summaryrefslogtreecommitdiff
path: root/73-h/73-h.htm
blob: aa8f156e22b37063ddb15ab0c44939f8997923a7 (plain) 
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
1001
1002
1003
1004
1005
1006
1007
1008
1009
1010
1011
1012
1013
1014
1015
1016
1017
1018
1019
1020
1021
1022
1023
1024
1025
1026
1027
1028
1029
1030
1031
1032
1033
1034
1035
1036
1037
1038
1039
1040
1041
1042
1043
1044
1045
1046
1047
1048
1049
1050
1051
1052
1053
1054
1055
1056
1057
1058
1059
1060
1061
1062
1063
1064
1065
1066
1067
1068
1069
1070
1071
1072
1073
1074
1075
1076
1077
1078
1079
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088
1089
1090
1091
1092
1093
1094
1095
1096
1097
1098
1099
1100
1101
1102
1103
1104
1105
1106
1107
1108
1109
1110
1111
1112
1113
1114
1115
1116
1117
1118
1119
1120
1121
1122
1123
1124
1125
1126
1127
1128
1129
1130
1131
1132
1133
1134
1135
1136
1137
1138
1139
1140
1141
1142
1143
1144
1145
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152
1153
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178
1179
1180
1181
1182
1183
1184
1185
1186
1187
1188
1189
1190
1191
1192
1193
1194
1195
1196
1197
1198
1199
1200
1201
1202
1203
1204
1205
1206
1207
1208
1209
1210
1211
1212
1213
1214
1215
1216
1217
1218
1219
1220
1221
1222
1223
1224
1225
1226
1227
1228
1229
1230
1231
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256
1257
1258
1259
1260
1261
1262
1263
1264
1265
1266
1267
1268
1269
1270
1271
1272
1273
1274
1275
1276
1277
1278
1279
1280
1281
1282
1283
1284
1285
1286
1287
1288
1289
1290
1291
1292
1293
1294
1295
1296
1297
1298
1299
1300
1301
1302
1303
1304
1305
1306
1307
1308
1309
1310
1311
1312
1313
1314
1315
1316
1317
1318
1319
1320
1321
1322
1323
1324
1325
1326
1327
1328
1329
1330
1331
1332
1333
1334
1335
1336
1337
1338
1339
1340
1341
1342
1343
1344
1345
1346
1347
1348
1349
1350
1351
1352
1353
1354
1355
1356
1357
1358
1359
1360
1361
1362
1363
1364
1365
1366
1367
1368
1369
1370
1371
1372
1373
1374
1375
1376
1377
1378
1379
1380
1381
1382
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391
1392
1393
1394
1395
1396
1397
1398
1399
1400
1401
1402
1403
1404
1405
1406
1407
1408
1409
1410
1411
1412
1413
1414
1415
1416
1417
1418
1419
1420
1421
1422
1423
1424
1425
1426
1427
1428
1429
1430
1431
1432
1433
1434
1435
1436
1437
1438
1439
1440
1441
1442
1443
1444
1445
1446
1447
1448
1449
1450
1451
1452
1453
1454
1455
1456
1457
1458
1459
1460
1461
1462
1463
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485
1486
1487
1488
1489
1490
1491
1492
1493
1494
1495
1496
1497
1498
1499
1500
1501
1502
1503
1504
1505
1506
1507
1508
1509
1510
1511
1512
1513
1514
1515
1516
1517
1518
1519
1520
1521
1522
1523
1524
1525
1526
1527
1528
1529
1530
1531
1532
1533
1534
1535
1536
1537
1538
1539
1540
1541
1542
1543
1544
1545
1546
1547
1548
1549
1550
1551
1552
1553
1554
1555
1556
1557
1558
1559
1560
1561
1562
1563
1564
1565
1566
1567
1568
1569
1570
1571
1572
1573
1574
1575
1576
1577
1578
1579
1580
1581
1582
1583
1584
1585
1586
1587
1588
1589
1590
1591
1592
1593
1594
1595
1596
1597
1598
1599
1600
1601
1602
1603
1604
1605
1606
1607
1608
1609
1610
1611
1612
1613
1614
1615
1616
1617
1618
1619
1620
1621
1622
1623
1624
1625
1626
1627
1628
1629
1630
1631
1632
1633
1634
1635
1636
1637
1638
1639
1640
1641
1642
1643
1644
1645
1646
1647
1648
1649
1650
1651
1652
1653
1654
1655
1656
1657
1658
1659
1660
1661
1662
1663
1664
1665
1666
1667
1668
1669
1670
1671
1672
1673
1674
1675
1676
1677
1678
1679
1680
1681
1682
1683
1684
1685
1686
1687
1688
1689
1690
1691
1692
1693
1694
1695
1696
1697
1698
1699
1700
1701
1702
1703
1704
1705
1706
1707
1708
1709
1710
1711
1712
1713
1714
1715
1716
1717
1718
1719
1720
1721
1722
1723
1724
1725
1726
1727
1728
1729
1730
1731
1732
1733
1734
1735
1736
1737
1738
1739
1740
1741
1742
1743
1744
1745
1746
1747
1748
1749
1750
1751
1752
1753
1754
1755
1756
1757
1758
1759
1760
1761
1762
1763
1764
1765
1766
1767
1768
1769
1770
1771
1772
1773
1774
1775
1776
1777
1778
1779
1780
1781
1782
1783
1784
1785
1786
1787
1788
1789
1790
1791
1792
1793
1794
1795
1796
1797
1798
1799
1800
1801
1802
1803
1804
1805
1806
1807
1808
1809
1810
1811
1812
1813
1814
1815
1816
1817
1818
1819
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
1857
1858
1859
1860
1861
1862
1863
1864
1865
1866
1867
1868
1869
1870
1871
1872
1873
1874
1875
1876
1877
1878
1879
1880
1881
1882
1883
1884
1885
1886
1887
1888
1889
1890
1891
1892
1893
1894
1895
1896
1897
1898
1899
1900
1901
1902
1903
1904
1905
1906
1907
1908
1909
1910
1911
1912
1913
1914
1915
1916
1917
1918
1919
1920
1921
1922
1923
1924
1925
1926
1927
1928
1929
1930
1931
1932
1933
1934
1935
1936
1937
1938
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
1960
1961
1962
1963
1964
1965
1966
1967
1968
1969
1970
1971
1972
1973
1974
1975
1976
1977
1978
1979
1980
1981
1982
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
2015
2016
2017
2018
2019
2020
2021
2022
2023
2024
2025
2026
2027
2028
2029
2030
2031
2032
2033
2034
2035
2036
2037
2038
2039
2040
2041
2042
2043
2044
2045
2046
2047
2048
2049
2050
2051
2052
2053
2054
2055
2056
2057
2058
2059
2060
2061
2062
2063
2064
2065
2066
2067
2068
2069
2070
2071
2072
2073
2074
2075
2076
2077
2078
2079
2080
2081
2082
2083
2084
2085
2086
2087
2088
2089
2090
2091
2092
2093
2094
2095
2096
2097
2098
2099
2100
2101
2102
2103
2104
2105
2106
2107
2108
2109
2110
2111
2112
2113
2114
2115
2116
2117
2118
2119
2120
2121
2122
2123
2124
2125
2126
2127
2128
2129
2130
2131
2132
2133
2134
2135
2136
2137
2138
2139
2140
2141
2142
2143
2144
2145
2146
2147
2148
2149
2150
2151
2152
2153
2154
2155
2156
2157
2158
2159
2160
2161
2162
2163
2164
2165
2166
2167
2168
2169
2170
2171
2172
2173
2174
2175
2176
2177
2178
2179
2180
2181
2182
2183
2184
2185
2186
2187
2188
2189
2190
2191
2192
2193
2194
2195
2196
2197
2198
2199
2200
2201
2202
2203
2204
2205
2206
2207
2208
2209
2210
2211
2212
2213
2214
2215
2216
2217
2218
2219
2220
2221
2222
2223
2224
2225
2226
2227
2228
2229
2230
2231
2232
2233
2234
2235
2236
2237
2238
2239
2240
2241
2242
2243
2244
2245
2246
2247
2248
2249
2250
2251
2252
2253
2254
2255
2256
2257
2258
2259
2260
2261
2262
2263
2264
2265
2266
2267
2268
2269
2270
2271
2272
2273
2274
2275
2276
2277
2278
2279
2280
2281
2282
2283
2284
2285
2286
2287
2288
