould see long gray walls of vapor where lay battle lines. The voicesof cannon shook him. The musketry sounded in long irregular surgesthat played havoc with his ears. He stood regardant for a moment. Hiseyes had an awestruck expression. He gawked in the direction of thfight. 

Presently he proceeded again on his forward way. The battle was likethe grinding of an immense and terrible machine to him. Itscomplexities and powers, its grim processes, fascinated him. He mustgo close and see it produce corpses. 

He came to a fence and clambered over it. On the far side, the groundwas littered with clothes and guns. A newspaper, folded up, lay in thedirt. A dead soldier was stretched with his face hidden in his arm. Farther off there was a group of four or five corpses keeping mournfulcompany. A hot sun had blazed upon this spot. 

In this place the youth felt that he was an invader. This forgottenpart of the battle ground was owned by the dead men, and he hurried, inthe vague apprehension that one of the swollen forms would rise andtell him to begone. 

He came finally to a road from which he could see in the distance darkand agitated bodies of troops, smoke-fringed. In the lane was ablood-stained crowd streaming to the rear. The wounded men werecursing, groaning, and wailing. In the air, always, was a mighty swellof sound that it seemed could sway the earth. With the courageouswords of the artillery and the spiteful sentences of the musketrymingled red cheers. And from this region of noises came the steadycurrent of the maimed. 

One of the wounded men had a shoeful of blood. He hopped like aschoolboy in a game. He was laughing hysterically. 

One was swearing that he had been shot in the arm through thecommanding general's mismanagement of the army. One was marching withan air imitative of some sublime drum major. Upon his features was anunholy mixture of merriment and agony. As he marched he sang a bit ofdoggerel 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 lipswere curled in hard lines and his teeth were clinched. His hands werebloody from where he had pressed them upon his wound. He seemed to beawaiting the moment when he should pitch headlong. He stalked like thespecter of a soldier, his eyes burning with the power of a stare intothe 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'tjoggle so, Johnson, yeh fool, " he cried. "Think m' leg is made ofiron? If yeh can't carry me decent, put me down an' let some one elsedo it. "

He bellowed at the tottering crowd who blocked the quick march of hisbearers. "Say, make way there, can't yeh? Make way, dickens take itall. "

They sulkily parted and went to the roadsides. As he was carried pastthey made pert remarks to him. When he raged in reply and threatenedthem, they told him to be damned. 

The shoulder of one of the tramping bearers knocked heavily against thespectral soldier who was staring into the unknown. 

The youth joined this crowd and marched along with it. The torn bodiesexpressed the awful machinery in which the men had been entangled. 

Orderlies and couriers occasionally broke through the throng in theroadway, scattering wounded men right and left, galloping on followedby howls. The melancholy march was continually disturbed by themessengers, and sometimes by bustling batteries that came swinging andthumping down upon them, the officers shouting orders to clear the way. 

There was a tattered man, fouled with dust, blood and powder stain fromhair to shoes, who trudged quietly at the youth's side. He waslistening with eagerness and much humility to the lurid descriptions ofa bearded sergeant. His lean features wore an expression of awe andadmiration. He was like a listener in a country store to wondroustales told among the sugar barrels. He eyed the story-teller withunspeakable wonder. His mouth was agape in yokel fashion. 

The sergeant, taking note of this, gave pause to his elaborate historywhile he administered a sardonic comment. "Be keerful, honey, you 'llbe 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 diffidentway try to make him a friend. His voice was gentle as a girl's voiceand his eyes were pleading. The youth saw with surprise that thesoldier 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 musteredsufficient courage to speak. "Was pretty good fight, wa'n't it?" hetimidly said. The youth, deep in thought, glanced up at the bloody andgrim figure with its lamblike eyes. "What?"

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

"Yes, " said the youth shortly. He quickened his pace. 

But the other hobbled industriously after him. There was an air ofapology in his manner, but he evidently thought that he needed only totalk 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 thehe achieved the fortitude to continue. "Dern me if I ever see fellersfight so. Laws, how they did fight! I knowed th' boys 'd like it whenthey 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 outthis way. Yeh can't lick them boys. No, sir! They 're fighters, theybe. "

He breathed a deep breath of humble admiration. He had looked at theyouth for encouragement several times. He received none, but graduallyhe seemed to get absorbed in his subject. 

"I was talkin' 'cross pickets with a boy from Georgie, onct, an' thatboy, he ses, 'Your fellers 'll all run like hell when they onct hearn agun, ' he ses. 'Mebbe they will, ' I ses, 'but I don't b'lieve none ofit, ' I ses; 'an' b'jiminey, ' I ses back t' 'um, 'mebbe your fellers 'llall 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 whichwas to him all things beautiful and powerful. 

After a time he turned to the youth. "Where yeh hit, ol' boy?" heasked in a brotherly tone. 

The youth felt instant panic at this question, although at first itsfull 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 washeavily flushed, and his fingers were picking nervously at one of hisbuttons. He bent his head and fastened his eyes studiously upon thebutton as if it were a little problem. 

The tattered man looked after him in astonishment. 

Chapter 9

The youth fell back in the procession until the tattered soldier wasnot in sight. Then he started to walk on with the others. 

But he was amid wounds. The mob of men was bleeding. Because of thetattered soldier's question he now felt that his shame could be viewed. He was continually casting sidelong glances to see if the men werecontemplating the letters of guilt he felt burned into his brow. 

At times he regarded the wounded soldiers in an envious way. Heconceived persons with torn bodies to be peculiarly happy. He wishedthat he, too, had a wound, a red badge of courage. 

The spectral soldier was at his side like a stalking reproach. Theman's eyes were still fixed in a stare into the unknown. His gray, appalling face had attracted attention in the crowd, and men, slowingto his dreary pace, were walking with him. They were discussing hisplight, questioning him and giving him advice. In a dogged way herepelled them, signing to them to go on and leave him alone. Theshadows of his face were deepening and his tight lips seemed holding incheck the moan of great despair. There could be seen a certainstiffness in the movements of his body, as if he were taking infinitecare not to arouse the passion of his wounds. As he went on, he seemedalways looking for a place, like one who goes to choose a grave. 

Something in the gesture of the man as he waved the bloody and pityingsoldiers 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 thelatter slowly turned his waxlike features toward him the youth screamed:

"Gawd! Jim Conklin!"

The tall soldier made a little commonplace smile. "Hello, Henry, " hesaid. 

The youth swayed on his legs and glared strangely. He stuttered andstammered. "Oh, Jim--oh, Jim--oh, Jim--"

The tall soldier held out his gory hand. There was a curious red andblack combination of new blood and old blood upon it. "Where yeh been, Henry?" he asked. He continued in a monotonous voice, "I thought mebbeyeh got keeled over. There 's been thunder t' pay t'-day. I wasworryin' 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 acareful gesture. "An', Lord, what a circus! An', b'jiminey, I gotshot--I got shot. Yes, b'jiminey, I got shot. " He reiterated thisfact 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 soldierwent firmly as if propelled. Since the youth's arrival as a guardianfor his friend, the other wounded men had ceased to display muchinterest. They occupied themselves again in dragging their owntragedies toward the rear. 

Suddenly, as the two friends marched on, the tall soldier seemed to beovercome by a tremor. His face turned to a semblance of gray paste. He clutched the youth's arm and looked all about him, as if dreading tobe 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 'fraidof. I 'm 'fraid I 'll fall down--an' them yeh know--them damnedartillery 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 theyouth. He could not speak accurately because of the gulpings in histhroat. 

But the tall soldier continued to beg in a lowly way. He now hungbabelike to the youth's arm. His eyes rolled in the wildness of histerror. "I was allus a good friend t' yeh, wa'n't I, Henry? I 'veallus been a pretty good feller, ain't I? An' it ain't much t' ask, isit? Jest t' pull me along outer th' road? I'd do it fer you, wouldn'tI, Henry?"

He paused in piteous anxiety to await his friend's reply. 

The youth had reached an anguish where the sobs scorched him. Hestrove to express his loyalty, but he could only make fantasticgestures. 

However, the tall soldier seemed suddenly to forget all those fears. He became again the grim, stalking specter of a soldier. He wentstonily forward. The youth wished his friend to lean upon him, but theother 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 mysteriouspurpose, 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 shoulder. Turning he saw that it belonged to the tattered soldier. "Ye'd bettertake 'im outa th' road, pardner. There's a batt'ry comin' helitywhoopdown th' road an' he 'll git runned over. He 's a goner anyhow inabout five minutes--yeh kin see that. Ye 'd better take 'im outa th'road. Where th' blazes does hi 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 saidvacantly. He stared at the youth for a moment. At last he spoke as ifdimly comprehending. "Oh! Inteh th' fields? Oh!"

He started blindly through the grass. 

The youth turned once to look at the lashing riders and jouncing gunsof the battery. He was startled from this view by a shrill outcry fromthe tattered man. 

"Gawd! He's runnin'!"

Turning his head swiftly, the youth saw his friend running in astaggering and stumbling way toward a little clump of bushes. Hisheart 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 wordshe could find. "Jim--Jim--what are you doing--what makes you do thisway--you'll hurt yerself. "

The same purpose was in the tall soldier's face. He protested in adulled way, keeping his eyes fastened on the mystic place of hisintentions. "No--no--don't tech me--leave me be--leave me be--"

The youth, aghast and filled with wonder at the tall soldier, beganquaveringly to question him. "Where yeh goin', Jim? What you thinkingabout? Where you going? Tell me, won't you, Jim?"

The tall soldier faced about as upon relentless pursuers. In his eyesthere was a great appeal. "Leave me be, can't yeh? Leave me be for aminnit. "

The youth recoiled. "Why, Jim, " he said, in a dazed way, "what 's thematter with you?"

The tall soldier turned and, lurching dangerously, went on. The youthand the tattered soldier followed, sneaking as if whipped, feelingunable to face the stricken man if he should again confront them. Theybegan to have thoughts of a solemn ceremony. There was somethingrite-like in these movements of the doomed soldier. And there was aresemblance in him to a devotee of a mad religion, blood-sucking, muscle-wrenching, bone-crushing. They were awed and afraid. They hungback lest he have at command a dreadful weapon. 

At last, they saw him stop and stand motionless. Hastening up, theyperceived that his face wore an expression telling that he had at lastfound the place for which he had struggled. His spare figure waserect; his bloody hands were quietly at his side. He was waiting withpatience for something that he had come to meet. He was at therendezvous. They paused and stood, expectant. 

There was a silence. 

Finally, the chest of the doomed soldier began to heave with a strainedmotion. It increased in violence until it was as if an animal waswithin and was kicking and tumbling furiously to be free. 

This spectacle of gradual strangulation made the youth writhe, and onceas his friend rolled his eyes, he saw something in them that made himsink 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. "Leaveme 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 aprolonged ague. He stared into space. To the two watchers there was acurious 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 ofhideous hornpipe. His arms beat wildly about his head in expression ofimplike enthusiasm. 

His tall figure stretched itself to its full height. There was aslight rending sound. Then it began to swing forward, slow andstraight, in the manner of a falling tree. A swift muscular contortionmade the left shoulder strike the ground first. 

The body seemed to bounce a little way from the earth. "God!" said thetattered soldier. 

The youth had watched, spellbound, this ceremony at the place ofmeeting. His face had been twisted into an expression of every agonyhe had imagined for his friend. 

He now sprang to his feet and, going closer, gazed upon the pastelikeface. 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 seethat the side looked as if it had been chewed by wolves. 

The youth turned, with sudden, livid rage, toward the battlefield. Heshook his fist. He seemed about to deliver a philippic. 

"Hell--"

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

Chapter 10

The tattered man stood musing. 

"Well, he was a reg'lar jim-dandy fer nerve, wa'n't he, " said hefinally in a little awestruck voice. "A reg'lar jim-dandy. " Hethoughtfully poked one of the docile hands with his foot. "I wonnerwhere he got 'is stren'th from? I never seen a man do like thatbefore. 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 histongue lay dead in the tomb of his mouth. He threw himself again uponthe ground and began to brood. 

The tattered man stood musing. 

"Look-a-here, pardner, " he said, after a time. He regarded the corpseas he spoke. "He 's up an' gone, ain't 'e, an' we might as well begint' look out fer ol' number one. This here thing is all over. He 's upan' 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 thesedays. "

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 facehad 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 issome 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 lefthim over there. " He pointed. "And now I find 'im here. And he wascoming from over there, too. " He indicated a new direction. They bothturned toward the body as if to ask of it a question. 

"Well, " at length spoke the tattered man, "there ain't no use in ourstayin' here an' tryin' t' ask him anything. "

The youth nodded an assent wearily. They both turned to gaze for amoment at the corpse. 

The youth murmured something. 

"Well, he was a jim-dandy, wa'n't 'e?" said the tattered man as if inresponse. 

They turned their backs upon it and started away. For a time theystole softly, treading with their toes. It remained laughing there inthe grass. 

"I'm commencin' t' feel pretty bad, " said the tattered man, suddenlybreaking one of his little silences. "I'm commencin' t' feel prettydamn' bad. "

The youth groaned. "Oh Lord!" He wondered if he was to be thetortured witness of another grim encounter. 

But his companion waved his hand reassuringly. "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 smilethat he was making some kind of fun. 

As the plodded on the tattered soldier continued to talk. "Besides, ifI died, I wouldn't die th' way that feller did. That was th' funniestthing. I'd jest flop down, I would. I never seen a feller die th' waythat feller did. 

"Yeh know Tom Jamison, he lives next door t' me up home. He's a nicefeller, he is, an' we was allus good friends. Smart, too. Smart as asteel trap. Well, when we was a-fightin' this atternoon, all-of-a-sudden he begin t' rip up an' cuss an' beller at me. 'Yershot, yeh blamed infernal!'--he swear horrible--he ses t' me. I put upm' 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 Icould 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 runt' beat all, but I cotch it pretty bad. I've an idee I'd a beenfightin' yit, if t'was n't fer Tom Jamison. "

Then he made a calm announcement: "There's two of 'em--littleones--but they 're beginnin' t' have fun with me now. I don't b'lieveI 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 thanyeh think. Ye'd better take keer of yer hurt. It don't do t' let sechthings go. It might be inside mostly, an' them plays thunder. Whereis it located?" But he continued his harangue without waiting for areply. "I see a feller git hit plum in th' head when my reg'ment wasa-standin' at ease onct. An' everybody yelled to 'im: 'Hurt, John?Are yeh hurt much?' 'No, ' ses he. He looked kinder surprised, an' hewent 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 wasdead--stone dead. So, yeh wanta watch out. Yeh might have some queerkind 'a hurt yerself. Yeh can't never tell. Where is your'n located?"