2289
2290
2291
2292
2293
2294
2295
2296
2297
2298
2299
2300
2301
2302
2303
2304
2305
2306
2307
2308
2309
2310
2311
2312
2313
2314
2315
2316
2317
2318
2319
2320
2321
2322
2323
2324
2325
2326
2327
2328
2329
2330
2331
2332
2333
2334
2335
2336
2337
2338
2339
2340
2341
2342
2343
2344
2345
2346
2347
2348
2349
2350
2351
2352
2353
2354
2355
2356
2357
2358
2359
2360
2361
2362
2363
2364
2365
2366
2367
2368
2369
2370
2371
2372
2373
2374
2375
2376
2377
2378
2379
2380
2381
2382
2383
2384
2385
2386
2387
2388
2389
2390
2391
2392
2393
2394
2395
2396
2397
2398
2399
2400
2401
2402
2403
2404
2405
2406
2407
2408
2409
2410
2411
2412
2413
2414
2415
2416
2417
2418
2419
2420
2421
2422
2423
2424
2425
2426
2427
2428
2429
2430
2431
2432
2433
2434
2435
2436
2437
2438
2439
2440
2441
2442
2443
2444
2445
2446
2447
2448
2449
2450
2451
2452
2453
2454
2455
2456
2457
2458
2459
2460
2461
2462
2463
2464
2465
2466
2467
2468
2469
2470
2471
2472
2473
2474
2475
2476
2477
2478
2479
2480
2481
2482
2483
2484
2485
2486
2487
2488
2489
2490
2491
2492
2493
2494
2495
2496
2497
2498
2499
2500
2501
2502
2503
2504
2505
2506
2507
2508
2509
2510
2511
2512
2513
2514
2515
2516
2517
2518
2519
2520
2521
2522
2523
2524
2525
2526
2527
2528
2529
2530
2531
2532
2533
2534
2535
2536
2537
2538
2539
2540
2541
2542
2543
2544
2545
2546
2547
2548
2549
2550
2551
2552
2553
2554
2555
2556
2557
2558
2559
2560
2561
2562
2563
2564
2565
2566
2567
2568
2569
2570
2571
2572
2573
2574
2575
2576
2577
2578
2579
2580
2581
2582
2583
2584
2585
2586
2587
2588
2589
2590
2591
2592
2593
2594
2595
2596
2597
2598
2599
2600
2601
2602
2603
2604
2605
2606
2607
2608
2609
2610
2611
2612
2613
2614
2615
2616
2617
2618
2619
2620
2621
2622
2623
2624
2625
2626
2627
2628
2629
2630
2631
2632
2633
2634
2635
2636
2637
2638
2639
2640
2641
2642
2643
2644
2645
2646
2647
2648
2649
2650
2651
2652
2653
2654
2655
2656
2657
2658
2659
2660
2661
2662
2663
2664
2665
2666
2667
2668
2669
2670
2671
2672
2673
2674
2675
2676
2677
2678
2679
2680
2681
2682
2683
2684
2685
2686
2687
2688
2689
2690
2691
2692
2693
2694
2695
2696
2697
2698
2699
2700
2701
2702
2703
2704
2705
2706
2707
2708
2709
2710
2711
2712
2713
2714
2715
2716
2717
2718
2719
2720
2721
2722
2723
2724
2725
2726
2727
2728
2729
2730
2731
2732
2733
2734
2735
2736
2737
2738
2739
2740
2741
2742
2743
2744
2745
2746
2747
2748
2749
2750
2751
2752
2753
2754
2755
2756
2757
2758
2759
2760
2761
2762
2763
2764
2765
2766
2767
2768
2769
2770
2771
2772
2773
2774
2775
2776
2777
2778
2779
2780
2781
2782
2783
2784
2785
2786
2787
2788
2789
2790
2791
2792
2793
2794
2795
2796
2797
2798
2799
2800
2801
2802
2803
2804
2805
2806
2807
2808
2809
2810
2811
2812
2813
2814
2815
2816
2817
2818
2819
2820
2821
2822
2823
2824
2825
2826
2827
2828
2829
2830
2831
2832
2833
2834
2835
2836
2837
2838
2839
2840
2841
2842
2843
2844
2845
2846
2847
2848
2849
2850
2851
2852
2853
2854
2855
2856
2857
2858
2859
2860
2861
2862
2863
2864
2865
2866
2867
2868
2869
2870
2871
2872
2873
2874
2875
2876
2877
2878
2879
2880
2881
2882
2883
2884
2885
2886
2887
2888
2889
2890
2891
2892
2893
2894
2895
2896
2897
2898
2899
2900
2901
2902
2903
2904
2905
2906
2907
2908
2909
2910
2911
2912
2913
2914
2915
2916
2917
2918
2919
2920
2921
2922
2923
2924
2925
2926
2927
2928
2929
2930
2931
2932
2933
2934
2935
2936
2937
2938
2939
2940
2941
2942
2943
2944
2945
2946
2947
2948
2949
2950
2951
2952
2953
2954
2955
2956
2957
2958
2959
2960
2961
2962
2963
2964
2965
2966
2967
2968
2969
2970
2971
2972
2973
2974
2975
2976
2977
2978
2979
2980
2981
2982
2983
2984
2985
2986
2987
2988
2989
2990
2991
2992
2993
2994
2995
2996
2997
2998
2999
3000
3001
3002
3003
3004
3005
3006
3007
3008
3009
3010
3011
3012
3013
3014
3015
3016
3017
3018
3019
3020
3021
3022
3023
3024
3025
3026
3027
3028
3029
3030
3031
3032
3033
3034
3035
3036
3037
3038
3039
3040
3041
3042
3043
3044
3045
3046
3047
3048
3049
3050
3051
3052
3053
3054
3055
3056
3057
3058
3059
3060
3061
3062
3063
3064
3065
3066
3067
3068
3069
3070
3071
3072
3073
3074
3075
3076
3077
3078
3079
3080
3081
3082
3083
3084
3085
3086
3087
3088
3089
3090
3091
3092
3093
3094
3095
3096
3097
3098
3099
3100
3101
3102
3103
3104
3105
3106
3107
3108
3109
3110
3111
3112
3113
3114
3115
3116
3117
3118
3119
3120
3121
3122
3123
3124
3125
3126
3127
3128
3129
3130
3131
3132
3133
3134
3135
3136
3137
3138
3139
3140
3141
3142
3143
3144
3145
3146
3147
3148
3149
3150
3151
3152
3153
3154
3155
3156
3157
3158
3159
3160
3161
3162
3163
3164
3165
3166
3167
3168
3169
3170
3171
3172
3173
3174
3175
3176
3177
3178
3179
3180
3181
3182
3183
3184
3185
3186
3187
3188
3189
3190
3191
3192
3193
3194
3195
3196
3197
3198
3199
3200
3201
3202
3203
3204
3205
3206
3207
3208
3209
3210
3211
3212
3213
3214
3215
3216
3217
3218
3219
3220
3221
3222
3223
3224
3225
3226
3227
3228
3229
3230
3231
3232
3233
3234
3235
3236
3237
3238
3239
3240
3241
3242
3243
3244
3245
3246
3247
3248
3249
3250
3251
3252
3253
3254
3255
3256
3257
3258
3259
3260
3261
3262
3263
3264
3265
3266
3267
3268
3269
3270
3271
3272
3273
3274
3275
3276
3277
3278
3279
3280
3281
3282
3283
3284
3285
3286
3287
3288
3289
3290
3291
3292
3293
3294
3295
3296
3297
3298
3299
3300
3301
3302
3303
3304
3305
3306
3307
3308
3309
3310
3311
3312
3313
3314
3315
3316
3317
3318
3319
3320
3321
3322
3323
3324
3325
3326
3327
3328
3329
3330
3331
3332
3333
3334
3335
3336
3337
3338
3339
3340
3341
3342
3343
3344
3345
3346
3347
3348
3349
3350
3351
3352
3353
3354
3355
3356
3357
3358
3359
3360
3361
3362
3363
3364
3365
3366
3367
3368
3369
3370
3371
3372
3373
3374
3375
3376
3377
3378
3379
3380
3381
3382
3383
3384
3385
3386
3387
3388
3389
3390
3391
3392
3393
3394
3395
3396
3397
3398
3399
3400
3401
3402
3403
3404
3405
3406
3407
3408
3409
3410
3411
3412
3413
3414
3415
3416
3417
3418
3419
3420
3421
3422
3423
3424
3425
3426
3427
3428
3429
3430
3431
3432
3433
3434
3435
3436
3437
3438
3439
3440
3441
3442
3443
3444
3445
3446
3447
3448
3449
3450
3451
3452
3453
3454
3455
3456
3457
3458
3459
3460
3461
3462
3463
3464
3465
3466
3467
3468
3469
3470
3471
3472
3473
3474
3475
3476
3477
3478
3479
3480
3481
3482
3483
3484
3485
3486
3487
3488
3489
3490
3491
3492
3493
3494
3495
3496
3497
3498
3499
3500
3501
3502
3503
3504
3505
3506
3507
3508
3509
3510
3511
3512
3513
3514
3515
3516
3517
3518
3519
3520
3521
3522
3523
3524
3525
3526
3527
3528
3529
3530
3531
3532
3533
3534
3535
3536
3537
3538
3539
3540
3541
3542
3543
3544
3545
3546
3547
3548
3549
3550
3551
3552
3553
3554
3555
3556
3557
3558
3559
3560
3561
3562
3563
3564
3565
3566
3567
3568
3569
3570
3571
3572
3573
3574
3575
3576
3577
3578
3579
3580
3581
3582
3583
3584
3585
3586
3587
3588
3589
3590
3591
3592
3593
3594
3595
3596
3597
3598
3599
3600
3601
3602
3603
3604
3605
3606
3607
3608
3609
3610
3611
3612
3613
3614
3615
3616
3617
3618
3619
3620
3621
3622
3623
3624
3625
3626
3627
3628
3629
3630
3631
3632
3633
3634
3635
3636
3637
3638
3639
3640
3641
3642
3643
3644
3645
3646
3647
3648
3649
3650
3651
3652
3653
3654
3655
3656
3657
3658
3659
3660
3661
3662
3663
3664
3665
3666
3667
3668
3669
3670
3671
3672
3673
3674
3675
3676
3677
3678
3679
3680
3681
3682
3683
3684
3685
3686
3687
3688
3689
3690
3691
3692
3693
3694
3695
3696
3697
3698
3699
3700
3701
3702
3703
3704
3705
3706
3707
3708
3709
3710
3711
3712
3713
3714
3715
3716
3717
3718
3719
3720
3721
3722
3723
3724
3725
3726
3727
3728
3729
3730
3731
3732
3733
3734
3735
3736
3737
3738
3739
3740
3741
3742
3743
3744
3745
3746
3747
3748
3749
3750
3751
3752
3753
3754
3755
3756
3757
3758
3759
3760
3761
3762
3763
3764
3765
3766
3767
3768
3769
3770
3771
3772
3773
3774
3775
3776
3777
3778
3779
3780
3781
3782
3783
3784
3785
3786
3787
3788
3789
3790
3791
3792
3793
3794
3795
3796
3797
3798
3799
3800
3801
3802
3803
3804
3805
3806
3807
3808
3809
3810
3811
3812
3813
3814
3815
3816
3817
3818
3819
3820
3821
3822
3823
3824
3825
3826
3827
3828
3829
3830
3831
3832
3833
3834
3835
3836
3837
3838
3839
3840
3841
3842
3843
3844
3845
3846
3847
3848
3849
3850
3851
3852
3853
3854
3855
3856
3857
3858
3859
3860
3861
3862
3863
3864
3865
3866
3867
3868
3869
3870
3871
3872
3873
3874
3875
3876
3877
3878
3879
3880
3881
3882
3883
3884
3885
3886
3887
3888
3889
3890
3891
3892
3893
3894
3895
3896
3897
3898
3899
3900
3901
3902
3903
3904
3905
3906
3907
3908
3909
3910
3911
3912
3913
3914
3915
3916
3917
3918
3919
3920
3921
3922
3923
3924
3925
3926
3927
3928
3929
3930
3931
3932
3933
3934
3935
3936
3937
3938
3939
3940
3941
3942
3943
3944
3945
3946
3947
3948
3949
3950
3951
3952
3953
3954
3955
3956
3957
3958
3959
3960
3961
3962
3963
3964
3965
3966
3967
3968
3969
3970
3971
3972
3973
3974
3975
3976
3977
3978
3979
3980
3981
3982
3983
3984
3985
3986
3987
3988
3989
3990
3991
3992
3993
3994
3995
3996
3997
3998
3999
4000
4001
4002
4003
4004
4005
4006
4007
4008
4009
4010
4011
4012
4013
4014
4015
4016
4017
4018
4019
4020
4021
4022
4023
4024
4025
4026
4027
4028
4029
4030
4031
4032
4033
4034
4035
4036
4037
4038
4039
4040
4041
4042
4043
4044
4045
4046
4047
4048
4049
4050
4051
4052
4053
4054
4055
4056
4057
4058
4059
4060
4061
4062
4063
4064
4065
4066
4067
4068
4069
4070
4071
4072
4073
4074
4075
4076
4077
4078
4079
4080
4081
4082
4083
4084
4085
4086
4087
4088
4089
4090
4091
4092
4093
4094
4095
4096
4097
4098
4099
4100
4101
4102
4103
4104
4105
4106
4107
4108
4109
4110
4111
4112
4113
4114
4115
4116
4117
4118
4119
4120
4121
4122
4123
4124
4125
4126
4127
4128
4129
4130
4131
4132
4133
4134
4135
4136
4137
4138
4139
4140
4141
4142
4143
4144
4145
4146
4147
4148
4149
4150
4151
4152
4153
4154
4155
4156
4157
4158
4159
4160
4161
4162
4163
4164
4165
4166
4167
4168
4169
4170
4171
4172
4173
4174
4175
4176
4177
4178
4179
4180
4181
4182
4183
4184
4185
4186
4187
4188
4189
4190
4191
4192
4193
4194
4195
4196
4197
4198
4199
4200
4201
4202
4203
4204
4205
4206
4207
4208
4209
4210
4211
4212
4213
4214
4215
4216
4217
4218
4219
4220
4221
4222
4223
4224
4225
4226
4227
4228
4229
4230
4231
4232
4233
4234
4235
4236
4237
4238
4239
4240
4241
4242
4243
4244
4245
4246
4247
4248
4249
4250
4251
4252
4253
4254
4255
4256
4257
4258
4259
4260
4261
4262
4263
4264
4265
4266
4267
4268
4269
4270
4271
4272
4273
4274
4275
4276
4277
4278
4279
4280
4281
4282
4283
4284
4285
4286
4287
4288
4289
4290
4291
4292
4293
4294
4295
4296
4297
4298
4299
4300
4301
4302
4303
4304
4305
4306
4307
4308
4309
4310
4311
4312
4313
4314
4315
4316
4317
4318
4319
4320
4321
4322
4323
4324
4325
4326
4327
4328
4329
4330
4331
4332
4333
4334
4335
4336
4337
4338
4339
4340
4341
4342
4343
4344
4345
4346
4347
4348
4349
4350
4351
4352
4353
4354
4355
4356
4357
4358
4359
4360
4361
4362
4363
4364
4365
4366
4367
4368
4369
4370
4371
4372
4373
4374
4375
4376
4377
4378
4379
4380
4381
4382
4383
4384
4385
4386
4387
4388
4389
4390
4391
4392
4393
4394
4395
4396
4397
4398
4399
4400
4401
4402
4403
4404
4405
4406
4407
4408
4409
4410
4411
4412
4413
4414
4415
4416
4417
4418
4419
4420
4421
4422
4423
4424
4425
4426
4427
4428
4429
4430
4431
4432
4433
4434
4435
4436
4437
4438
4439
4440
4441
4442
4443
4444
4445
4446
4447
4448
4449
4450
4451
4452
4453
4454
4455
4456
4457
4458
4459
4460
4461
4462
4463
4464
4465
4466
4467
4468
4469
4470
4471
4472
4473
4474
4475
4476
4477
4478
4479
4480
4481
4482
4483
4484
4485
4486
4487
4488
4489
4490
4491
4492
4493
4494
4495
4496
4497
4498
4499
4500
4501
4502
4503
4504
4505
4506
4507
4508
4509
4510
4511
4512
4513
4514
4515
4516
4517
4518
4519
4520
4521
4522
4523
4524
4525
4526
4527
4528
4529
4530
4531
4532
4533
4534
4535
4536
4537
4538
4539
4540
4541
4542
4543
4544
4545
4546
4547
4548
4549
4550
4551
4552
4553
4554
4555
4556
4557
4558
4559
4560
4561
4562
4563
4564
4565
4566
4567
4568
4569
4570
4571
4572
4573
4574
4575
4576
4577
4578
4579
4580
4581
4582
4583
4584
4585
4586
4587
4588
4589
4590
4591
4592
4593
4594
4595
4596
4597
4598
4599
4600
4601
4602
4603
4604
4605
4606
4607
4608
4609
4610
4611
4612
4613
4614
4615
4616
4617
4618
4619
4620
4621
4622
4623
4624
4625
4626
4627
4628
4629
4630
4631
4632
4633
4634
4635
4636
4637
4638
4639
4640
4641
4642
4643
4644
4645
4646
4647
4648
4649
4650
4651
4652
4653
4654
4655
4656
4657
4658
4659
4660
4661
4662
4663
4664
4665
4666
4667
4668
4669
4670
4671
4672
4673
4674
4675
4676
4677
4678
4679
4680
4681
4682
4683
4684
4685
4686
4687
4688
4689
4690
4691
4692
4693
4694
4695
4696
4697
4698
4699
4700
4701
4702
4703
4704
4705
4706
4707
4708
4709
4710
4711
4712
4713
4714
4715
4716
4717
4718
4719
4720
4721
4722
4723
4724
4725
4726
4727
4728
4729
4730
4731
4732
4733
4734
4735
4736
4737
4738
4739
4740
4741
4742
4743
4744
4745
4746
4747
4748
4749
4750
4751
4752
4753
4754
4755
4756