The youth had been wriggling since the introduction of this topic. Henow gave a cry of exasperation and made a furious motion with his hand. "Oh, don't bother me!" he said. He was enraged against the tatteredman, and could have strangled him. His companions seemed ever to playintolerable parts. They were ever upraising the ghost of shame on thestick of their curiosity. He turned toward the tattered man as one atbay. "Now, don't bother me, " he repeated with desperate menace. 

"Well, Lord knows I don't wanta bother anybody, " said the other. Therewas a little accent of despair in his voice as he replied, "Lord knowsI 've gota 'nough m' own t' tend to. "

The youth, who had been holding a bitter debate with himself andcasting glances of hatred and contempt at the tattered man, here spokein 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 athim, could see that he, too, like that other one, was beginning to actdumb and animal-like. His thoughts seemed to be floundering about inhis head. "Now--now--look--a--here, you Tom Jamison--now--I won't havethis--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 inidiot fashion. His head was hanging forward and his words wereslurred. "This thing won't do, now, Tom Jamison. It won't do. I knowyeh, 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 takekeer of yeh, Tom Jamison. 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--itain't. "

In reply the youth climbed a fence and started away. He could hear thetattered 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 manwandering about helplessly in the field. 

He now thought that he wished he was dead. He believed he envied thosemen whose bodies lay strewn over the grass of the fields and on thefallen 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 isapparent. His late companion's chance persistency made him feel thathe could not keep his crime concealed in his bosom. It was sure to bebrought plain by one of those arrows which cloud the air and areconstantly pricking, discovering, proclaiming those things which arewilled to be forever hidden. He admitted that he could not defendhimself against this agency. It was not within the power of vigilance. 

Chapter 11

He became aware that the furnace roar of the battle was growing louder. Great blown clouds had floated to the still heights of air before him. The noise, too, was approaching. The woods filtered men and the fieldsbecame dotted. 

As he rounded a hillock, he perceived that the roadway was now a cryingmass of wagons, teams, and men. From the heaving tangle issuedexhortations, commands, imprecations. Fear was sweeping it all along. The cracking whips bit and horses plunged and tugged. The white-toppedwagons strained and stumbled in their exertions like fat sheep. 

The youth felt comforted in a measure by this sight. They were allretreating. Perhaps, then, he was not so bad after all. He seatedhimself and watched the terror-stricken wagons. They fled like soft, ungainly animals. All the roarers and lashers served to help him tomagnify the dangers and horrors of the engagement that he might try toprove to himself that the thing with which men could charge him was intruth a symmetrical act. There was an amount of pleasure to him inwatching the wild march of this vindication. 

Presently the calm head of a forward-going column of infantry appearedin the road. It came swiftly on. Avoiding the obstructions gave itthe sinuous movement of a serpent. The men at the head butted muleswith their musket stocks. They prodded teamsters indifferent to allhowls. The men forced their way through parts of the dense mass bystrength. The blunt head of the column pushed. The raving teamstersswore 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 toconfront the eager rush of the enemy. They felt the pride of theironward movement when the remainder of the army seemed trying to dribbledown this road. They tumbled teams about with a fine feeling that itwas no matter so long as their column got to the front in time. Thisimportance made their faces grave and stern. And the backs of theofficers were very rigid. 

As the youth looked at them the black weight of his woe returned tohim. He felt that he was regarding a procession of chosen beings. Theseparation was as great to him as if they had marched with weapons offlame and banners of sunlight. He could never be like them. He couldhave wept in his longings. 

He searched about in his mind for an adequate malediction for theindefinite cause, the thing upon which men turn the words of finalblame. It--whatever it was--was responsible for him, he said. Therelay the fault. 

The haste of the column to reach the battle seemed to the forlorn youngman to be something much finer than stout fighting. Heroes, hethought, could find excuses in that long seething lane. They couldretire with perfect self-respect and make excuses to the stars. 

He wondered what those men had eaten that they could be in such hasteto force their way to grim chances of death. As he watched his envygrew 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 offhimself and become a better. Swift pictures of himself, apart, yet inhimself, came to him--a blue desperate figure leading lurid chargeswith one knee forward and a broken blade high--a blue, determinedfigure standing before a crimson and steel assault, getting calmlykilled on a high place before the eyes of all. He thought of themagnificent pathos of his dead body. 

These thoughts uplifted him. He felt the quiver of war desire. In hisears, he heard the ring of victory. He knew the frenzy of a rapidsuccessful charge. The music of the trampling feet, the sharp voices, the clanking arms of the column near him made him soar on the red wingsof war. For a few moments he was sublime. 

He thought that he was about to start for the front. Indeed, he saw apicture of himself, dust-stained, haggard, panting, flying to the frontat the proper moment to seize and throttle the dark, leering witch ofcalamity. 

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 resentfullyto his plan. Well, rifles could be had for the picking. They wereextraordinarily 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 uponsome explosive thing. Doubts and he were struggling. 

He would truly be a worm if any of his comrades should see himreturning thus, the marks of his flight upon him. There was a replythat the intent fighters did not care for what happened rearward savingthat no hostile bayonets appeared there. In the battle-blur his facewould, in a way, be hidden, like the face of a cowled man. 

But then he said that his tireless fate would bring forth, when thestrife lulled for a moment, a man to ask of him an explanation. Inimagination he felt the scrutiny of his companions as he painfullylabored through some lies. 

Eventually, his courage expended itself upon these objections. Thedebates drained him of his fire. 

He was not cast down by this defeat of his plan, for, upon studying theaffair carefully, he could not but admit that the objections were veryformidable. 

Furthermore, various ailments had begun to cry out. In their presencehe could not persist in flying high with the wings of war; theyrendered it almost impossible for him to see himself in a heroic light. He tumbled headlong. 

He discovered that he had a scorching thirst. His face was so dry andgrimy that he thought he could feel his skin crackle. Each bone of hisbody had an ache in it, and seemingly threatened to break with eachmovement. His feet were like two sores. Also, his body was callingfor food. It was more powerful than a direct hunger. There was adull, weight-like feeling in his stomach, and, when he tried to walk, his head swayed and he tottered. He could not see with distinctness. Small patches of green mist floated before his vision. 

While he had been tossed by many emotions, he had not been aware ofailments. Now the beset him and made clamor. As he was at lastcompelled to pay attention to them, his capacity for self-hate wasmultiplied. 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. Hegroaned from his heart and went staggering off. 

A certain mothlike quality within him kept him in the vicinity of thebattle. He had a great desire to see, and to get news. He wished toknow who was winning. 

He told himself that, despite his unprecedented suffering, he had neverlost his greed for a victory, yet, he said, in a half-apologetic mannerto his conscience, he could not but know that a defeat for the armythis time might mean many favorable things for him. The blows of theenemy would splinter regiments into fragments. Thus, many men ofcourage, he considered, would be obliged to desert the colors andscurry like chickens. He would appear as one of them. They would besullen brothers in distress, and he could then easily believe he hadnot run any farther or faster than they. And if he himself couldbelieve in his virtuous perfection, he conceived that there would besmall trouble in convincing all others. 

He said, as if in excuse for this hope, that previously the army hadencountered great defeats and in a few months had shaken off all bloodand tradition of them, emerging as bright and valiant as a new one;thrusting out of sight the memory of disaster, and appearing with thevalor and confidence of unconquered legions. The shrilling voices ofthe people at home would pipe dismally for a time, but various generalwere usually compelled to listen to these ditties. He of course feltno compunctions for proposing a general as a sacrifice. He could nottell who the chosen for the barbs might be, so he could center nodirect sympathy upon him. The people were afar and he did not conceivepublic opinion to be accurate at long range. It was quite probablethey would hit the wrong man who, after he had recovered from hisamazement would perhaps spend the rest of his days in writing repliesto the songs of his alleged failure. It would be very unfortunate, nodoubt, but in this case a general was of no consequence to the youth. 

In a defeat there would be a roundabout vindication of himself. Hethought it would prove, in a manner, that he had fled early because ofhis superior powers of perception. A serious prophet upon predicting aflood should be the first man to climb a tree. This would demonstratethat he was indeed a seer. 

A moral vindication was regarded by the youth as a very importantthing. Without salve, he could not, he though, were the sore badge ofhis dishonor through life. With his heart continually assuring himthat he was despicable, he could not exist without making it, throughhis actions, apparent to all men. 

If the army had gone gloriously on he would be lost. If the din meantthat now his army's flags were tilted forward he was a condemnedwretch. He would be compelled to doom himself to isolation. If themen were advancing, their indifferent feet were trampling upon hischances for a successful life. 

As these thoughts went rapidly through his mind, he turned upon themand tried to thrust them away. He denounced himself as a villain. Hesaid that he was the most unutterably selfish man in existence. Hismind pictured the soldiers who would place their defiant bodies beforethe spear of the yelling battle fiend, and as he saw their drippingcorpses on an imagined field, he said that he was their murderer. 

Again he thought that he wished he was dead. He believed that heenvied a corpse. Thinking of the slain, he achieved a great contemptfor some of them, as if they were guilty for thus becoming lifeless. They might have been killed by lucky chances, he said, before they hadhad opportunities to flee or before they had been really tested. Yetthey would receive laurels from tradition. He cried out bitterly thattheir crowns were stolen and their robes of glorious memories wereshams. However, he still said that it was a great pity he was not asthey. 

A defeat of the army had suggested itself to him as a means of escapefrom the consequences of his fall. He considered, now, however, thatit was useless to think of such a possibility. His education had beenthat success for that might blue machine was certain; that it wouldmake victories as a contrivance turns out buttons. He presentlydiscarded all his speculations in the other direction. He returned tothe creed of soldiers. 

When he perceived again that it was not possible for the army to bedefeated, he tried to bethink him of a fine tale which he could takeback to his regiment, and with it turn the expected shafts of derision. 

But, as he mortally feared these shafts, it became impossible for himto invent a tale he felt he could trust. He experimented with manyschemes, but threw them aside one by one as flimsy. He was quick tosee vulnerable places in them all. 

Furthermore, he was much afraid that some arrow of scorn might lay himmentally low before he could raise his protecting tale. 

He imagined the whole regiment saying: "Where's Henry Fleming? Herun, didn't 'e? Oh, my!" He recalled various persons who would bequite sure to leave him no peace about it. They would doubtlessquestion him with sneers, and laugh at his stammering hesitation. Inthe next engagement they would try to keep watch of him to discoverwhen he would run. 

Wherever he went in camp, he would encounter insolent and lingeringlycruel stares. As he imagined himself passing near a crowd of comrades, he could hear one say, "There he goes!"

Then, as if the heads were moved by one muscle, all the faces wereturned toward him with wide, derisive grins. He seemed to hear someone make a humorous remark in a low tone. At it the others all crowedand cackled. He was a slang phrase. 

Chapter 12

The column that had butted stoutly at the obstacles in the roadway wasbarely out of the youth's sight before he saw dark waves of men comesweeping out of the woods and down through the fields. He knew at oncethat the steel fibers had been washed from their hearts. They werebursting 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, andthrough the thickets he could sometimes see a distant pink glare. Thevoices of the cannon were clamoring in interminable chorus. 

The youth was horrorstricken. He stared in agony and amazement. Heforgot that he was engaged in combating the universe. He threw asidehis mental pamphlets on the philosophy of the retreated and rules forthe guidance of the damned. 

The fight was lost. The dragons were coming with invincible strides. The army, helpless in the matted thickets and blinded by theoverhanging 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 arallying speech, to sing a battle hymn, but he could only get histongue 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 allabout him. Their blanched faces shone in the dusk. They seemed, forthe most part, to be very burly men. The youth turned from one toanother of them as they galloped along. His incoherent questions werelost. 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 hadlost a child. He wept in his pain and dismay. 

Presently, men were running hither and thither in all ways. Theartillery booming, forward, rearward, and on the flanks made jumble ofideas of direction. Landmarks had vanished into the gathered gloom. The youth began to imagine that he had got into the center of thetremendous quarrel, and he could perceive no way out of it. From themouths of the fleeing men came a thousand wild questions, but no onemade answers. 

The youth, after rushing about and throwing interrogations at theheedless bands of retreating infantry, finally clutched a man by thearm. They swung around face to face. 

"Why--why--" stammered the youth struggling with his balking tongue. 

The man screamed: "Let go me! Let go me!" His face was livid and hiseyes were rolling uncontrolled. He was heaving and panting. He stillgrasped his rifle, perhaps having forgotten to release his hold uponit. He tugged frantically, and the youth being compelled to leanforward 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 fiercelyswung 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. Theenergy was smitten from his muscles. He saw the flaming wings oflightning flash before his vision. There was a deafening rumble ofthunder within his head. 

Suddenly his legs seemed to die. He sank writhing to the ground. Hetried to arise. In his efforts against the numbing pain he was like aman wrestling with a creature of the air. 

There was a sinister struggle. 

Sometimes he would achieve a position half erect, battle with the airfor a moment, and then fall again, grabbing at the grass. His face wasof a clammy pallor. Deep groans were wrenched from him. 

At last, with a twisting movement, he got upon his hands and knees, andfrom thence, like a babe trying to walk, to his feet. Pressing hishands to his temples he went lurching over the grass. 

He fought an intense battle with his body. His dulled senses wishedhim to swoon and he opposed them stubbornly, his mind portrayingunknown dangers and mutilations if he should fall upon the field. Hewent tall soldier fashion. He imagined secluded spots where he couldfall and be unmolested. To search for one he strove against the tideof pain. 

Once he put his hand to the top of his head and timidly touched thewound. The scratching pain of the contact made him draw a long breaththrough his clinched teeth. His fingers were dabbled with blood. Heregarded them with a fixed stare. 

Around him he could hear the grumble of jolted cannon as the scurryinghorses were lashed toward the front. Once, a young officer on abesplashed charger nearly ran him down. He turned and watched the massof guns, men, and horses sweeping in a wide curve toward a gap in afence. The officer was making excited motions with a gauntleted hand. The guns followed the teams with an air of unwillingness, of beingdragged by the heels. 

Some officers of the scattered infantry were cursing and railing likefishwives. Their scolding voices could be heard above the din. Intothe unspeakable jumble in the roadway rode a squadron of cavalry. Thefaded yellow of their facings shone bravely. There was a mightyaltercation. 

The artillery were assembling as if for a conference. 