4757
4758
4759
4760
4761
4762
4763
4764
4765
4766
4767
4768
4769
4770
4771
4772
4773
4774
4775
4776
4777
4778
4779
4780
4781
4782
4783
4784
4785
4786
4787
4788
4789
4790
4791
4792
4793
4794
4795
4796
4797
4798
4799
4800
4801
4802
4803
4804
4805
4806
4807
4808
4809
4810
4811
4812
4813
4814
4815
4816
4817
4818
4819
4820
4821
4822
4823
4824
4825
4826
4827
4828
4829
4830
4831
4832
4833
4834
4835
4836
4837
4838
4839
4840
4841
4842
4843
4844
4845
4846
4847
4848
4849
4850
4851
4852
4853
4854
4855
4856
4857
4858
4859
4860
4861
4862
4863
4864
4865
4866
4867
4868
4869
4870
4871
4872
4873
4874
4875
4876
4877
4878
4879
4880
4881
4882
4883
4884
4885
4886
4887
4888
4889
4890
4891
4892
4893
4894
4895
4896
4897
4898
4899
4900
4901
4902
4903
4904
4905
4906
4907
4908
4909
4910
4911
4912
4913
4914
4915
4916
4917
4918
4919
4920
4921
4922
4923
4924
4925
4926
4927
4928
4929
4930
4931
4932
4933
4934
4935
4936
4937
4938
4939
4940
4941
4942
4943
4944
4945
4946
4947
4948
4949
4950
4951
4952
4953
4954
4955
4956
4957
4958
4959
4960
4961
4962
4963
4964
4965
4966
4967
4968
4969
4970
4971
4972
4973
4974
4975
4976
4977
4978
4979
4980
4981
4982
4983
4984
4985
4986
4987
4988
4989
4990
4991
4992
4993
4994
4995
4996
4997
4998
4999
5000
5001
5002
5003
5004
5005
5006
5007
5008
5009
5010
5011
5012
5013
5014
5015
5016
5017
5018
5019
5020
5021
5022
5023
5024
5025
5026
5027
5028
5029
5030
5031
5032
5033
5034
5035
5036
5037
5038
5039
5040
5041
5042
5043
5044
5045
5046
5047
5048
5049
5050
5051
5052
5053
5054
5055
5056
5057
5058
5059
5060
5061
5062
5063
5064
5065
5066
5067
5068
5069
5070
5071
5072
5073
5074
5075
5076
5077
5078
5079
5080
5081
5082
5083
5084
5085
5086
5087
5088
5089
5090
5091
5092
5093
5094
5095
5096
5097
5098
5099
5100
5101
5102
5103
5104
5105
5106
5107
5108
5109
5110
5111
5112
5113
5114
5115
5116
5117
5118
5119
5120
5121
5122
5123
5124
5125
5126
5127
5128
5129
5130
5131
5132
5133
5134
5135
5136
5137
5138
5139
5140
5141
5142
5143
5144
5145
5146
5147
5148
5149
5150
5151
5152
5153
5154
5155
5156
5157
5158
5159
5160
5161
5162
5163
5164
5165
5166
5167
5168
5169
5170
5171
5172
5173
5174
5175
5176
5177
5178
5179
5180
5181
5182
5183
5184
5185
5186
5187
5188
5189
5190
5191
5192
5193
5194
5195
5196
5197
5198
5199
5200
5201
5202
5203
5204
5205
5206
5207
5208
5209
5210
5211
5212
5213
5214
5215
5216
5217
5218
5219
5220
5221
5222
5223
5224
5225
5226
5227
5228
5229
5230
5231
5232
5233
5234
5235
5236
5237
5238
5239
5240
5241
5242
5243
5244
5245
5246
5247
5248
5249
5250
5251
5252
5253
5254
5255
5256
5257
5258
5259
5260
5261
5262
5263
5264
5265
5266
5267
5268
5269
5270
5271
5272
5273
5274
5275
5276
5277
5278
5279
5280
5281
5282
5283
5284
5285
5286
5287
5288
5289
5290
5291
5292
5293
5294
5295
5296
5297
5298
5299
5300
5301
5302
5303
5304
5305
5306
5307
5308
5309
5310
5311
5312
5313
5314
5315
5316
5317
5318
5319
5320
5321
5322
5323
5324
5325
5326
5327
5328
5329
5330
5331
5332
5333
5334
5335
5336
5337
5338
5339
5340
5341
5342
5343
5344
5345
5346
5347
5348
5349
5350
5351
5352
5353
5354
5355
5356
5357
5358
5359
5360
5361
5362
5363
5364
5365
5366
5367
5368
5369
5370
5371
5372
5373
5374
5375
5376
5377
5378
5379
5380
5381
5382
5383
5384
5385
5386
5387
5388
5389
5390
5391
5392
5393
5394
5395
5396
5397
5398
5399
5400
5401
5402
5403
5404
5405
5406
5407
5408
5409
5410
5411
5412
5413
5414
5415
5416
5417
5418
5419
5420
5421
5422
5423
5424
5425
5426
5427
5428
5429
5430
5431
5432
5433
5434
5435
5436
5437
5438
5439
5440
5441
5442
5443
5444
5445
5446
5447
5448
5449
5450
5451
5452
5453
5454
5455
5456
5457
5458
5459
5460
5461
5462
5463
5464
5465
5466
5467
5468
5469
5470
5471
5472
5473
5474
5475
5476
5477
5478
5479
5480
5481
5482
5483
5484
5485
5486
5487
5488
5489
5490
5491
5492
5493
5494
5495
5496
5497
5498
5499
5500
5501
5502
5503
5504
5505
5506
5507
5508
5509
5510
5511
5512
5513
5514
5515
5516
5517
5518
5519
5520
5521
5522
5523
5524
5525
5526
5527
5528
5529
5530
5531
5532
5533
5534
5535
5536
5537
5538
5539
5540
5541
5542
5543
5544
5545
5546
5547
5548
5549
5550
5551
5552
5553
5554
5555
5556
5557
5558
5559
5560
5561
5562
5563
5564
5565
5566
5567
5568
5569
5570
5571
5572
5573
5574
5575
5576
5577
5578
5579
5580
5581
5582
5583
5584
5585
5586
5587
5588
5589
5590
5591
5592
5593
5594
5595
5596
5597
5598
5599
5600
5601
5602
5603
5604
5605
5606
5607
5608
5609
5610
5611
5612
5613
5614
5615
5616
5617
5618
5619
5620
5621
5622
5623
5624
5625
5626
5627
5628
5629
5630
5631
5632
5633
5634
5635
5636
5637
5638
5639
5640
5641
5642
5643
5644
5645
5646
5647
5648
5649
5650
5651
5652
5653
5654
5655
5656
5657
5658
5659
5660
5661
5662
5663
5664
5665
5666
5667
5668
5669
5670
5671
5672
5673
5674
5675
5676
5677
5678
5679
5680
5681
5682
5683
5684
5685
5686
5687
5688
5689
5690
5691
5692
5693
5694
5695
5696
5697
5698
5699
5700
5701
5702
5703
5704
5705
5706
5707
5708
5709
5710
5711
5712
5713
5714
5715
5716
5717
5718
5719
5720
5721
5722
5723
5724
5725
5726
5727
5728
5729
5730
5731
5732
5733
5734
5735
5736
5737
5738
5739
5740
5741
5742
5743
5744
5745
5746
5747
5748
5749
5750
5751
5752
5753
5754
5755
5756
5757
5758
5759
5760
5761
5762
5763
5764
5765
5766
5767
5768
5769
5770
5771
5772
5773
5774
5775
5776
5777
5778
5779
5780
5781
5782
5783
5784
5785
5786
5787
5788
5789
5790
5791
5792
5793
5794
5795
5796
5797
5798
5799
5800
5801
5802
5803
5804
5805
5806
5807
5808
5809
5810
5811
5812
5813
5814
5815
5816
5817
5818
5819
5820
5821
5822
5823
5824
5825
5826
5827
5828
5829
5830
5831
5832
5833
5834
5835
5836
5837
5838
5839
5840
5841
5842
5843
5844
5845
5846
5847
5848
5849
5850
5851
5852
5853
5854
5855
5856
5857
5858
5859
5860
5861
5862
5863
5864
5865
5866
5867
5868
5869
5870
5871
5872
5873
5874
5875
5876
5877
5878
5879
5880
5881
5882
5883
5884
5885
5886
5887
5888
5889
5890
5891
5892
5893
5894
5895
5896
5897
5898
5899
5900
5901
5902
5903
5904
5905
5906
5907
5908
5909
5910
5911
5912
5913
5914
5915
5916
5917
5918
5919
5920
5921
5922
5923
5924
5925
5926
5927
5928
5929
5930
5931
5932
5933
5934
5935
5936
5937
5938
5939
5940
5941
5942
5943
5944
5945
5946
5947
5948
5949
5950
5951
5952
5953
5954
5955
5956
5957
5958
5959
5960
5961
5962
5963
5964
5965
5966
5967
5968
5969
5970
5971
5972
5973
5974
5975
5976
5977
5978
5979
5980
5981
5982
5983
5984
5985
5986
5987
5988
5989
5990