The blue haze of evening was upon the field. The lines of forest werelong purple shadows. One cloud lay along the western sky partlysmothering the red. 

As the youth left the scene behind him, he heard the guns suddenly roarout. He imagined them shaking in black rage. They belched and howledlike brass devils guarding a gate. The soft air was filled with thetremendous remonstrance. With it came the shattering peal of opposinginfantry. Turning to look behind him, he could see sheets of orangelight illumine the shadowy distance. There were subtle and suddenlightnings in the far air. At times he thought he could see heavingmasses of men. 

He hurried on in the dusk. The day had faded until he could barelydistinguish place for his feet. The purple darkness was filled withmen who lectured and jabbered. Sometimes he could see themgesticulating against the blue and somber sky. There seemed to be agreat ruck of men and munitions spread about in the forest and in thefields. 

The little narrow roadway now lay lifeless. There were overturnedwagons like sun-dried bowlders. The bed of the former torrent waschoked with the bodies of horses and splintered parts of war machines. 

It had come to pass that his wound pained him but little. He wasafraid to move rapidly, however, for a dread of disturbing it. He heldhis head very still and took many precautions against stumbling. Hewas filled with anxiety, and his face was pinched and drawn inanticipation 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 acool, liquid feeling about it and he imagined blood moving slowly downunder his hair. His head seemed swollen to a size that made him thinkhis neck to be inadequate. 

The new silence of his wound made much worriment. The littleblistering voices of pain that had called out from his scalp were, hethought, definite in their expression of danger. By them he believedhe could measure his plight. But when they remained ominously silenthe became frightened and imagined terrible fingers that clutched intohis brain. 

Amid it he began to reflect upon various incidents and conditions ofthe past. He bethought him of certain meals his mother had cooked athome, in which those dishes of which he was particularly fond hadoccupied prominent positions. He saw the spread table. The pine wallsof the kitchen were glowing in the warm light from the stove. Too, heremembered how he and his companions used to go from the school-houseto the bank of a shaded pool. He saw his clothes in disorderly arrayupon the grass of the bank. He felt the swash of the fragrant waterupon his body. The leaves of the overhanging maple rustled with melodyin the wind of youthful summer. 

He was overcome presently by a dragging weariness. His head hungforward and his shoulders were stooped as if he were bearing a greatbundle. His feet shuffled along the ground. 

He held continuous arguments as to whether he should lie down and sleepat some near spot, or force himself on until he reached a certainhaven. He often tried to dismiss the question, but his body persistedin 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 apretty 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, " hesaid, 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 likea drunken man and his friend. 

As they went along, the man questioned the youth and assisted him withthe replies like one manipulating the mind of a child. Sometimes heinterjected anecdotes. "What reg'ment do yeh b'long teh? Eh? What 'sthat? 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 theirshare '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 tellt' 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 wefind our reg'ments t'-night. Pretty soon, though, we 'll meet a-plentyof guards an' provost-guards, an' one thing an' another. Ho! therethey go with an off'cer, I guess. Look at his hand a-draggin'. He 'sgot all th' war he wants, I bet. He won't be talkin' so big about hisreputation 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 overhere, 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'nyt'-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 menrunnin' 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' heses: 'Say, where 's th' road t' th' river?' An' Jack, he never paid noattention, 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 neverpaid no attention t' this big fat feller fer a long time, but at lasthe 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. Hewas a sergeant, too. Them was his last words. Thunder, I wish we wassure 'a findin' our reg'ments t'-night. It 's goin' t' be longhuntin'. But I guess we kin do it. "

In the search which followed, the man of the cheery voice seemed to theyouth to possess a wand of a magic kind. He threaded the mazes of thetangled forest with a strange fortune. In encounters with guards andpatrols he displayed the keenness of a detective and the valor of agamin. Obstacles fell before him and became of assistance. The youth, with his chin still on his breast, stood woodenly by while hiscompanion 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 conducted the youth without mistakes, until at lasthe began to chuckle with glee and self-satisfaction. "Ah, there yehare! 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 aninstant, and then he heard a cheerful and audacious whistling as theman strode away. As he who had so befriended him was thus passing outof his life, it suddenly occurred to the youth that he had not onceseen his face. 

Chapter 13

The youth went slowly toward the fire indicated by his departed friend. As he reeled, he bethought him of the welcome his comrades would givehim. He had a conviction that he would soon feel in his sore heart thebarbed missiles of ridicule. He had no strength to invent a tale; hewould be a soft target. 

He made vague plans to go off into the deeper darkness and hide, butthey were all destroyed by the voices of exhaustion and pain from hisbody. His ailments, clamoring, forced him to seek the place of foodand rest, at whatever cost. 

He swung unsteadily toward the fire. He could see the forms of menthrowing black shadows in the red light, and as he went nearer itbecame known to him in some way that the ground was strewn withsleeping men. 

Of a sudden he confronted a black and monstrous figure. A rifle barrelcaught some glinting beams. "Halt! halt!" He was dismayed for amoment, 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 soldiercame 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. " Therewas husky emotion in his voice. 

The youth found that now he could barely stand upon his feet. Therewas a sudden sinking of his forces. He thought he must hasten toproduce his tale to protect him from the missiles already on the lipsof his redoubtable comrades. So, staggering before the loud soldier, he began: "Yes, yes. I've--I've had an awful time. I've been allover. Way over on th' right. Ter'ble fightin' over there. I had anawful time. I got separated from the reg'ment. Over on th' right, Igot shot. In th' head. I never see sech fightin'. Awful time. Idon'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'tyeh say so first? Poor ol' boy, we must--hol' on a minnit; what am Idoin'. I'll call Simpson. "

Another figure at that moment loomed in the gloom. They could see thatit was the corporal. "Who yeh talkin' to, Wilson?" he demanded. Hisvoice was anger-toned. "Who yeh talkin' to? Yeh th' derndestsentinel--why--hello, Henry, you here? Why, I thought you was deadfour hours ago! Great Jerusalem, they keep turnin' up every tenminutes 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 backby mornin' yit. Where was yeh?"

"Over on th' right. I got separated"--began the youth withconsiderable 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 restedhis rifle in the hollow of his left arm and his right around theyouth's shoulder. 

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

The youth leaned heavily upon his friend. "Yes, it hurts--hurts a gooddeal, " he replied. There was a faltering in his voice. 

"Oh, " said the corporal. He linked his arm in the youth's and drew himforward. "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 mycanteen. It's full 'a coffee. Look at his head by th' fire an' seehow it looks. Maybe it's a pretty bad un. When I git relieved in acouple 'a minnits, I'll be over an' see t' him. "

The youth's senses were so deadened that his friend's voice soundedfrom afar and he could scarcely feel the pressure of the corporal'sarm. He submitted passively to the latter's directing strength. Hishead was in the old manner hanging forward upon his breast. His kneeswobbled. 

The corporal led him into the glare of the fire. "Now, Henry, " hesaid, "let's have look at yer ol' head. "

The youth sat obediently and the corporal, laying aside his rifle, began to fumble in the bushy hair of his comrade. He was obliged toturn the other's head so that the full flush of the fire light wouldbeam upon it. He puckered his mouth with a critical air. He drew backhis lips and whistled through his teeth when his fingers came incontact 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 aball. It's raised a queer lump jest as if some feller had lammed yehon th' head with a club. It stopped a-bleedin' long time ago. Th'most about it is that in th' mornin' yeh'll fell that a number ten hatwouldn't fit yeh. An' your head'll be all het up an' feel as dry asburnt pork. An' yeh may git a lot 'a other sicknesses, too, bymornin'. Yeh can't never tell. Still, I don't much think so. It'sjest a damn' good belt on th' head, an' nothin' more. Now, you jestsit here an' don't move, while I go rout out th' relief. Then I'llsend Wilson t' take keer 'a yeh. "

The corporal went away. The youth remained on the ground like aparcel. He stared with a vacant look into the fire. 

After a time he aroused, for some part, and the things about him beganto take form. He saw that the ground in the deep shadows was clutteredwith men, sprawling in every conceivable posture. Glancing narrowlyinto the more distant darkness, he caught occasional glimpses ofvisages that loomed pallid and ghostly, lit with a phosphorescent glow. These faces expressed in their lines the deep stupor of the tiredsoldiers. They made them appear like men drunk with wine. This bit offorest might have appeared to an ethereal wanderer as a scene of theresult 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 somethingperilous in his position. Badgered by dreams, perhaps, he swayed withlittle bounces and starts, like an old, toddy-stricken grandfather in achimney corner. Dust and stains were upon his face. His lower jawhung down as if lacking strength to assume its normal position. He wasthe picture of an exhausted soldier after a feast of war. 

He had evidently gone to sleep with his sword in his arms. These twohad slumbered in an embrace, but the weapon had been allowed in time tofall unheeded to the ground. The brass-mounted hilt lay in contactwith some parts of the fire. 

Within the gleam of rose and orange light from the burning sticks wereother soldiers, snoring and heaving, or lying deathlike in slumber. Afew pairs of legs were stuck forth, rigid and straight. The shoesdisplayed the mud or dust of marches and bits of rounded trousers, protruding from the blankets, showed rents and tears from hurriedpitchings through the dense brambles. 

The fire cackled musically. From it swelled light smoke. Overhead thefoliage moved softly. The leaves, with their faces turned toward theblaze, were colored shifting hues of silver, often edged with red. Faroff to the right, through a window in the forest could be seen ahandful of stars lying, like glittering pebbles, on the black level ofthe night. 

Occasionally, in this low-arched hall, a soldier would arouse and turnhis body to a new position, the experience of his sleep having taughthim of uneven and objectionable places upon the ground under him. Or, perhaps, he would lift himself to a sitting posture, blink at the firefor an unintelligent moment, throw a swift glance at his prostratecompanion, and then cuddle down again with a grunt of sleepy content. 

The youth sat in a forlorn heap until his friend the loud young soldiercame, swinging two canteens by their light strings. "Well, now, Henry, ol' boy, " said the latter, "we'll have yeh fixed up in jest about aminnit. "

He had the bustling ways of an amateur nurse. He fussed around thefire and stirred the sticks to brilliant exertions. He made hispatient drink largely from the canteen that contained the coffee. Itwas to the youth a delicious draught. He tilted his head afar back andheld the canteen long to his lips. The cool mixture went caressinglydown his blistered throat. Having finished, he sighed with comfortabledelight. 

The loud young soldier watched his comrade with an air of satisfaction. He later produced an extensive handkerchief from his pocket. He foldedit into a manner of bandage and soused water from the other canteenupon the middle of it. This crude arrangement he bound over theyouth'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 grateful eyes. Upon his achingand 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 blacksmith at takin' keer 'a sick folks, an' yeh neversqueaked. 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 hisjacket. 

"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 amongthe sleeping forms lying in groups and rows. Presently he stooped andpicked up his blankets. He spread the rubber one upon the ground andplaced 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 obedience, got carefully downlike a crone stooping. He stretched out with a murmur of relief andcomfort. 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 bemakin' a damn' fool 'a yerself, " he said severely. 

After the reproof the youth said no more. An exquisite drowsiness hadspread through him. The warm comfort of the blanket enveloped him andmade a gentle langour. His head fell forward on his crooked arm andhis weighted lids went softly down over his eyes. Hearing a splatterof musketry from the distance, he wondered indifferently if those mensometimes slept. He gave a long sigh, snuggled down into his blanket, and in a moment was like his comrades. 

Chapter 14

When the youth awoke it seemed to him that he had been asleep for athousand years, and he felt sure that he opened his eyes upon anunexpected world. Gray mists were slowly shifting before the firstefforts of the sun rays. An impending splendor could be seen in theeastern sky. An icy dew had chilled his face, and immediately uponarousing he curled farther down into his blanket. He stared for awhile 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 ithad not began and was not to cease. 

About him were the rows and groups of men that he had dimly seen theprevious night. They were getting a last draught of sleep before theawakening. The gaunt, careworn features and dusty figures were madeplain by this quaint light at the dawning, but it dressed the skin ofthe men in corpse-like hues and made the tangled limbs appear pulselessand dead. The youth started up with a little cry when his eyes firstswept over this motionless mass of men, thick-spread upon the ground, pallid, and in strange postures. His disordered mind interpreted thehall of the forest as a charnel place. He believed for an instant thathe was in the house of the dead, and he did not dare to move lest thesecorpses start up, squalling and squawking. In a second, however, heachieved his proper mind. He swore a complicated oath at himself. Hesaw that this somber picture was not a fact of the present, but a mereprophecy. 

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 smallblaze. A few other figures moved in the fog, and he heard the hardcracking of axe blows. 

Suddenly there was a hollow rumble of drums. A distant bugle sangfaintly. Similar sounds, varying in strength, came from near and farover the forest. The bugles called to each other like brazengamecocks. The near thunder of the regimental drums rolled. 

The body of men in the woods rustled. There was a general uplifting ofheads. A murmuring of voices broke upon the air. In it there was muchbass of grumbling oaths. Strange gods were addressed in condemnationof the early hours necessary to correct war. An officer's peremptorytenor rang out and quickened the stiffened movement of the men. Thetangled limbs unraveled. The corpse-hued faces were hidden behindfists that twisted slowly in the eye sockets. 

The youth sat up and gave vent to an enormous yawn. "Thunder!" heremarked petulantly. He rubbed his eyes, and then putting up his handfelt carefully the bandage over his wound. His friend, perceiving himto be awake, came from the fire. "Well, Henry, ol' man, how do yehfeel 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 anunpleasant sensation at his stomach. 

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

"Thunder!" exclaimed the other. "I hoped ye'd feel all right thismornin'. Let's see th' bandage--I guess it's slipped. " He began totinker 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 Iever saw! You wear muffs on your hands. Why in good thunderationcan't you be more easy? I'd rather you'd stand off an' throw guns atit. 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 answeredsoothingly. "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 wantswith tenderness and care. He was very busy marshaling the little blackvagabonds of tin cups and pouring into them the streaming iron coloredmixture from a small and sooty tin pail. He had some fresh meat, whichhe roasted hurriedly on a stick. He sat down then and contemplated theyouth's appetite with glee. 

The youth took note of a remarkable change in his comrade since thosedays of camp life upon the river bank. He seemed no more to becontinually regarding the proportions of his personal prowess. He wasnot furious at small words that pricked his conceits. He was no more aloud young soldier. There was about him now a fine reliance. Heshowed a quiet belief in his purposes and his abilities. And thisinward confidence evidently enabled him to be indifferent to littlewords of other men aimed at him. 

The youth reflected. He had been used to regarding his comrade as ablatant child with an audacity grown from his inexperience, thoughtless, headstrong, jealous, and filled with a tinsel courage. Aswaggering babe accustomed to strut in his own dooryard. The youthwondered where had been born these new eyes; when his comrade had madethe great discovery that there were many men who would refuse to besubjected by him. Apparently, the other had now climbed a peak ofwisdom from which he could perceive himself as a very wee thing. Andthe youth saw that ever after it would be easier to live in hisfriend'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 wallop'em?"

The youth considered for a moment. "Day-b'fore-yesterday, " he finallyreplied, with boldness, "you would 'a' bet you'd lick the hullkit-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 thefire. 

The youth was quite disconcerted at this surprising reception of hisremarks. "Oh, no, you wouldn't either, " he said, hastily trying toretrace. 

But the other made a deprecating gesture. "Oh, yeh needn't mind, Henry, " he said. "I believe I was a pretty big fool in those days. " Hespoke 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, " saidthe friend, clearing his throat in a commonplace way. "They all seemt' 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, itlooked as if we was gettin' a good poundin' yestirday. "

"D'yeh think so?" inquired the friend. "I thought we handled 'empretty rough yestirday. "

"Not a bit, " said the youth. "Why, lord, man, you didn't see nothingof the fight. Why!" Then a sudden thought came to him. "Oh! JimConklin'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 surrounded by men with theirlittle black utensils. From one of these near came sudden sharp voicesin a row. It appeared that two light-footed soldiers had been teasinga huge, bearded man, causing him to spill coffee upon his blue knees. The man had gone into a rage and had sworn comprehensively. Stung byhis language, his tormentors had immediately bristled at him with agreat show of resenting unjust oaths. Possibly there was going to be afight. 

The friend arose and went over to them, making pacific motions with hisarms. "Oh, here, now, boys, what's th' use?" he said. "We'll be atth' 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'tapprove 'a fightin' since Charley Morgan licked yeh; but I don't seewhat 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 accusativeforefingers. 

The huge soldier was quite purple with rage. He pointed at the twosoldiers with his great hand, extended clawlike. "Well, they--"

But during this argumentative time the desire to deal blows seemed topass, although they said much to each other. Finally the friendreturned to his old seat. In a short while the three antagonists couldbe 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'tallow 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 yehwas. I remember when you an' that Irish feller--" He stopped andlaughed 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 yestirday, " remarked the friendeventually. "I thought 'a course they was all dead, but, laws, theykep' a-comin' back last night until it seems, after all, we didn't losebut a few. They'd been scattered all over, wanderin' around in th'woods, fightin' with other reg'ments, an' everything. Jest like youdone. "

"So?" said the youth. 

Chapter 15

The regiment was standing at order arms at the side of a lane, waitingfor the command to march, when suddenly the youth remembered the littlepacket enwrapped in a faded yellow envelope which the loud youngsoldier with lugubrious 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 thoughtfully staring down theroad. From some cause his expression was at that moment very meek. The youth, regarding him with sidelong glances, felt impelled to changehis purpose. "Oh, nothing, " 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 was sufficient that thefact made him glad. It was not necessary to knock his friend on thehead with the misguided packet. 

He had been possessed of much fear of his friend, for he saw how easilyquestionings could make holes in his feelings. Lately, he had assuredhimself that the altered comrade would not tantalize him with apersistent curiosity, but he felt certain that during the first periodof leisure his friend would ask him to relate his adventures of theprevious day. 

He now rejoiced in the possession of a small weapon with which he couldprostrate his comrade at the first signs of a cross-examination. Hewas master. It would now be he who could laugh and shoot the shafts ofderision. 

The friend had, in a weak hour, spoken with sobs of his own death. Hehad delivered a melancholy oration previous to his funeral, and haddoubtless in the packet of letters, presented various keepsakes torelatives. But he had not died, and thus he had delivered himself intothe hands of the youth. 

The latter felt immensely superior to his friend, but he inclined tocondescension. He adopted toward him an air of patronizing good humor. 

His self-pride was now entirely restored. In the shade of itsflourishing growth he stood with braced and self-confident legs, andsince nothing could now be discovered he did not shrink from anencounter with the eyes of judges, and allowed no thoughts of his ownto keep him from an attitude of manfulness. He had performed hismistakes in the dark, so he was still a man. 

Indeed, when he remembered his fortunes of yesterday, and looked atthem from a distance he began to see something fine there. He hadlicense 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 andthe damned who roared with sincerity at circumstance. Few but theyever did it. A man with a full stomach and the respect of his fellowshad no business to scold about anything that he might think to be wrongin the ways of the universe, or even with the ways of society. Let theunfortunates rail; the others may play marbles. 

He did not give a great deal of thought to these battles that laydirectly before him. It was not essential that he should plan his waysin regard to them. He had been taught that many obligations of a lifewere easily avoided. The lessons of yesterday had been thatretribution was a laggard and blind. With these facts before him hedid not deem it necessary that he should become feverish over thepossibilities of the ensuing twenty-four hours. He could leave much tochance. Besides, a faith in himself had secretly blossomed. There wasa little flower of confidence growing within him. He was now a man ofexperience. He had been out among the dragons, he said, and he assuredhimself that they were not so hideous as he had imagined them. Also, they were inaccurate; they did not sting with precision. A stout heartoften defied, and defying, escaped. 

And, furthermore, how could they kill him who was the chosen of godsand doomed to greatness?

He remembered how some of the men had run from the battle. As herecalled their terror-struck faces he felt a scorn for them. They hadsurely been more fleet and more wild than was absolutely necessary. They were weak mortals. As for himself, he had fled with discretionand dignity. 

He was aroused from this reverie by his friend, who, having hitchedabout nervously and blinked at the trees for a time, suddenly coughedin an introductory way, and spoke. 

"Fleming!"

"What?"

The friend put his hand up to his mouth and coughed again. He fidgetedin his jacket. 

"Well, " he gulped at last, "I guess yeh might as well give me back themletters. " Dark, prickling blood had flushed into his cheeks and brow. 

"All right, Wilson, " said the youth. He loosened two buttons of hiscoat, thrust in his hand, and brought forth the packet. As he extendedit to his friend the latter's face was turned from him. 

He had been slow in the act of producing the packet because during ithe had been trying to invent a remarkable comment on the affair. Hecould conjure up nothing of sufficient point. He was compelled toallow his friend to escape unmolested with his packet. And for this hetook unto himself considerable credit. It was a generous thing. 

His friend at his side seemed suffering great shame. As hecontemplated him, the youth felt his heart grow more strong and stout. He had never been compelled to blush in such manner for his acts; hewas an individual of extraordinary virtues. 

He reflected, with condescending pity: "Too bad! Too bad! The poordevil, it makes him feel tough!"

After this incident, and as he reviewed the battle pictures he hadseen, he felt quite competent to return home and make the hearts of thepeople glow with stories of war. He could see himself in a room ofwarm tints telling tales to listener. He could exhibit laurels. Theywere insignificant; still, in a district where laurels were infrequent, they might shine. 

He saw his gaping audience picturing him as the central figure inblazing scenes. And he imagined the consternation and the ejaculationsof his mother and the young lady at the seminary as they drank hisrecitals. Their vague feminine formula for beloved ones doing bravedeeds on the field of battle without risk of life would be destroyed. 

Chapter 16

A sputtering of musketry was always to be heard. Later, the cannon hadentered the dispute. In the fog-filled air their voices made athudding sound. The reverberations were continual. This part of theworld led a strange, battleful existence. 

The youth's regiment was marched to relieve a command that had lainlong in some damp trenches. The men took positions behind a curvingline of rifle pits that had been turned up, like a large furrow, alongthe line of woods. Before them was a level stretch, peopled withshort, deformed stumps. From the woods beyond came the dull popping ofthe skirmishers and pickets, firing in the fog. From the right camethe noise of a terrific fracas. 

The men cuddled behind the small embankment and sat in easy attitudesawaiting their turn. Many had their backs to the firing. The youth'sfriend lay down, buried his face in his arms, and almost instantly, itseemed, he was in a deep sleep. 

The youth leaned his breast against the brown dirt and peered over atthe woods and up and down the line. Curtains of trees interfered withhis ways of vision. He could see the low line of trenches but for ashort distance. A few idle flags were perched on the dirt hills. Behind them were rows of dark bodies with a few heads stickingcuriously over the top. 

Always the noise of skirmishers came from the woods on the front andleft, and the din on the right had grown to frightful proportions. Theguns were roaring without an instant's pause for breath. It seemedthat the cannon had come from all parts and were engaged in astupendous wrangle. It became impossible to make a sentence heard. 

The youth wished to launch a joke--a quotation from newspapers. Hedesired to say, "All quiet on the Rappahannock, " but the guns refusedto permit even a comment upon their uproar. He never successfullyconcluded the sentence. But at last the guns stopped, and among themen in the rifle pits rumors again flew, like birds, but they were nowfor the most part black creatures who flapped their wings drearilynear to the ground and refused to rise on any wings of hope. The men'sfaces grew doleful from the interpreting of omens. Tales of hesitationand uncertainty on the part of those high in place and responsibilitycame to their ears. Stories of disaster were borne into their mindswith many proofs. This din of musketry on the right, growing like areleased genie of sound, expressed and emphasized the army's plight. 

The men were disheartened and began to mutter. They made gesturesexpressive of the sentence: "Ah, what more can we do?" And it couldalways be seen that they were bewildered by the alleged news and couldnot fully comprehend a defeat. 

Before the gray mists had been totally obliterated by the sun rays, theregiment was marching in a spread column that was retiring carefullythrough the woods. The disordered, hurrying lines of the enemy couldsometimes be seen down through the groves and little fields. They wereyelling, shrill and exultant. 

At this sight the youth forgot many personal matters and became greatlyenraged. He exploded in loud sentences. "B'jiminey, we're generaledby 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 behindhim until his mind took in the meaning of the movement. Then hesighed. "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 freelycondemn other men. He made an attempt to restrain himself, but thewords upon his tongue were too bitter. He presently began a long andintricate denunciation of the commander of the forces. 

"Mebbe, it wa'n't all his fault--not all together. He did th' best heknowed. It's our luck t' git licked often, " said his friend in a wearytone. He was trudging along with stooped shoulders and shifting eyeslike 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 hislips. For a moment his face lost its valor and he looked guiltilyabout him. But no one questioned his right to deal in such words, andpresently he recovered his air of courage. He went on to repeat astatement he had heard going from group to group at the camp thatmorning. "The brigadier said he never saw a new reg'ment fight the waywe fought yestirday, didn't he? And we didn't do better than manyanother reg'ment, did we? Well, then, you can't say it's th' army'sfault, 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 daresay it. Th' boys fight like hell-roosters. But still--still, we don'thave no luck. "

"Well, then, if we fight like the devil an' don't ever whip, it must bethe general's fault, " said the youth grandly and decisively. "And Idon't see any sense in fighting and fighting and fighting, yet alwayslosing through some derned old lunkhead of a general. "

A sarcastic man who was tramping at the youth's side, then spokelazily. "Mebbe yeh think yeh fit th' hull battle yestirday, Fleming, "he remarked. 

The speech pierced the youth. Inwardly he was reduced to an abjectpulp by these chance words. His legs quaked privately. He cast afrightened glance at the sarcastic man. 

"Why, no, " he hastened to say in a conciliating voice "I don't think Ifought the whole battle yesterday. "

But the other seemed innocent of any deeper meaning. Apparently, hehad no information. It was merely his habit. "Oh!" he replied in thesame tone of calm derision. 

The youth, nevertheless, felt a threat. His mind shrank from goingnear to the danger, and thereafter he was silent. The significance ofthe sarcastic man's words took from him all loud moods that would makehim appear prominent. He became suddenly a modest person. 

There was low-toned talk among the troops. The officers were impatientand snappy, their countenances clouded with the tales of misfortune. The troops, sifting through the forest, were sullen. In the youth'scompany once a man's laugh rang out. A dozen soldiers turned theirfaces quickly toward him and frowned with vague displeasure. 

The noise of firing dogged their footsteps. Sometimes, it seemed to bedriven a little way, but it always returned again with increasedinsolence. The men muttered and cursed, throwing black looks in itsdirection. 

In a clear space the troops were at last halted. Regiments andbrigades, broken and detached through their encounters with thickets, grew together again and lines were faced toward the pursuing bark ofthe enemy's infantry. 

This noise, following like the yelpings of eager, metallic hounds, increased to a loud and joyous burst, and then, as the sun wentserenely up the sky, throwing illuminating rays into the gloomythickets, it broke forth into prolonged pealings. The woods began tocrackle as if afire. 

"Whoop-a-dadee, " said a man, "here we are! Everybody fightin'. Bloodan' 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. Hejerked without mercy at his little mustache. He strode to and fro withdark dignity in the rear of his men, who were lying down behindwhatever protection they had collected. 

A battery had trundled into position in the rear and was thoughtfullyshelling the distance. The regiment, unmolested as yet, awaited themoment when the gray shadows of the woods before them should be slashedby the lines of flame. There was much growling and swearing. 

"Good Gawd, " the youth grumbled, "we're always being chased around likerats! It makes me sick. Nobody seems to know where we go or why wego. We just get fired around from pillar to post and get licked hereand get licked there, and nobody knows what it's done for. It makes aman feel like a damn' kitten in a bag. Now, I'd like to know what theeternal thunders we was marched into these woods for anyhow, unless itwas to give the rebs a regular pot shot at us. We came in here and gotour legs all tangled up in these cussed briers, and then we begin tofight and the rebs had an easy time of it. Don't tell me it's justluck! I know better. It's this derned old--"

The friend seemed jaded, but he interrupted his comrade with a voice ofcalm 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-mindedlieutenant, who was obliged to vent some of his inward dissatisfactionupon 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 tofight, an' you'll get plenty 'a that t' do in about ten minutes. Lesstalkin' an' more fightin' is what's best for you boys. I never sawsech gabbling jackasses. "

He paused, ready to pounce upon any man who might have the temerity toreply. 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 uponthe thronged forest. A sort of a gust of battle came sweeping towardthat part of the line where lay the youth's regiment. The frontshifted a trifle to meet it squarely. There was a wait. In this partof the field there passed slowly the intense moments that precede thetempest. 