5991
5992
5993
5994
5995
5996
5997
5998
5999
6000
6001
6002
6003
6004
6005
6006
6007
6008
6009
6010
6011
6012
6013
6014
6015
6016
6017
6018
6019
6020
6021
6022
6023
6024
6025
6026
6027
6028
6029
6030
6031
6032
6033
6034
6035
6036
6037
6038
6039
6040
6041
6042
6043
6044
6045
6046
6047
6048
6049
6050
6051
6052
6053
6054
6055
6056
6057
6058
6059
6060
6061
6062
6063
6064
6065
6066
6067
6068
6069
6070
6071
6072
6073
6074
6075
6076
6077
6078
6079
6080
6081
6082
6083
6084
6085
6086
6087
6088
6089
6090
6091
6092
6093
6094
6095
6096
6097
6098
6099
6100
6101
6102
6103
6104
6105
6106
6107
6108
6109
6110
6111
6112
6113
6114
6115
6116
6117
6118
6119
6120
6121
6122
6123
6124
6125
6126
6127
6128
6129
6130
6131
6132
6133
6134
6135
6136
6137
6138
6139
6140
6141
6142
6143
6144
6145
6146
6147
6148
6149
6150
6151
6152
6153
6154
6155
6156
6157
6158
6159
6160
6161
6162
6163
6164
6165
6166
6167
6168
6169
6170
6171
6172
6173
6174
6175
6176
6177
6178
6179
6180
6181
6182
6183
6184
6185
6186
6187
6188
6189
6190
6191
6192
6193
6194
6195
6196
6197
6198
6199
6200
6201
6202
6203
6204
6205
6206
6207
6208
6209
6210
6211
6212
6213
6214
6215
6216
6217
6218
6219
6220
6221
6222
6223
6224
6225
6226
6227
6228
6229
6230
6231
6232
6233
6234
6235
6236
6237
6238
6239
6240
6241
6242
6243
6244
6245
6246
6247
6248
6249
6250
6251
6252
6253
6254
6255
6256
6257
6258
6259
6260
6261
6262
6263
6264
6265
6266
6267
6268
6269
6270
6271
6272
6273
6274
6275
6276
6277
6278
6279
6280
6281
6282
6283
6284
6285
6286
6287
6288
6289
6290
6291
6292
6293
6294
6295
6296
6297
6298
6299
6300
6301
6302
6303
6304
6305
6306
6307
6308
6309
6310
6311
6312
6313
6314
6315
6316
6317
6318
6319
6320
6321
6322
6323
6324
6325
6326
6327
6328
6329
6330
6331
6332
6333
6334
6335
6336
6337
6338
6339
6340
6341
6342
6343
6344
6345
6346
6347
6348
6349
6350
6351
6352
6353
6354
6355
6356
6357
6358
6359
6360
6361
6362
6363
6364
6365
6366
6367
6368
6369
6370
6371
6372
6373
6374
6375
6376
6377
6378
6379
6380
6381
6382
6383
6384
6385
6386
6387
6388
6389
6390
6391
6392
6393
6394
6395
6396
6397
6398
6399
6400
6401
6402
6403
6404
6405
6406
6407
6408
6409
6410
6411
6412
6413
6414
6415
6416
6417
6418
6419
6420
6421
6422
6423
6424
6425
6426
6427
6428
6429
6430
6431
6432
6433
6434
6435
6436
6437
6438
6439
6440
6441
6442
6443
6444
6445
6446
6447
6448
6449
6450
6451
6452
6453
6454
6455
6456
6457
6458
6459
6460
6461
6462
6463
6464
6465
6466
6467
6468
6469
6470
6471
6472
6473
6474
6475
6476
6477
6478
6479
6480
6481
6482
6483
6484
6485
6486
6487
6488
6489
6490
6491
6492
6493
6494
6495
6496
6497
6498
6499
6500
6501
6502
6503
6504
6505
6506
6507
6508
6509
6510
6511
6512
6513
6514
6515
6516
6517
6518
6519
6520
6521
6522
6523
6524
6525
6526
6527
6528
6529
6530
6531
6532
6533
6534
6535
6536
6537
6538
6539
6540
6541
6542
6543
6544
6545
6546
6547
6548
6549
6550
6551
6552
6553
6554
6555
6556
6557
6558
6559
6560
6561
6562
6563
6564
6565
6566
6567
6568
6569
6570
6571
6572
6573
6574
6575
6576
6577
6578
6579
6580
6581
6582
6583
6584
6585
6586
6587
6588
6589
6590
6591
6592
6593
6594
6595
6596
6597
6598
6599
6600
6601
6602
6603
6604
6605
6606
6607
6608
6609
6610
6611
6612
6613
6614
6615
6616
6617
6618
6619
6620
6621
6622
6623
6624
6625
6626
6627
6628
6629
6630
6631
6632
6633
6634
6635
6636
6637
6638
6639
6640
6641
6642
6643
6644
6645
6646
6647
6648
6649
6650
6651
6652
6653
6654
6655
6656
6657
6658
6659
6660
6661
6662
6663
6664
6665
6666
6667
6668
6669
6670
6671
6672
6673
6674
6675
6676
6677
6678
6679
6680
6681
6682
6683
6684
6685
6686
6687
6688
6689
6690
6691
6692
6693
6694
6695
6696
6697
6698
6699
6700
6701
6702
6703
6704
6705
6706
6707
6708
6709
6710
6711
6712
6713
6714
6715
6716
6717
6718
6719
6720
6721
6722
6723
6724
6725
6726
6727
6728
6729
6730
6731
6732
6733
6734
6735
6736
6737
6738
6739
6740
6741
6742
6743
6744
6745
6746
6747
6748
6749
6750
6751
6752
6753
6754
6755
6756
6757
6758
6759
6760
6761
6762
6763
6764
6765
6766
6767
6768
6769
6770
6771
6772
6773
6774
6775
6776
6777
6778
6779
6780
6781
6782
6783
6784
6785
6786
6787
6788
6789
6790
6791
6792
6793
6794
6795
6796
6797
6798
6799
6800
6801
6802
6803
6804
6805
6806
6807
6808
6809
6810
6811
6812
6813
6814
6815
6816
6817
6818
6819
6820
6821
6822
6823
6824
6825
6826
6827
6828
6829
6830
6831
6832
6833
6834
6835
6836
6837
6838
6839
6840
6841
6842
6843
6844
6845
6846
6847
6848
6849
6850
6851
6852
6853
6854
6855
6856
6857
6858
6859
6860
6861
6862
6863
6864
6865
6866
6867
6868
6869
6870
6871
6872
6873
6874
6875
6876
6877
6878
6879
6880
6881
6882
6883
6884
6885
6886
6887
6888
6889
6890
6891
6892
6893
6894
6895
6896
6897
6898
6899
6900
6901
6902
6903
6904
6905
6906
6907
6908
6909
6910
6911
6912
6913
6914
6915
6916
6917
6918
6919
6920
6921
6922
6923
6924
6925
6926
6927
6928
6929
6930
6931
6932
6933
6934
6935
6936
6937
6938
6939
6940
6941
6942
6943
6944
6945
6946
6947
6948
6949
6950
6951
6952
6953
6954
6955
6956
6957
6958
6959
6960
6961
6962
6963
6964
6965
6966
6967
6968
6969
6970
6971
6972
6973
6974
6975
6976
6977
6978
6979
6980
6981
6982
6983
6984
6985
6986
6987
6988
6989
6990
6991
6992
6993
6994
6995
6996
6997
6998
6999
7000
7001
7002
7003
7004
7005
7006
7007
7008
7009
7010
7011
7012
7013
7014
7015
7016
7017
7018
7019
7020
7021
7022
7023
7024
7025
7026
7027
7028
7029
7030
7031
7032
7033
7034
7035
7036
7037
7038
7039
7040
7041
7042
7043
7044
7045
7046
7047
7048
7049
7050
7051
7052
7053
7054
7055
7056
7057
7058
7059
7060
7061
7062
7063
7064
7065
7066
7067
7068
7069
7070
7071
7072
7073
7074
7075
7076
7077
7078
7079
7080
7081
7082
7083
7084
7085
7086
7087
7088
7089
7090
7091
7092
7093
7094
7095
7096
7097
7098
7099
7100
7101
7102
7103
7104
7105
7106
7107
7108
7109
7110
7111
7112
7113
7114
7115
7116
7117
7118
7119
7120
7121
7122
7123
7124
7125
7126
7127
7128
7129
7130
7131
7132
7133
7134
7135
7136
7137
7138
7139
7140
7141
7142
7143
7144
7145
7146
7147
7148
7149
7150
7151
7152
7153
7154
7155
7156
7157
7158
7159
7160
7161
7162
7163
7164
7165
7166
7167
7168
7169
7170
7171
7172
7173
7174
7175
7176
7177
7178
7179
7180
7181
7182
7183
7184
7185
7186
7187
7188
7189
7190
7191
7192
7193
7194
7195
7196
7197
7198
7199
7200
7201
7202
7203
7204
7205
7206
7207
7208
7209
7210
7211
7212
7213
7214
7215
7216
7217
7218
7219
7220
7221
7222
7223
7224

<!DOCTYPE html>
<html lang="en">
<head>
<meta charset="utf-8">
<title>The Red Badge of Courage | Project Gutenberg</title>
<link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover">
<style>

body { margin-left: 10%;
       margin-right: 10%;
       text-align: justify; }

h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight:
normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;}

h1 {font-size: 300%;
    margin-top: 0.6em;
    margin-bottom: 0.6em;
    letter-spacing: 0.12em;
    word-spacing: 0.2em;
    text-indent: 0em;}
h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;}
h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;}
h4 {font-size: 120%;}
h5 {font-size: 110%;}

.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */

div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;}

hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;}

p {text-indent: 1em;
   margin-top: 0.25em;
   margin-bottom: 0.25em; }

p.poem {text-indent: 0%;
        margin-left: 10%;
        font-size: 90%;
        margin-top: 1em;
        margin-bottom: 1em; }

p.noindent {text-indent: 0% }

p.center  {text-align: center;
           text-indent: 0em;
           margin-top: 1em;
           margin-bottom: 1em; }

div.fig { display:block;
          margin:0 auto;
          text-align:center;
          margin-top: 1em;
          margin-bottom: 1em;}

a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none}
a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none}
a:hover {color:red}

</style>

</head>

<body>
<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 73 ***</div>

<div class="fig" style="width:55%;">
<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]">
</div>

<h1>The Red Badge of Courage</h1>

<h2 class="no-break">by Stephen Crane (1871-1900)</h2>

<h3>An Episode of the American Civil War</h3>

<hr>

<h2>Contents</h2>

<table style="">

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER XV.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap17">CHAPTER XVII.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap18">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap19">CHAPTER XIX.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap20">CHAPTER XX.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap21">CHAPTER XXI.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap22">CHAPTER XXII.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap23">CHAPTER XXIII.</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#chap24">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></td>
</tr>

</table>

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap01"></a>Chapter I.</h2>

<p>
The cold passed reluctantly from the earth, and the retiring fogs revealed an
army stretched out on the hills, resting. As the landscape changed from brown
to green, the army awakened, and began to tremble with eagerness at the noise
of rumors. It cast its eyes upon the roads, which were growing from long
troughs of liquid mud to proper thoroughfares. A river, amber-tinted in the
shadow of its banks, purled at the army&rsquo;s feet; and at night, when the
stream had become of a sorrowful blackness, one could see across it the red,
eyelike gleam of hostile camp-fires set in the low brows of distant hills.
</p>

<p>
Once a certain tall soldier developed virtues and went resolutely to wash a
shirt. He came flying back from a brook waving his garment bannerlike. He was
swelled with a tale he had heard from a reliable friend, who had heard it from
a truthful cavalryman, who had heard it from his trustworthy brother, one of
the orderlies at division headquarters. He adopted the important air of a
herald in red and gold.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;We&rsquo;re goin&rsquo; t&rsquo; move t&rsquo;morrah&mdash;sure,&rdquo;
he said pompously to a group in the company street. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re
goin&rsquo; &rsquo;way up the river, cut across, an&rsquo; come around in
behint &rsquo;em.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
To his attentive audience he drew a loud and elaborate plan of a very brilliant
campaign. When he had finished, the blue-clothed men scattered into small
arguing groups between the rows of squat brown huts. A negro teamster who had
been dancing upon a cracker box with the hilarious encouragement of twoscore
soldiers was deserted. He sat mournfully down. Smoke drifted lazily from a
multitude of quaint chimneys.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a lie! that&rsquo;s all it is&mdash;a thunderin&rsquo;
lie!&rdquo; said another private loudly. His smooth face was flushed, and his
hands were thrust sulkily into his trouser&rsquo;s pockets. He took the matter
as an affront to him. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe the derned old army&rsquo;s
ever going to move. We&rsquo;re set. I&rsquo;ve got ready to move eight times
in the last two weeks, and we ain&rsquo;t moved yet.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The tall soldier felt called upon to defend the truth of a rumor he himself had
introduced. He and the loud one came near to fighting over it.
</p>