A single rifle flashed in a thicket before the regiment. In an instantit was joined by many others. There was a mighty song of clashes andcrashes that went sweeping through the woods. The guns in the rear, aroused and enraged by shells that had been thrown burr-like at them, suddenly involved themselves in a hideous altercation with another bandof guns. The battle roar settled to a rolling thunder, which was asingle, long explosion. 

In the regiment there was a peculiar kind of hesitation denoted in theattitudes of the men. They were worn, exhausted, having slept butlittle and labored much. They rolled their eyes toward the advancingbattle as they stood awaiting the shock. Some shrank and flinched. They stood as men tied to stakes. 

Chapter 17

This advance of the enemy had seemed to the youth like a ruthlesshunting. He began to fume with rage and exasperation. He beat his footupon the ground, and scowled with hate at the swirling smoke that wasapproaching like a phantom flood. There was a maddening quality inthis seeming resolution of the foe to give him no rest, to give him notime to sit down and think. Yesterday he had fought and had fledrapidly. There had been many adventures. For to-day he felt that hehad earned opportunities for contemplative repose. He could haveenjoyed portraying to uninitiated listeners various scenes at which hehad been a witness or ably discussing the processes of war with otherproved men. Too it was important that he should have time for physicalrecuperation. He was sore and stiff from his experiences. He hadreceived his fill of all exertions, and he wished to rest. 

But those other men seemed never to grow weary; they were fighting withtheir old speed. He had a wild hate for the relentless foe. Yesterday, when he had imagined the universe to be against him, he hadhated it, little gods and big gods; to-day he hated the army of the foewith the same great hatred. He was not going to be badgered of hislife, like a kitten chased by boys, he said. It was not well to drivemen into final corners; at those moments they could all develop teethand claws. 

He leaned and spoke into his friend's ear. He menaced the woods with agesture. "If they keep on chasing us, by Gawd, they'd better watchout. Can't stand TOO much. "

The friend twisted his head and made a calm reply. "If they keep ona-chasin' us they'll drive us all inteh th' river. "

The youth cried out savagely at this statement. He crouched behind alittle tree, with his eyes burning hatefully and his teeth set in acurlike snarl. The awkward bandage was still about his head, and uponit, over his wound, there was a spot of dry blood. His hair waswondrously tousled, and some straggling, moving locks hung over thecloth of the bandage down toward his forehead. His jacket and shirtwere open at the throat, and exposed his young bronzed neck. Therecould be seen spasmodic gulpings at his throat. 

His fingers twined nervously about his rifle. He wished that it was anengine of annihilating power. He felt that he and his companions werebeing taunted and derided from sincere convictions that they were poorand puny. His knowledge of his inability to take vengeance for it madehis rage into a dark and stormy specter, that possessed him and madehim dream of abominable cruelties. The tormentors were flies suckinginsolently at his blood, and he thought that he would have given hislife for a revenge of seeing their faces in pitiful plights. 

The winds of battle had swept all about the regiment, until the onerifle, instantly followed by others, flashed in its front. A momentlater the regiment roared forth its sudden and valiant retort. A densewall of smoke settled down. It was furiously slit and slashed by theknifelike fire from the rifles. 

To the youth the fighters resembled animals tossed for a death struggleinto a dark pit. There was a sensation that he and his fellows, atbay, were pushing back, always pushing fierce onslaughts of creatureswho were slippery. Their beams of crimson seemed to get no purchaseupon the bodies of their foes; the latter seemed to evade them withease, and come through, between, around, and about with unopposed skill. 

When, in a dream, it occurred to the youth that his rifle was animpotent stick, he lost sense of everything but his hate, his desire tosmash into pulp the glittering smile of victory which he could feelupon the faces of his enemies. 

The blue smoke-swallowed line curled and writhed like a snake steppedupon. 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 didnot know the direction of the ground. Indeed, once he even lost thehabit of balance and fell heavily. He was up again immediately. Onethought went through the chaos of his brain at the time. He wonderedif he had fallen because he had been shot. But the suspicion flew awayat once. He did not think more of it. 

He had taken up a first position behind the little tree, with a directdetermination to hold it against the world. He had not deemed itpossible that his army could that day succeed, and from this he feltthe ability to fight harder. But the throng had surged in all ways, until he lost directions and locations, save that he knew where lay theenemy. 

The flames bit him, and the hot smoke broiled his skin. His riflebarrel grew so hot that ordinarily he could not have borne it upon hispalms; but he kept on stuffing cartridges into it, and pounding themwith his clanking, bending ramrod. If he aimed at some changing formthrough the smoke, he pulled the trigger with a fierce grunt, as if hewere dealing a blow of the fist with all his strength. 

When the enemy seemed falling back before him and his fellows, he wentinstantly forward, like a dog who, seeing his foes lagging, turns andinsists upon being pursued. And when he was compelled to retire again, he did it slowly, sullenly, taking steps of wrathful despair. 

Once he, in his intent hate, was almost alone, and was firing, when allthose near him had ceased. He was so engrossed in his occupation thathe was not aware of a lull. 

He was recalled by a hoarse laugh and a sentence that came to his earsin a voice of contempt and amazement. "Yeh infernal fool, don't yehknow 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 leisurethey seemed all to be engaged in staring with astonishment at him. They had become spectators. Turning to the front again he saw, underthe lifted smoke, a deserted ground. 

He looked bewildered for a moment. Then there appeared upon the glazedvacancy of his eyes a diamond point of intelligence. "Oh, " he said, comprehending. 

He returned to his comrades and threw himself upon the ground. Hesprawled like a man who had been thrashed. His flesh seemed strangelyon fire, and the sounds of the battle continued in his ears. He gropedblindly for his canteen. 

The lieutenant was crowing. He seemed drunk with fighting. He calledout to the youth: "By heavens, if I had ten thousand wild cats likeyou I could tear th' stomach outa this war in less'n a week!" He puffedout his chest with large dignity as he said it. 

Some of the men muttered and looked at the youth in awestruck ways. Itwas plain that as he had gone on loading and firing and cursing withoutproper intermission, they had found time to regard him. And they nowlooked upon him as a war devil. 

The friend came staggering to him. There was some fright and dismay inhis voice. "Are yeh all right, Fleming? Do yeh feel all right? Thereain't nothin' th' matter with yeh, Henry, is there?"

"No, " said the youth with difficulty. His throat seemed full of knobsand burrs. 

These incidents made the youth ponder. It was revealed to him that hehad been a barbarian, a beast. He had fought like a pagan who defendshis religion. Regarding it, he saw that it was fine, wild, and, insome ways, easy. He had been a tremendous figure, no doubt. By thisstruggle he had overcome obstacles which he had admitted to bemountains. They had fallen like paper peaks, and he was now what hecalled a hero. And he had not been aware of the process. He hadslept, and, awakening, found himself a knight. 

He lay and basked in the occasional stares of his comrades. Theirfaces were varied in degrees of blackness from the burned powder. Somewere utterly smudged. They were reeking with perspiration, and theirbreaths came hard and wheezing. And from these soiled expanses theypeered at him. 

"Hot work! Hot work!" cried the lieutenant deliriously. He walked upand down, restless and eager. Sometimes his voice could be heard in awild, incomprehensible laugh. 

When he had a particularly profound thought upon the science of war healways unconsciously addressed himself to the youth. 

There was some grim rejoicing by the men. "By thunder, I bet thisarmy'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'dgit a dustpanful. "

"Yes, an' if she'll come around ag'in in 'bout an hour she'll get apile more. "

The forest still bore its burden of clamor. From off under the treescame the rolling clatter of the musketry. Each distant thicket seemeda strange porcupine with quills of flame. A cloud of dark smoke, asfrom smoldering ruins, went up toward the sun now bright and gay in theblue, enameled sky. 

Chapter 18

The ragged line had respite for some minutes, but during its pause thestruggle in the forest became magnified until the trees seemed toquiver from the firing and the ground to shake from the rushing of men. The voices of the cannon were mingled in a long and interminable row. It seemed difficult to live in such an atmosphere. The chests of themen strained for a bit of freshness, and their throats craved water. 

There was one shot through the body, who raised a cry of bitterlamentation when came this lull. Perhaps he had been calling outduring the fighting also, but at that time no one had heard him. Butnow the men turned at the woeful complaints of him upon the ground. 

"Who is it? Who is it?"

"Its Jimmie Rogers. Jimmie Rogers. "

When their eyes first encountered him there was a sudden halt, as ifthey feared to go near. He was thrashing about in the grass, twistinghis shuddering body into many strange postures. He was screamingloudly. This instant's hesitation seemed to fill him with atremendous, fantastic contempt, and he damned them in shriekedsentences. 

The youth's friend had a geographical illusion concerning a stream, andhe obtained permission to go for some water. Immediately canteens wereshowered upon him. "Fill mine, will yeh?" "Bring me some, too. " "Andme, too. " He departed, ladened. The youth went with his friend, feeling a desire to throw his heated body into the stream and, soakingthere, drink quarts. 

They made a hurried search for the supposed stream, but did not findit. "No water here, " said the youth. They turned without delay andbegan to retrace their steps. 

From their position as they again faced toward the place of thefighting, they could of comprehend a greater amount of the battle thanwhen their visions had been blurred by the hurling smoke of the line. They could see dark stretches winding along the land, and on onecleared space there was a row of guns making gray clouds, which werefilled with large flashes of orange-colored flame. Over some foliagethey could see the roof of a house. One window, glowing a deep murderred, shone squarely through the leaves. From the edifice a tallleaning tower of smoke went far into the sky. 

Looking over their own troops, they saw mixed masses slowly gettinginto regular form. The sunlight made twinkling points of the brightsteel. To the rear there was a glimpse of a distant roadway as itcurved over a slope. It was crowded with retreating infantry. Fromall 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-flapping 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 ajangling general and his staff almost ride upon a wounded man, who wascrawling on his hands and knees. The general reined strongly at hischarger's opened and foamy mouth and guided it with dexteroushorsemanship past the man. The latter scrambled in wild and torturinghaste. His strength evidently failed him as he reached a place ofsafety. One of his arms suddenly weakened, and he fell, sliding overupon his back. He lay stretched out, breathing gently. 

A moment later the small, creaking cavalcade was directly in front ofthe two soldiers. Another officer, riding with the skillful abandon ofa cowboy, galloped his horse to a position directly before the general. The two unnoticed foot soldiers made a little show of going on, butthey lingered near in the desire to overhear the conversation. Perhaps, they thought, some great inner historical things would be said. 

The general, whom the boys knew as the commander of their division, looked at the other officer and spoke coolly, as if he were criticisinghis clothes. "Th' enemy's formin' over there for another charge, " hesaid. "It'll be directed against Whiterside, an' I fear they'll breakthrough unless we work like thunder t' stop them. "

The other swore at his restive horse, and then cleared his throat. Hemade 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 rapidlyand in a lower tone. He frequently illustrated his words with apointing finger. The two infantrymen could hear nothing until finallyhe 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'treally got any. But there's th' 304th. They fight like a lot 'a muledrivers. 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 watchdevelopments from here, an' send you word when t' start them. It'llhappen in five minutes. "

As the other officer tossed his fingers toward his cap and wheeling hishorse, 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 companion hurried back to the line. 

These happenings had occupied an incredibly short time, yet the youthfelt that in them he had been made aged. New eyes were given to him. And the most startling thing was to learn suddenly that he was veryinsignificant. The officer spoke of the regiment as if he referred toa broom. Some part of the woods needed sweeping, perhaps, and hemerely 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 lieutenant perceived them andswelled with wrath. "Fleming--Wilson--how long does it take yeh to gitwater, anyhow--where yeh been to. "

But his oration ceased as he saw their eyes, which were large withgreat tales. "We're goin' t' charge--we're goin' t' charge!" cried theyouth's friend, hastening with his news. 

"Charge?" said the lieutenant. "Charge? Well, b'Gawd! Now, this isreal fightin'. " Over his soiled countenance there went a boastfulsmile. "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? Wilson, you're lyin'. "

"I hope to die, " said the youth, pitching his tones to the key of angryremonstrance. "Sure as shooting, I tell you. "

And his friend spoke in re-enforcement. "Not by a blame sight, heain'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 whohad received orders from the commander of the division. They weregesticulating at each other. The soldier, pointing at them, interpreted the scene. 

One man had a final objection: "How could yeh hear 'em talkin'?" Butthe men, for a large part, nodded, admitting that previously the twofriends had spoken truth. 

They settled back into reposeful attitudes with airs of having acceptedthe matter. And they mused upon it, with a hundred varieties ofexpression. It was an engrossing thing to think about. Many tightenedtheir belts carefully and hitched at their trousers. 

A moment later the officers began to bustle among the men, pushing theminto a more compact mass and into a better alignment. They chasedthose that straggled and fumed at a few men who seemed to show by theirattitudes that they had decided to remain at that spot. They were likecritical shepherds, struggling with sheep. 

Presently, the regiment seemed to draw itself up and heave a deepbreath. None of the men's faces were mirrors of large thoughts. Thesoldiers were bended and stooped like sprinters before a signal. Manypairs of glinting eyes peered from the grimy faces toward the curtainsof the deeper woods. They seemed to be engaged in deep calculations oftime and distance. 

They were surrounded by the noises of the monstrous altercation betweenthe 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. Thelatter returned to him the same manner of look. They were the onlyones 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 nodded amute and unprotesting assent when a shaggy man near them said in a meekvoice: "We'll git swallowed. "

Chapter 19

The youth stared at the land in front of him. Its foliages now seemedto veil powers and horrors. He was unaware of the machinery of ordersthat started the charge, although from the corners of his eyes he sawan officer, who looked like a boy a-horseback, come galloping, wavinghis hat. Suddenly he felt a straining and heaving among the men. Theline fell slowly forward like a toppling wall, and, with a convulsivegasp that was intended for a cheer, the regiment began its journey. The youth was pushed and jostled for a moment before he understood themovement at all, but directly he lunged ahead and began to run. 

He fixed his eye upon a distant and prominent clump of trees where hehad concluded the enemy were to be met, and he ran toward it as towarda goal. He had believed throughout that it was a mere question ofgetting over an unpleasant matter as quickly as possible, and he randesperately, as if pursued for a murder. His face was drawn hard andtight with the stress of his endeavor. His eyes were fixed in a luridglare. And with his soiled and disordered dress, his red and inflamedfeatures surmounted by the dingy rag with its spot of blood, his wildlyswinging rifle, and banging accouterments, he looked to be an insanesoldier. 

As the regiment swung from its position out into a cleared space thewoods and thickets before it awakened. Yellow flames leaped toward itfrom many directions. The forest made a tremendous objection. 