<p>
A corporal began to swear before the assemblage. He had just put a costly board
floor in his house, he said. During the early spring he had refrained from
adding extensively to the comfort of his environment because he had felt that
the army might start on the march at any moment. Of late, however, he had been
impressed that they were in a sort of eternal camp.
</p>

<p>
Many of the men engaged in a spirited debate. One outlined in a peculiarly
lucid manner all the plans of the commanding general. He was opposed by men who
advocated that there were other plans of campaign. They clamored at each other,
numbers making futile bids for the popular attention. Meanwhile, the soldier
who had fetched the rumor bustled about with much importance. He was
continually assailed by questions.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;What&rsquo;s up, Jim?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Th&rsquo;army&rsquo;s goin&rsquo; t&rsquo; move.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Ah, what yeh talkin&rsquo; about? How yeh know it is?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well, yeh kin b&rsquo;lieve me er not, jest as yeh like. I don&rsquo;t
care a hang.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
There was much food for thought in the manner in which he replied. He came near
to convincing them by disdaining to produce proofs. They grew much excited over
it.
</p>

<p>
There was a youthful private who listened with eager ears to the words of the
tall soldier and to the varied comments of his comrades. After receiving a fill
of discussions concerning marches and attacks, he went to his hut and crawled
through an intricate hole that served it as a door. He wished to be alone with
some new thoughts that had lately come to him.
</p>

<p>
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. They were grouped
about the fireplace. A picture from an illustrated weekly was upon the log
walls, and three rifles were paralleled on pegs. Equipments hung on handy
projections, and some tin dishes lay upon a small pile of firewood. A folded
tent was serving as a roof. The sunlight, without, beating upon it, made it
glow a light yellow shade. A small window shot an oblique square of whiter
light upon the cluttered floor. The smoke from the fire at times neglected the
clay chimney and wreathed into the room, and this flimsy chimney of clay and
sticks made endless threats to set ablaze the whole establishment.
</p>

<p>
The youth was in a little trance of astonishment. So they were at last going to
fight. On the morrow, perhaps, there would be a battle, and he would be in it.
For a time he was obliged to labor to make himself believe. He could not accept
with assurance an omen that he was about to mingle in one of those great
affairs of the earth.
</p>

<p>
He had, of course, dreamed of battles all his life&mdash;of vague and bloody
conflicts that had thrilled him with their sweep and fire. In visions he had
seen himself in many struggles. He had imagined peoples secure in the shadow of
his eagle-eyed prowess. But awake he had regarded battles as crimson blotches
on the pages of the past. He had put them as things of the bygone with his
thought-images of heavy crowns and high castles. There was a portion of the
world&rsquo;s history which he had regarded as the time of wars, but it, he
thought, had been long gone over the horizon and had disappeared forever.
</p>

<p>
From his home his youthful eyes had looked upon the war in his own country with
distrust. It must be some sort of a play affair. He had long despaired of
witnessing a Greeklike struggle. Such would be no more, he had said. Men were
better, or more timid. Secular and religious education had effaced the
throat-grappling instinct, or else firm finance held in check the passions.
</p>

<p>
He had burned several times to enlist. Tales of great movements shook the land.
They might not be distinctly Homeric, but there seemed to be much glory in
them. He had read of marches, sieges, conflicts, and he had longed to see it
all. His busy mind had drawn for him large pictures extravagant in color, lurid
with breathless deeds.
</p>

<p>
But his mother had discouraged him. She had affected to look with some contempt
upon the quality of his war ardor and patriotism. She could calmly seat herself
and with no apparent difficulty give him many hundreds of reasons why he was of
vastly more importance on the farm than on the field of battle. She had had
certain ways of expression that told him that her statements on the subject
came from a deep conviction. Moreover, on her side, was his belief that her
ethical motive in the argument was impregnable.
</p>

<p>
At last, however, he had made firm rebellion against this yellow light thrown
upon the color of his ambitions. The newspapers, the gossip of the village, his
own picturings, had aroused him to an uncheckable degree. They were in truth
fighting finely down there. Almost every day the newspaper printed accounts of
a decisive victory.
</p>

<p>
One night, as he lay in bed, the winds had carried to him the clangoring of the
church bell as some enthusiast jerked the rope frantically to tell the twisted
news of a great battle. This voice of the people rejoicing in the night had
made him shiver in a prolonged ecstasy of excitement. Later, he had gone down
to his mother&rsquo;s room and had spoken thus: &ldquo;Ma, I&rsquo;m going to
enlist.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Henry, don&rsquo;t you be a fool,&rdquo; his mother had replied. She had
then covered her face with the quilt. There was an end to the matter for that
night.
</p>

<p>
Nevertheless, the next morning he had gone to a town that was near his
mother&rsquo;s farm and had enlisted in a company that was forming there. When
he had returned home his mother was milking the brindle cow. Four others stood
waiting. &ldquo;Ma, I&rsquo;ve enlisted,&rdquo; he had said to her diffidently.
There was a short silence. &ldquo;The Lord&rsquo;s will be done, Henry,&rdquo;
she had finally replied, and had then continued to milk the brindle cow.
</p>

<p>
When he had stood in the doorway with his soldier&rsquo;s clothes on his back,
and with the light of excitement and expectancy in his eyes almost defeating
the glow of regret for the home bonds, he had seen two tears leaving their
trails on his mother&rsquo;s scarred cheeks.
</p>

<p>
Still, she had disappointed him by saying nothing whatever about returning with
his shield or on it. He had privately primed himself for a beautiful scene. He
had prepared certain sentences which he thought could be used with touching
effect. But her words destroyed his plans. She had doggedly peeled potatoes and
addressed him as follows: &ldquo;You watch out, Henry, an&rsquo; take good care
of yerself in this here fighting business&mdash;you watch, an&rsquo; take good
care of yerself. Don&rsquo;t go a-thinkin&rsquo; you can lick the hull rebel
army at the start, because yeh can&rsquo;t. Yer jest one little feller amongst
a hull lot of others, and yeh&rsquo;ve got to keep quiet an&rsquo; do what they
tell yeh. I know how you are, Henry.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve knet yeh eight pair of socks, Henry, and I&rsquo;ve put in
all yer best shirts, because I want my boy to be jest as warm and
comf&rsquo;able as anybody in the army. Whenever they get holes in &rsquo;em, I
want yeh to send &rsquo;em right-away back to me, so&rsquo;s I kin dern
&rsquo;em.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;An&rsquo; allus be careful an&rsquo; choose yer comp&rsquo;ny.
There&rsquo;s lots of bad men in the army, Henry. The army makes &rsquo;em
wild, and they like nothing better than the job of leading off a young feller
like you, as ain&rsquo;t never been away from home much and has allus had a
mother, an&rsquo; a-learning &rsquo;em to drink and swear. Keep clear of them
folks, Henry. I don&rsquo;t want yeh to ever do anything, Henry, that yeh would
be &rsquo;shamed to let me know about. Jest think as if I was a-watchin&rsquo;
yeh. If yeh keep that in yer mind allus, I guess yeh&rsquo;ll come out about
right.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Yeh must allus remember yer father, too, child, an&rsquo; remember he
never drunk a drop of licker in his life, and seldom swore a cross oath.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what else to tell yeh, Henry, excepting that yeh must
never do no shirking, child, on my account. If so be a time comes when yeh have
to be kilt or do a mean thing, why, Henry, don&rsquo;t think of anything
&rsquo;cept what&rsquo;s right, because there&rsquo;s many a woman has to bear
up &rsquo;ginst sech things these times, and the Lord&rsquo;ll take keer of us
all.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t forgit about the socks and the shirts, child; and I&rsquo;ve
put a cup of blackberry jam with yer bundle, because I know yeh like it above
all things. Good-by, Henry. Watch out, and be a good boy.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
He had, of course, been impatient under the ordeal of this speech. It had not
been quite what he expected, and he had borne it with an air of irritation. He
departed feeling vague relief.
</p>