The line lurched straight for a moment. Then the right wing swungforward; it in turn was surpassed by the left. Afterward the centercareered to the front until the regiment was a wedge-shaped mass, butan instant later the opposition of the bushes, trees, and uneven placeson the ground split the command and scattered it into detached clusters. 

The youth, light-footed, was unconsciously in advance. His eyes stillkept note of the clump of trees. From all places near it the clannishyell of the enemy could be heard. The little flames of rifles leapedfrom it. The song of the bullets was in the air and shells snarledamong the treetops. One tumbled directly into the middle of a hurryinggroup and exploded in crimson fury. There was an instant spectacle ofa man, almost over it, throwing up his hands to shield his eyes. 

Other men, punched by bullets, fell in grotesque agonies. The regimentleft a coherent trail of bodies. 

They had passed into a clearer atmosphere. There was an effect like arevelation in the new appearance of the landscape. Some men workingmadly at a battery were plain to them, and the opposing infantry'slines were defined by the gray walls and fringes of smoke. 

It seemed to the youth that he saw everything. Each blade of the greengrass was bold and clear. He thought that he was aware of every changein the thin, transparent vapor that floated idly in sheets. The brownor gray trunks of the trees showed each roughness of their surfaces. And the men of the regiment, with their starting eyes and sweatingfaces, running madly, or falling, as if thrown headlong, to queer, heaped-up corpses--all were comprehended. His mind took a mechanicalbut firm impression, so that afterward everything was pictured andexplained to him, save why he himself was there. 

But there was a frenzy made from this furious rush. The men, pitchingforward insanely, had burst into cheerings, moblike and barbaric, buttuned in strange keys that can arouse the dullard and the stoic. Itmade a mad enthusiasm that, it seemed, would be incapable of checkingitself before granite and brass. There was the delirium thatencounters despair and death, and is heedless and blind to the odds. It is a temporary but sublime absence of selfishness. And because itwas 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 energies of the men. As if byagreement, the leaders began to slacken their speed. The volleysdirected against them had had a seeming windlike effect. The regimentsnorted and blew. Among some stolid trees it began to falter andhesitate. The men, staring intently, began to wait for some of thedistant walls to smoke to move and disclose to them the scene. Sincemuch of their strength and their breath had vanished, they returned tocaution. They were become men again. 

The youth had a vague belief that he had run miles, and he thought, ina way, that he was now in some new and unknown land. 

The moment the regiment ceased its advance the protesting splutter ofmusketry became a steadied roar. Long and accurate fringes of smokespread out. From the top of a small hill came level belchings ofyellow flame that caused an inhuman whistling in the air. 

The men, halted, had opportunity to see some of their comrades droppingwith moans and shrieks. A few lay under foot, still or wailing. Andnow 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 fatalfascination. They stared woodenly at the sights, and, lowering theireyes, looked from face to face. It was a strange pause, and a strangesilence. 

Then, above the sounds of the outside commotion, arose the roar of thelieutenant. He strode suddenly forth, his infantile features blackwith 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 beunderstood. 

He started rapidly forward, with his head turned toward the men, "Comeon, " he was shouting. The men stared with blank and yokel-like eyes athim. He was obliged to halt and retrace his steps. He stood then withhis back to the enemy and delivered gigantic curses into the faces ofthe men. His body vibrated from the weight and force of hisimprecations. And he could string oaths with the facility of a maidenwho strings beads. 

The friend of the youth aroused. Lurching suddenly forward anddropping to his knees, he fired an angry shot at the persistent woods. This action awakened the men. They huddled no more like sheep. Theyseemed suddenly to bethink themselves of their weapons, and at oncecommenced firing. Belabored by their officers, they began to moveforward. The regiment, involved like a cart involved in mud andmuddle, started unevenly with many jolts and jerks. The men stoppednow every few paces to fire and load, and in this manner moved slowlyon from trees to trees. 

The flaming opposition in their front grew with their advance until itseemed that all forward ways were barred by the thin leaping tongues, and off to the right an ominous demonstration could sometimes be dimlydiscerned. The smoke lately generated was in confusing clouds thatmade it difficult for the regiment to proceed with intelligence. As hepassed through each curling mass the youth wondered what would confronthim on the farther side. 

The command went painfully forward until an open space interposedbetween them and the lurid lines. Here, crouching and cowering behindsome trees, the men clung with desperation, as if threatened by a wave. They looked wild-eyed, and as if amazed at this furious disturbancethey had stirred. In the storm there was an ironical expression oftheir importance. The faces of the men, too, showed a lack of acertain feeling of responsibility for being there. It was as if theyhad been driven. It was the dominant animal failing to remember in thesupreme moments the forceful causes of various superficial qualities. The whole affair seemed incomprehensible to many of them. 

As they halted thus the lieutenant again began to bellow profanely. Regardless of the vindictive threats of the bullets, he went aboutcoaxing, berating, and bedamning. His lips, that were habitually in asoft and childlike curve, were now writhed into unholy contortions. Heswore by all possible deities. 

Once he grabbed the youth by the arm. "Come on, yeh lunkhead!" heroared. "Come one! We'll all git killed if we stay here. We've on'ygot t' go across that lot. An' then"--the remainder of his ideadisappeared in a blue haze of curses. 

The youth stretched forth his arm. "Cross there?" His mouth waspuckered in doubt and awe. 

"Certainly. Jest 'cross th' lot! We can't stay here, " screamed thelieutenant. He poked his face close to the youth and waved hisbandaged hand. "Come on!" Presently he grappled with him as if for awrestling bout. It was as if he planned to drag the youth by the earon to the assault. 

The private felt a sudden unspeakable indignation against his officer. He wrenched fiercely and shook him off. 

"Come on yerself, then, " he yelled. There was a bitter challenge inhis voice. 

They galloped together down the regimental front. The friend scrambledafter them. In front of the colors the three men began to bawl: "Comeon! come on!" They danced and gyrated like tortured savages. 

The flag, obedient to these appeals, bended its glittering form andswept toward them. The men wavered in indecision for a moment, andthen with a long, wailful cry the dilapidated regiment surged forwardand began its new journey. 

Over the field went the scurrying mass. It was a handful of mensplattered into the faces of the enemy. Toward it instantly sprang theyellow tongues. A vast quantity of blue smoke hung before them. Amighty banging made ears valueless. 

The youth ran like a madman to reach the woods before a bullet coulddiscover him. He ducked his head low, like a football player. In hishaste his eyes almost closed, and the scene was a wild blur. Pulsatingsaliva stood at the corners of his mouth. 

Within him, as he hurled himself forward, was born a love, a despairingfondness for this flag which was near him. It was a creation of beautyand invulnerability. It was a goddess, radiant, that bended its formwith 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 endowed it with power. He keptnear, as if it could be a saver of lives, and an imploring cry wentfrom his mind. 

In the mad scramble he was aware that the color sergeant flinchedsuddenly, as if struck by a bludgeon. He faltered, and then becamemotionless, save for his quivering knees. He made a spring and aclutch at the pole. At the same instant his friend grabbed it from theother side. They jerked at it, stout and furious, but the colorsergeant was dead, and the corpse would not relinquish its trust. Fora moment there was a grim encounter. The dead man, swinging withbended back, seemed to be obstinately tugging, in ludicrous and awfulways, for the possession of the flag. 

It was past in an instant of time. They wrenched the flag furiouslyfrom the dead man, and, as they turned again, the corpse swayed forwardwith bowed head. One arm swung high, and the curved hand fell withheavy protest on the friend's unheeding shoulder. 

Chapter 20

When the two youths turned with the flag they saw that much of theregiment had crumbled away, and the dejected remnant was coming slowlyback. The men, having hurled themselves in projectile fashion, hadpresently expended their forces. They slowly retreated, with theirfaces still toward the spluttering woods, and their hot rifles stillreplying to the din. Several officers were giving orders, their voiceskeyed to screams. 

"Where in hell yeh goin'?" the lieutenant was asking in a sarcastichowl. And a red-bearded officer, whose voice of triple brass couldplainly be heard, was commanding: "Shoot into 'em! Shoot into 'em, Gawd damn their souls!" There was a melee of screeches, in which themen were ordered to do conflicting and impossible things. 

The youth and his friend had a small scuffle over the flag. "Give itt' me!" "No, let me keep it!" Each felt satisfied with the other'spossession of it, but each felt bound to declare, by an offer to carrythe emblem, his willingness to further risk himself. The youth roughlypushed his friend away. 

The regiment fell back to the stolid trees. There it halted for amoment to blaze at some dark forms that had begun to steal upon itstrack. Presently it resumed its march again, curving among the treetrunks. By the time the depleted regiment had again reached the firstopen space they were receiving a fast and merciless fire. There seemedto be mobs all about them. 

The greater part of the men, discouraged, their spirits worn by theturmoil, acted as if stunned. They accepted the pelting of the bulletswith bowed and weary heads. It was of no purpose to strive againstwalls. It was of no use to batter themselves against granite. Andfrom this consciousness that they had attempted to conquer anunconquerable thing there seemed to arise a feeling that they had beenbetrayed. They glowered with bent brows, but dangerously, upon some ofthe officers, more particularly upon the red-bearded one with the voiceof triple brass. 

However, the rear of the regiment was fringed with men, who continuedto shoot irritably at the advancing foes. They seemed resolved to makeevery trouble. The youthful lieutenant was perhaps the last man in thedisordered mass. His forgotten back was toward the enemy. He had beenshot in the arm. It hung straight and rigid. Occasionally he wouldcease to remember it, and be about to emphasize an oath with a sweepinggesture. The multiplied pain caused him to swear with incredible power. 

The youth went along with slipping uncertain feet. He kept watchfuleyes rearward. A scowl of mortification and rage was upon his face. He had thought of a fine revenge upon the officer who had referred tohim and his fellows as mule drivers. But he saw that it could not cometo pass. His dreams had collapsed when the mule drivers, dwindlingrapidly, had wavered and hesitated on the little clearing, and then hadrecoiled. And now the retreat of the mule drivers was a march of shameto him. 

A dagger-pointed gaze from without his blackened face was held towardthe enemy, but his greater hatred was riveted upon the man, who, notknowing him, had called him a mule driver. 

When he knew that he and his comrades had failed to do anything insuccessful ways that might bring the little pangs of a kind of remorseupon the officer, the youth allowed the rage of the baffled to possesshim. This cold officer upon a monument, who dropped epithetsunconcernedly down, would be finer as a dead man, he thought. Sogrievous did he think it that he could never possess the secret rightto 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 theflag erect. He harangued his fellows, pushing against their chestswith his free hand. To those he knew well he made frantic appeals, beseeching them by name. Between him and the lieutenant, scolding andnear to losing his mind with rage, there was felt a subtle fellowshipand equality. They supported each other in all manner of hoarse, howling protests. 

But the regiment was a machine run down. The two men babbled at aforceless thing. The soldiers who had heart to go slowly werecontinually shaken in their resolves by a knowledge that comrades wereslipping with speed back to the lines. It was difficult to think ofreputation when others were thinking of skins. Wounded men were leftcrying on this black journey. 

The smoke fringes and flames blustered always. The youth, peering oncethrough a sudden rift in a cloud, saw a brown mass of troops, interwoven and magnified until they appeared to be thousands. Afierce-hued flag flashed before his vision. 

Immediately, as if the uplifting of the smoke had been prearranged, thediscovered troops burst into a rasping yell, and a hundred flamesjetted toward the retreating band. A rolling gray cloud againinterposed as the regiment doggedly replied. The youth had to dependagain upon his misused ears, which were trembling and buzzing from themelee of musketry and yells. 

The way seemed eternal. In the clouded haze men became panic-strickenwith the thought that the regiment had lost its path, and wasproceeding in a perilous direction. Once the men who headed the wildprocession turned and came pushing back against their comrades, screaming that they were being fired upon from points which they hadconsidered to be toward their own lines. At this cry a hysterical fearand dismay beset the troops. A soldier, who heretofore had beenambitious to make the regiment into a wise little band that wouldproceed calmly amid the huge-appearing difficulties, suddenly sank downand buried his face in his arms with an air of bowing to a doom. Fromanother a shrill lamentation rang out filled with profane allusions toa general. Men ran hither and thither, seeking with their eyes roadsof 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 flagin his hands took a stand as if he expected an attempt to push him tothe ground. He unconsciously assumed the attitude of the color bearerin the fight of the preceding day. He passed over his brow a hand thattrembled. His breath did not come freely. He was choking during thissmall 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 notlook at the other. 

The officers labored like politicians to beat the mass into a propercircle to face the menaces. The ground was uneven and torn. The mencurled into depressions and fitted themselves snugly behind whateverwould frustrate a bullet. The youth noted with vague surprise that thelieutenant was standing mutely with his legs far apart and his swordheld in the manner of a cane. The youth wondered what had happened tohis vocal organs that he no more cursed. 

There was something curious in this little intent pause of thelieutenant. He was like a babe which, having wept its fill, raises itseyes and fixes upon a distant toy. He was engrossed in thiscontemplation, and the soft under lip quivered from self-whisperedwords. 

Some lazy and ignorant smoke curled slowly. The men, hiding from thebullets, waited anxiously for it to lift and disclose the plight of theregiment. 

The silent ranks were suddenly thrilled by the eager voice of theyouthful lieutenant bawling out: "Here they come! Right onto us, b'Gawd!" His further words were lost in a roar of wicked thunder fromthe men's rifles. 

The youth's eyes had instantly turned in the direction indicated by theawakened and agitated lieutenant, and he had seen the haze of treacherydisclosing a body of soldiers of the enemy. They were so near that hecould see their features. There was a recognition as he looked at thetypes of faces. Also he perceived with dim amazement that theiruniforms were rather gay in effect, being light gray, accented with abrilliant-hued facing. Too, the clothes seemed new. 

These troops had apparently been going forward with caution, theirrifles held in readiness, when the youthful lieutenant had discoveredthem and their movement had been interrupted by the volley from theblue regiment. From the moment's glimpse, it was derived that they hadbeen unaware of the proximity of their dark-suited foes or had mistakenthe direction. Almost instantly they were shut utterly from theyouth's sight by the smoke from the energetic rifles of his companions. He strained his vision to learn the accomplishment of the volley, butthe smoke hung before him. 

The two bodies of troops exchanged blows in the manner of a pair ofboxers. The fast angry firings went back and forth. The men in bluewere intent with the despair of their circumstances and they seizedupon the revenge to be had at close range. Their thunder swelled loudand valiant. Their curving front bristled with flashes and the placeresounded with the clangor of their ramrods. The youth ducked anddodged for a time and achieved a few unsatisfactory views of the enemy. There appeared to be many of them and they were replying swiftly. Theyseemed moving toward the blue regiment, step by step. He seatedhimself gloomily on the ground with his flag between his knees. 

As he noted the vicious, wolflike temper of his comrades he had a sweetthought that if the enemy was about to swallow the regimental broom asa large prisoner, it could at least have the consolation of going downwith bristles forward. 

But the blows of the antagonist began to grow more weak. Fewer bulletsripped the air, and finally, when the men slackened to learn of thefight, they could see only dark, floating smoke. The regiment laystill and gazed. Presently some chance whim came to the pesteringblur, and it began to coil heavily away. The men saw a ground vacantof fighters. It would have been an empty stage if it were not for afew corpses that lay thrown and twisted into fantastic shapes upon thesward. 

At sight of this tableau, many of the men in blue sprang from behindtheir covers and made an ungainly dance of joy. Their eyes burned anda hoarse cheer of elation broke from their dry lips. 

It had begun to seem to them that events were trying to prove that theywere impotent. These little battles had evidently endeavored todemonstrate that the men could not fight well. When on the verge ofsubmission to these opinions, the small duel had showed them that theproportions were not impossible, and by it they had revenged themselvesupon their misgivings and upon the foe. 

The impetus of enthusiasm was theirs again. They gazed about them withlooks of uplifted pride, feeling new trust in the grim, alwaysconfident weapons in their hands. And they were men. 

Chapter 21

Presently they knew that no firing threatened them. All ways seemedonce more opened to them. The dusty blue lines of their friends weredisclosed a short distance away. In the distance there were manycolossal noises, but in all this part of the field there was a suddenstillness. 

They perceived that they were free. The depleted band drew a longbreath 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 unfalteringin the grimmest moments now could not conceal an anxiety that made themfrantic. It was perhaps that they dreaded to be killed ininsignificant ways after the times for proper military deaths hadpassed. Or, perhaps, they thought it would be too ironical to getkilled at the portals of safety. With backward looks of perturbation, they hastened. 

As they approached their own lines there was some sarcasm exhibited onthe part of a gaunt and bronzed regiment that lay resting in the shadeof the 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 atth' sojers!"

There was no reply from the bruised and battered regiment, save thatone man made broadcast challenges to fist fights and the red-beardedofficer walked rather near and glared in great swashbuckler style at atall captain in the other regiment. But the lieutenant suppressed theman who wished to fist fight, and the tall captain, flushing at thelittle fanfare of the red-bearded one, was obliged to look intently atsome trees. 

The youth's tender flesh was deeply stung by these remarks. From underhis creased brows he glowered with hate at the mockers. He meditatedupon a few revenges. Still, many in the regiment hung their heads incriminal fashion, so that it came to pass that the men trudged withsudden heaviness, as if they bore upon their bended shoulders thecoffin of their honor. And the youthful lieutenant, recollectinghimself, began to mutter softly in black curses. 

They turned when they arrived at their old position to regard theground 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 brilliantmeasurings of his mind, were trivial and ridiculous. The stolid trees, where much had taken place, seemed incredibly near. The time, too, nowthat he reflected, he saw to have been short. He wondered at thenumber of emotions and events that had been crowded into such littlespaces. Elfin thoughts must have exaggerated and enlarged everything, he said. 

It seemed, then, that there was bitter justice in the speeches of thegaunt and bronzed veterans. He veiled a glance of disdain at hisfellows who strewed the ground, choking with dust, red fromperspiration, misty-eyed, disheveled. 

They were gulping at their canteens, fierce to wring every mite ofwater from them, and they polished at their swollen and watery featureswith coat sleeves and bunches of grass. 

However, to the youth there was a considerable joy in musing upon hisperformances during the charge. He had had very little time previouslyin which to appreciate himself, so that there was now much satisfactionin quietly thinking of his actions. He recalled bits of color that inthe flurry had stamped themselves unawares upon his engaged senses. 

As the regiment lay heaving from its hot exertions the officer who hadnamed them as mule drivers came galloping along the line. He had losthis cap. His tousled hair streamed wildly, and his face was dark withvexation and wrath. His temper was displayed with more clearness bythe way in which he managed his horse. He jerked and wrenched savagelyat his bridle, stopping the hard-breathing animal with a furious pullnear the colonel of the regiment. He immediately exploded inreproaches which came unbidden to the ears of the men. They weresuddenly 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 causedcertain of the men to learn the sense of his words. "What an awfulmess you made! Good Lord, man, you stopped about a hundred feet thisside of a very pretty success! If your men had gone a hundred feetfarther you would have made a great charge, but as it is--what a lot ofmud diggers you've got anyway!"

The men, listening with bated breath, now turned their curious eyesupon the colonel. They had a ragamuffin interest in this affair. 

The colonel was seen to straighten his form and put one hand forth inoratorical fashion. He wore an injured air; it was as if a deacon hadbeen accused of stealing. The men were wiggling in an ecstasy ofexcitement. 

But of a sudden the colonel's manner changed from that of a deacon tothat 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 contemptinto the other's eyes. "Not very far, I think. You were intended tomake a diversion in favor of Whiterside. How well you succeeded yourown 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 thewoods to the left, broke out in vague damnations. 

The lieutenant, who had listened with an air of impotent rage to theinterview, spoke suddenly in firm and undaunted tones. "I don't carewhat a man is--whether he is a general or what--if he says th' boysdidn't put up a good fight out there he's a damned fool. "

"Lieutenant, " began the colonel, severely, "this is my own affair, andI'll trouble you--"

The lieutenant made an obedient gesture. "All right, colonel, allright, " he said. He sat down with an air of being content with himself. 

The news that the regiment had been reproached went along the line. For a time the men were bewildered by it. "Good thunder!" theyejaculated, staring at the vanishing form of the general. Theyconceived it to be a huge mistake. 

Presently, however, they began to believe that in truth their effortshad been called light. The youth could see this conviction weight uponthe 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 wonderwhat 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 ofirritation. "Oh, well, " he rejoined, "he probably didn't see nothingof it at all and god mad as blazes, and concluded we were a lot ofsheep, just because we didn't do what he wanted done. It's a pity oldGrandpa Henderson got killed yestirday--he'd have known that we did ourbest and fought good. It's just our awful luck, that's what. "

"I should say so, " replied the friend. He seemed to be deeply woundedat an injustice. "I should say we did have awful luck! There's no funin fightin' fer people when everything yeh do--no matter what--ain'tdone right. I have a notion t' stay behind next time an' let 'em taketheir 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 wecould!"

"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, 'acourse, 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 morestuck in an' ses it wasn't a lie--we did fight like thunder, an' theygive us quite a sendoff. But this is what I can't stand--theseeverlastin' ol' soldiers, titterin' an' laughin', an then that general, he's crazy. "

The youth exclaimed with sudden exasperation: "He's a lunkhead! Hemakes 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 facesexpressed 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 totell his tidings. The others made an excited circle. "Well, sir, th'colonel met your lieutenant right by us--it was damnedest thing I everheard--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'sFlemin', an' he's a jimhickey, ' he ses, right away. What? I say hedid. 'A jimhickey, ' he ses--those 'r his words. He did, too. I sayhe 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, ' and 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, ' sesth' lieutenant, '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 Wilson, ' 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!' sesth' colonel. He ses: 'Well, well, well, ' he ses. 'They deserve t' bemajor-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!" Butdespite these youthful scoffings and embarrassments, they knew thattheir faces were deeply flushing from thrills of pleasure. Theyexchanged a secret glance of joy and congratulation. 

They speedily forgot many things. The past held no pictures of errorand disappointment. They were very happy, and their hearts swelledwith grateful affection for the colonel and the youthful lieutenant. 

Chapter 22

When the woods again began to pour forth the dark-hued masses of theenemy the youth felt serene self-confidence. He smiled briefly when hesaw men dodge and duck at the long screechings of shells that werethrown in giant handfuls over them. He stood, erect and tranquil, watching the attack begin against apart of the line that made a bluecurve along the side of an adjacent hill. His vision being unmolestedby smoke from the rifles of his companions, he had opportunities to seeparts of the hard fight. It was a relief to perceive at last fromwhence came some of these noises which had been roared into his ears. 

Off a short way he saw two regiments fighting a little separate battlewith two other regiments. It was in a cleared space, wearing aset-apart look. They were blazing as if upon a wager, giving andtaking tremendous blows. The firings were incredibly fierce and rapid. These intent regiments apparently were oblivious of all larger purposesof war, and were slugging each other as if at a matched game. 

In another direction he saw a magnificent brigade going with theevident intention of driving the enemy from a wood. They passed in outof sight and presently there was a most awe-inspiring racket in thewood. The noise was unspeakable. Having stirred this prodigiousuproar, and, apparently, finding it too prodigious, the brigade, aftera little time, came marching airily out again with its fine formationin nowise disturbed. There were no traces of speed in its movements. The brigade was jaunty and seemed to point a proud thumb at the yellingwood. 

On a slope to the left there was a long row of guns, gruff andmaddened, denouncing the enemy, who, down through the woods, wereforming for another attack in the pitiless monotony of conflicts. Theround red discharges from the guns made a crimson flare and a high, thick smoke. Occasional glimpses could be caught of groups of thetoiling artillerymen. In the rear of this row of guns stood a house, calm and white, amid bursting shells. A congregation of horses, tiedto a long railing, were tugging frenziedly at their bridles. Men wererunning hither and thither. 

The detached battle between the four regiments lasted for some time. There chanced to be no interference, and they settled their dispute bythemselves. They struck savagely and powerfully at each other for aperiod of minutes, and then the lighter-hued regiments faltered anddrew back, leaving the dark-blue lines shouting. The youth could seethe two flags shaking with laughter amid the smoke remnants. 

Presently there was a stillness, pregnant with meaning. The blue linesshifted and changed a trifle and stared expectantly at the silent woodsand fields before them. The hush was solemn and churchlike, save for adistant battery that, evidently unable to remain quiet, sent a faintrolling thunder over the ground. It irritated, like the noises ofunimpressed boys. The men imagined that it would prevent their perchedears from hearing the first words of the new battle. 

Of a sudden the guns on the slope roared out a message of warning. Aspluttering sound had begun in the woods. It swelled with amazingspeed to a profound clamor that involved the earth in noises. Thesplitting crashes swept along the lines until an interminable roar wasdeveloped. To those in the midst of it it became a din fitted to theuniverse. It was the whirring and thumping of gigantic machinery, complications among the smaller stars. The youth's ears were filledcups. They were incapable of hearing more. 

On an incline over which a road wound he saw wild and desperate rushesof men perpetually backward and forward in riotous surges. These partsof the opposing armies were two long waves that pitched upon each othermadly at dictated points. To and fro they swelled. Sometimes, oneside by its yells and cheers would proclaim decisive blows, but amoment later the other side would be all yells and cheers. Once theyouth saw a spray of light forms go in houndlike leaps toward thewaving blue lines. There was much howling, and presently it went awaywith a vast mouthful of prisoners. Again, he saw a blue wave dash withsuch thunderous force against a gray obstruction that it seemed toclear the earth of it and leave nothing but trampled sod. And alwaysin their swift and deadly rushes to and fro the men screamed and yelledlike maniacs. 

Particular pieces of fence or secure positions behind collections oftrees were wrangled over, as gold thrones or pearl bedsteads. Therewere desperate lunges at these chosen spots seemingly every instant, and most of them were bandied like light toys between the contendingforces. The youth could not tell from the battle flags flying likecrimson foam in many directions which color of cloth was winning. 

His emaciated regiment bustled forth with undiminished fierceness whenits time came. When assaulted again by bullets, the men burst out in abarbaric cry of rage and pain. They bent their heads in aims of intenthatred behind the projected hammers of their guns. Their ramrodsclanged loud with fury as their eager arms pounded the cartridges intothe rifle barrels. The front of the regiment was a smoke-wallpenetrated by the flashing points of yellow and red. 

Wallowing in the fight, they were in an astonishingly short timeresmudged. They surpassed in stain and dirt all their previousappearances. Moving to and fro with strained exertion, jabbering allthe while, they were, with their swaying bodies, black faces, andglowing eyes, like strange and ugly fiends jigging heavily in the smoke. 

The lieutenant, returning from a tour after a bandage, produced from ahidden receptacle of his mind new and portentous oaths suited to theemergency. Strings of expletives he swung lashlike over the backs ofhis men, and it was evident that his previous efforts had in nowiseimpaired 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 thegreat drama made him lean forward, intent-eyed, his face working insmall contortions. Sometimes he prattled, words coming unconsciouslyfrom 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 couldbe seen plainly--tall, gaunt men with excited faces running with longstrides 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 theirrifles and fired a plumping volley at the foes. There had been noorder given; the men, upon recognizing the menace, had immediately letdrive their flock of bullets without waiting for word of command. 

But the enemy were quick to gain the protection of the wandering lineof fence. They slid down behind it with remarkable celerity, and fromthis position they began briskly to slice up the blue men. 

These latter braced their energies for a great struggle. Often, whiteclinched teeth shone from the dusky faces. Many heads surged to andfro, floating upon a pale sea of smoke. Those behind the fencefrequently shouted and yelped in taunts and gibelike cries, but theregiment maintained a stressed silence. Perhaps, at this new assaultthe men recalled the fact that they had been named mud diggers, and itmade their situation thrice bitter. They were breathlessly intent uponkeeping the ground and thrusting away the rejoicing body of the enemy. They fought swiftly and with a despairing savageness denoted in theirexpressions. 

The youth had resolved not to budge whatever should happen. Somearrows of scorn that had buried themselves in his heart had generatedstrange and unspeakable hatred. It was clear to him that his final andabsolute revenge was to be achieved by his dead body lying, torn andgluttering, upon the field. This was to be a poignant retaliation uponthe officer who had said "mule drivers, " and later "mud diggers, " forin all the wild graspings of his mind for a unit responsible for hissufferings and commotions he always seized upon the man who had dubbedhim wrongly. And it was his idea, vaguely formulated, that his corpsewould be for those eyes a great and salt reproach. 

The regiment bled extravagantly. Grunting bundles of blue began todrop. The orderly sergeant of the youth's company was shot through thecheeks. Its supports being injured, his jaw hung afar down, disclosingin the wide cavern of his mouth a pulsing mass of blood and teeth. Andwith it all he made attempts to cry out. In his endeavor there was adreadful earnestness, as if he conceived that one great shriek wouldmake him well. 

The youth saw him presently go rearward. His strength seemed in nowiseimpaired. He ran swiftly, casting wild glances for succor. 

Others fell down about the feet of their companions. Some of thewounded crawled out and away, but many lay still, their bodies twistedinto 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 lieutenant, also, was unscathed in his position at the rear. He had continued tocurse, but it was now with the air of a man who was using his last boxof oaths. 

For the fire of the regiment had begun to wane and drip. The robustvoice, that had come strangely from the thin ranks, was growing rapidlyweak. 

Chapter 23

The colonel came running along the back of the line. There were otherofficers following him. "We must charge'm!" they shouted. "We mustcharge'm!" they cried with resentful voices, as if anticipating arebellion against this plan by the men. 

The youth, upon hearing the shouts, began to study the distance betweenhim and the enemy. He made vague calculations. He saw that to be firmsoldiers they must go forward. It would be death to stay in thepresent place, and with all the circumstances to go backward wouldexalt too many others. Their hope was to push the galling foes awayfrom the fence. 

He expected that his companions, weary and stiffened, would have to bedriven to this assault, but as he turned toward them he perceived witha certain surprise that they were giving quick and unqualifiedexpressions of assent. There was an ominous, clanging overture to thecharge when the shafts of the bayonets rattled upon the rifle barrels. At the yelled words of command the soldiers sprang forward in eagerleaps. There was new and unexpected force in the movement of theregiment. A knowledge of its faded and jaded condition made the chargeappear like a paroxysm, a display of the strength that comes before afinal feebleness. The men scampered in insane fever of haste, racingas if to achieve a sudden success before an exhilarating fluid shouldleave them. It was a blind and despairing rush by the collection ofmen in dusty and tattered blue, over a green sward and under a sapphiresky, toward a fence, dimly outlined in smoke, from behind whichsputtered the fierce rifles of enemies. 

The youth kept the bright colors to the front. He was waving his freearm in furious circles, the while shrieking mad calls and appeals, urging on those that did not need to be urged, for it seemed that themob of blue men hurling themselves on the dangerous group of rifleswere again grown suddenly wild with an enthusiasm of unselfishness. From the many firings starting toward them, it looked as if they wouldmerely succeed in making a great sprinkling of corpses on the grassbetween their former position and the fence. But they were in a stateof frenzy, perhaps because of forgotten vanities, and it made anexhibition of sublime recklessness. There was no obvious questioning, nor figurings, nor diagrams. There was, apparently, no consideredloopholes. It appeared that the swift wings of their desires wouldhave shattered against the iron gates of the impossible. 

He himself felt the daring spirit of a savage, religion-mad. He wascapable of profound sacrifices, a tremendous death. He had no time fordissections, but he knew that he thought of the bullets only as thingsthat could prevent him from reaching the place of his endeavor. Therewere subtle flashings of joy within him that thus should be his mind. 

He strained all his strength. His eyesight was shaken and dazzled bythe tension of thought and muscle. He did not see anything exceptingthe mist of smoke gashed by the little knives of fire, but he knew thatin it lay the aged fence of a vanished farmer protecting the snuggledbodies of the gray men. 

As he ran a thought of the shock of contact gleamed in his mind. Heexpected a great concussion when the two bodies of troops crashedtogether. This became a part of his wild battle madness. He couldfeel the onward swing of the regiment about him and he conceived of athunderous, crushing blow that would prostrate the resistance andspread consternation and amazement for miles. The flying regiment wasgoing to have a catapultian effect. This dream made him run fasteramong 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 intendto abide the blow. The smoke, rolling, disclosed men who ran, theirfaces still turned. These grew to a crowd, who retired stubbornly. Individuals wheeled frequently to send a bullet at the blue wave. 

But at one part of the line there was a grim and obdurate group thatmade no movement. They were settled firmly down behind posts andrails. A flag, ruffled and fierce, waved over them and their riflesdinned fiercely. 

The blue whirl of men got very near, until it seemed that in truththere would be a close and frightful scuffle. There was an expresseddisdain in the opposition of the little group, that changed the meaningof the cheers of the men in blue. They became yells of wrath, directed, personal. The cries of the two parties were now in sound aninterchange of scathing insults. 

They in blue showed their teeth; their eyes shone all white. Theylaunched themselves as at the throats of those who stood resisting. The space between dwindled to an insignificant distance. 

The youth had centered the gaze of his soul upon that other flag. Itspossession would be high pride. It would express bloody minglings, near blows. He had a gigantic hatred for those who made greatdifficulties and complications. They caused it to be as a cravedtreasure of mythology, hung amid tasks and contrivances of danger. 

He plunged like a mad horse at it. He was resolved it should notescape if wild blows and darings of blows could seize it. His ownemblem, quivering and aflare, was winging toward the other. It seemedthere would shortly be an encounter of strange beaks and claws, as ofeagles. 

The swirling body of blue men came to a sudden halt at close anddisastrous range and roared a swift volley. The group in gray wassplit and broken by this fire, but its riddled body still fought. Themen in blue yelled again and rushed in upon it. 

The youth, in his leapings, saw, as through a mist, a picture of fouror five men stretched upon the ground or writhing upon their knees withbowed heads as if they had been stricken by bolts from the sky. Tottering among them was the rival color bearer, whom the youth saw hadbeen bitten vitally by the bullets of the last formidable volley. Heperceived this man fighting a last struggle, the struggle of one whoselegs are grasped by demons. It was a ghastly battle. Over his facewas the bleach of death, but set upon it was the dark and hard lines ofdesperate purpose. With this terrible grin of resolution he hugged hisprecious flag to him and was stumbling and staggering in his design togo 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 greedilyupon his limbs. Those in advance of the scampering blue men, howlingcheers, leaped at the fence. The despair of the lost was in his eyesas he glanced back at them. 

The youth's friend went over the obstruction in a tumbling heap andsprang at the flag as a panther at prey. He pulled at it and, wrenching it free, swung up its red brilliancy with a mad cry ofexultation even as the color bearer, gasping, lurched over in a finalthroe and, stiffening 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 itwas as if they considered their listener to be a mile away. What hatsand 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 nowsat as prisoners. Some blue men were about them in an eager andcurious circle. The soldiers had trapped strange birds, and there wasan examination. A flurry of fast questions was in the air. 

One of the prisoners was nursing a superficial wound in the foot. Hecuddled it, baby-wise, but he looked up from it often to curse with anastonishing utter abandon straight at the noses of his captors. Heconsigned them to red regions; he called upon the pestilential wrath ofstrange gods. And with it all he was singularly free from recognitionof the finer points of the conduct of prisoners of war. It was as if aclumsy clod had trod upon his toe and he conceived it to be hisprivilege, his duty, to use deep, resentful oaths. 

Another, who was a boy in years, took his plight with great calmnessand apparent good nature. He conversed with the men in blue, studyingtheir faces with his bright and keen eyes. They spoke of battles andconditions. There was an acute interest in all their faces during thisexchange of view points. It seemed a great satisfaction to hear voicesfrom where all had been darkness and speculation. 

The third captive sat with a morose countenance. He preserved astoical and cold attitude. To all advances he made one reply withoutvariation, "Ah, go t' hell!"

The last of the four was always silent and, for the most part, kept hisface turned in unmolested directions. From the views the youthreceived he seemed to be in a state of absolute dejection. Shame wasupon him, and with it profound regret that he was, perhaps, no more tobe counted in the ranks of his fellows. The youth could detect noexpression that would allow him to believe that the other was giving athought to his narrowed future, the pictured dungeons, perhaps, andstarvations and brutalities, liable to the imagination. All to be seenwas shame for captivity and regret for the right to antagonize. 

After the men had celebrated sufficiently they settled down behind theold rail fence, on the opposite side to the one from which their foeshad been driven. A few shot perfunctorily at distant marks. 

There was some long grass. The youth nestled in it and rested, makinga convenient rail support the flag. His friend, jubilant andglorified, holding his treasure with vanity, came to him there. Theysat side by side and congratulated each other. 

Chapter 24

The roarings that had stretched in a long line of sound across the faceof the forest began to grow intermittent and weaker. The stentorianspeeches of the artillery continued in some distant encounter, but thecrashes of the musketry had almost ceased. The youth and his friend ofa sudden looked up, feeling a deadened form of distress at the waningof these noises, which had become a part of life. They could seechanges going on among the troops. There were marchings this way andthat way. A battery wheeled leisurely. On the crest of a small hillwas the thick gleam of many departing muskets. 

The youth arose. "Well, what now, I wonder?" he said. By his tone heseemed to be preparing to resent some new monstrosity in the way ofdins and smashes. He shaded his eyes with his grimy hand and gazedover the field. 

His friend also arose and stared. "I bet we're goin' t' git along outof this an' back over th' river, " said he. 

"Well, I swan!" said the youth. 

They waited, watching. Within a little while the regiment receivedorders to retrace its way. The men got up grunting from the grass, regretting the soft repose. They jerked their stiffened legs, andstretched their arms over their heads. One man swore as he rubbed hiseyes. They all groaned "O Lord!" They had as many objections to thischange 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 amad scamper. 

The regiment marched until it had joined its fellows. The reformedbrigade, in column, aimed through a wood at the road. Directly theywere in a mass of dust-covered troops, and were trudging along in a wayparallel to the enemy's lines as these had been defined by the previousturmoil. 

They passed within view of a stolid white house, and saw in front of itgroups of their comrades lying in wait behind a neat breastwork. A rowof guns were booming at a distant enemy. Shells thrown in reply wereraising clouds of dust and splinters. Horsemen dashed along the lineof intrenchments. 

At this point of its march the division curved away from the field andwent winding off in the direction of the river. When the significanceof this movement had impressed itself upon the youth he turned his headand looked over his shoulder toward the trampled and debris-strewedground. He breathed a breath of new satisfaction. He finally nudgedhis 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 uncertainway. His mind was undergoing a subtle change. It took moments for itto cast off its battleful ways and resume its accustomed course ofthought. Gradually his brain emerged from the clogged clouds, and atlast he was enabled to more closely comprehend himself and circumstance. 

He understood then that the existence of shot and countershot was inthe past. He had dwelt in a land of strange, squalling upheavals andhad come forth. He had been where there was red of blood and black ofpassion, and he was escaped. His first thoughts were given torejoicings at this fact. 

Later he began to study his deeds, his failures, and his achievements. Thus, fresh from scenes where many of his usual machines of reflectionhad been idle, from where he had proceeded sheeplike, he struggled tomarshal all his acts. 

At last they marched before him clearly. From this present view pointhe was enabled to look upon them in spectator fashion and criticisethem with some correctness, for his new condition had already defeatedcertain sympathies. 

Regarding his procession of memory he felt gleeful and unregretting, for in it his public deeds were paraded in great and shiningprominence. Those performances which had been witnessed by his fellowsmarched now in wide purple and gold, having various deflections. Theywent gayly with music. It was pleasure to watch these things. Hespent delightful minutes viewing the gilded images of memory. 

He saw that he was good. He recalled with a thrill of joy therespectful comments of his fellows upon his conduct. 

Nevertheless, the ghost of his flight from the first engagementappeared to him and danced. There were small shoutings in his brainabout these matters. For a moment he blushed, and the light of hissoul flickered with shame. 

A specter of reproach came to him. There loomed the dogging memory ofthe tattered soldier--he who, gored by bullets and faint of blood, hadfretted concerning an imagined wound in another; he who had loaned hislast of strength and intellect for the tall soldier; he who, blind withweariness and pain, had been deserted in the field. 

For an instant a wretched chill of sweat was upon him at the thoughtthat he might be detected in the thing. As he stood persistentlybefore his vision, he gave vent to a cry of sharp irritation and agony. 

His friend turned. "What's the matter, Henry?" he demanded. Theyouth's reply was an outburst of crimson oaths. 

As he marched along the little branch-hung roadway among his prattlingcompanions this vision of cruelty brooded over him. It clung near himalways and darkened his view of these deeds in purple and gold. Whichever way his thoughts turned they were followed by the somberphantom of the desertion in the fields. He looked stealthily at hiscompanions, feeling sure that they must discern in his face evidencesof this pursuit. But they were plodding in ragged array, discussingwith 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 goodlickin'. "

"Lickin'--in yer eye! We ain't licked, sonny. We're goin' down hereaways, swing aroun', an' come in behint 'em. "

"Oh, hush, with your comin' in behint 'em. I've seen all 'a that Iwanta. Don't tell me about comin' in behint--"

"Bill Smithers, he ses he'd rather been in ten hundred battles thanbeen in that heluva hospital. He ses they got shootin' in th'nighttime, an' shells dropped plum among 'em in th' hospital. He sessech hollerin' he never see. "

"Hasbrouck? He's th' best off'cer in this here reg'ment. He's awhale. "

"Didn't I tell yeh we'd come aroun' in behint 'em? Didn't I tell yehso? We--"

"Oh, shet yeh mouth!"

For a time this pursuing recollection of the tattered man took allelation from the youth's veins. He saw his vivid error, and he wasafraid that it would stand before him all his life. He took no sharein 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 thoughtsand scrutinizing each detail of the scene with the tattered soldier. 

Yet gradually he mustered force to put the sin at a distance. And atlast his eyes seemed to open to some new ways. He found that he couldlook back upon the brass and bombast of his earlier gospels and seethem truly. He was gleeful when he discovered that he now despisedthem. 

With this conviction came a store of assurance. He felt a quietmanhood, nonassertive but of sturdy and strong blood. He knew that hewould no more quail before his guides wherever they should point. Hehad been to touch the great death, and found that, after all, it wasbut the great death. He was a man. 

So it came to pass that as he trudged from the place of blood and wrathhis soul changed. He came from hot plowshares to prospects of clovertranquilly, and it was as if hot plowshares were not. Scars faded asflowers. 

It rained. The procession of weary soldiers became a bedraggled train, despondent and muttering, marching with churning effort in a trough ofliquid brown mud under a low, wretched sky. Yet the youth smiled, forhe saw that the world was a world for him, though many discovered it tobe made of oaths and walking sticks. He had rid himself of the redsickness of battle. The sultry nightmare was in the past. He had beenan animal blistered and sweating in the heat and pain of war. Heturned now with a lover's thirst to images of tranquil skies, freshmeadows, cool brooks--an existence of soft and eternal peace. 

Over the river a golden ray of sun came through the hosts of leadenrain clouds. 

THE END.