<p>
Still, when he had looked back from the gate, he had seen his mother kneeling
among the potato parings. Her brown face, upraised, was stained with tears, and
her spare form was quivering. He bowed his head and went on, feeling suddenly
ashamed of his purposes.
</p>

<p>
From his home he had gone to the seminary to bid adieu to many schoolmates.
They had thronged about him with wonder and admiration. He had felt the gulf
now between them and had swelled with calm pride. He and some of his fellows
who had donned blue were quite overwhelmed with privileges for all of one
afternoon, and it had been a very delicious thing. They had strutted.
</p>

<p>
A certain light-haired girl had made vivacious fun at his martial spirit, but
there was another and darker girl whom he had gazed at steadfastly, and he
thought she grew demure and sad at sight of his blue and brass. As he had
walked down the path between the rows of oaks, he had turned his head and
detected her at a window watching his departure. As he perceived her, she had
immediately begun to stare up through the high tree branches at the sky. He had
seen a good deal of flurry and haste in her movement as she changed her
attitude. He often thought of it.
</p>

<p>
On the way to Washington his spirit had soared. The regiment was fed and
caressed at station after station until the youth had believed that he must be
a hero. There was a lavish expenditure of bread and cold meats, coffee, and
pickles and cheese. As he basked in the smiles of the girls and was patted and
complimented by the old men, he had felt growing within him the strength to do
mighty deeds of arms.
</p>

<p>
After complicated journeyings with many pauses, there had come months of
monotonous life in a camp. He had had the belief that real war was a series of
death struggles with small time in between for sleep and meals; but since his
regiment had come to the field the army had done little but sit still and try
to keep warm.
</p>

<p>
He was brought then gradually back to his old ideas. Greeklike struggles would
be no more. Men were better, or more timid. Secular and religious education had
effaced the throat-grappling instinct, or else firm finance held in check the
passions.
</p>

<p>
He had grown to regard himself merely as a part of a vast blue demonstration.
His province was to look out, as far as he could, for his personal comfort. For
recreation he could twiddle his thumbs and speculate on the thoughts which must
agitate the minds of the generals. Also, he was drilled and drilled and
reviewed, and drilled and drilled and reviewed.
</p>

<p>
The only foes he had seen were some pickets along the river bank. They were a
sun-tanned, philosophical lot, who sometimes shot reflectively at the blue
pickets. When reproached for this afterward, they usually expressed sorrow, and
swore by their gods that the guns had exploded without their permission. The
youth, on guard duty one night, conversed across the stream with one of them.
He was a slightly ragged man, who spat skillfully between his shoes and
possessed a great fund of bland and infantile assurance. The youth liked him
personally.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Yank,&rdquo; the other had informed him, &ldquo;yer a right dum good
feller.&rdquo; This sentiment, floating to him upon the still air, had made him
temporarily regret war.
</p>

<p>
Various veterans had told him tales. Some talked of gray, bewhiskered hordes
who were advancing with relentless curses and chewing tobacco with unspeakable
valor; tremendous bodies of fierce soldiery who were sweeping along like the
Huns. Others spoke of tattered and eternally hungry men who fired despondent
powders. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ll charge through hell&rsquo;s fire an&rsquo;
brimstone t&rsquo; git a holt on a haversack, an&rsquo; sech stomachs
ain&rsquo;t a&rsquo;lastin&rsquo; long,&rdquo; he was told. From the stories,
the youth imagined the red, live bones sticking out through slits in the faded
uniforms.
</p>

<p>
Still, he could not put a whole faith in veteran&rsquo;s tales, for recruits
were their prey. They talked much of smoke, fire, and blood, but he could not
tell how much might be lies. They persistently yelled &ldquo;Fresh fish!&rdquo;
at him, and were in no wise to be trusted.
</p>

<p>
However, he perceived now that it did not greatly matter what kind of soldiers
he was going to fight, so long as they fought, which fact no one disputed.
There was a more serious problem. He lay in his bunk pondering upon it. He
tried to mathematically prove to himself that he would not run from a battle.
</p>

<p>
Previously he had never felt obliged to wrestle too seriously with this
question. In his life he had taken certain things for granted, never
challenging his belief in ultimate success, and bothering little about means
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 nothing of himself.
</p>

<p>
A sufficient time before he would have allowed the problem to kick its heels at
the outer portals of his mind, but now he felt compelled to give serious
attention to it.
</p>

<p>
A little panic-fear grew in his mind. As his imagination went forward to a
fight, he saw hideous possibilities. He contemplated the lurking menaces of the
future, and failed in an effort to see himself standing stoutly in the midst of
them. He recalled his visions of broken-bladed glory, but in the shadow of the
impending tumult he suspected them to be impossible pictures.
</p>

<p>
He sprang from the bunk and began to pace nervously to and fro. &ldquo;Good
Lord, what&rsquo;s th&rsquo; matter with me?&rdquo; he said aloud.
</p>

<p>
He felt that in this crisis his laws of life were useless. Whatever he had
learned of himself was here of no avail. He was an unknown quantity. He saw
that he would again be obliged to experiment as he had in early youth. He must
accumulate information of himself, and meanwhile he resolved to remain close
upon his guard lest those qualities of which he knew nothing should
everlastingly disgrace him. &ldquo;Good Lord!&rdquo; he repeated in dismay.
</p>

<p>
After a time the tall soldier slid dexterously through the hole. The loud
private followed. They were wrangling.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;That&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; said the tall soldier as he entered. He
waved his hand expressively. &ldquo;You can believe me or not, jest as you
like. All you got to do is sit down and wait as quiet as you can. Then pretty
soon you&rsquo;ll find out I was right.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
His comrade grunted stubbornly. For a moment he seemed to be searching for a
formidable reply. Finally he said: &ldquo;Well, you don&rsquo;t know everything
in the world, do you?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t say I knew everything in the world,&rdquo; retorted the
other sharply. He began to stow various articles snugly into his knapsack.
</p>

<p>
The youth, pausing in his nervous walk, looked down at the busy figure.
&ldquo;Going to be a battle, sure, is there, Jim?&rdquo; he asked.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Of course there is,&rdquo; replied the tall soldier. &ldquo;Of course
there is. You jest wait &rsquo;til to-morrow, and you&rsquo;ll see one of the
biggest battles ever was. You jest wait.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Thunder!&rdquo; said the youth.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh, you&rsquo;ll see fighting this time, my boy, what&rsquo;ll be
regular out-and-out fighting,&rdquo; added the tall soldier, with the air of a
man who is about to exhibit a battle for the benefit of his friends.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Huh!&rdquo; said the loud one from a corner.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; remarked the youth, &ldquo;like as not this story&rsquo;ll
turn out jest like them others did.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Not much it won&rsquo;t,&rdquo; replied the tall soldier, exasperated.
&ldquo;Not much it won&rsquo;t. Didn&rsquo;t the cavalry all start this
morning?&rdquo; He glared about him. No one denied his statement. &ldquo;The
cavalry started this morning,&rdquo; he continued. &ldquo;They say there
ain&rsquo;t hardly any cavalry left in camp. They&rsquo;re going to Richmond,
or some place, while we fight all the Johnnies. It&rsquo;s some dodge like
that. The regiment&rsquo;s got orders, too. A feller what seen &rsquo;em go to
headquarters told me a little while ago. And they&rsquo;re raising blazes all
over camp&mdash;anybody can see that.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Shucks!&rdquo; said the loud one.
</p>

<p>
The youth remained silent for a time. At last he spoke to the tall soldier.
&ldquo;Jim!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;What?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;How do you think the reg&rsquo;ment &rsquo;ll do?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh, they&rsquo;ll fight all right, I guess, after they once get into
it,&rdquo; said the other with cold judgment. He made a fine use of the third
person. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s been heaps of fun poked at &rsquo;em because
they&rsquo;re new, of course, and all that; but they&rsquo;ll fight all right,
I guess.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Think any of the boys &rsquo;ll run?&rdquo; persisted the youth.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh, there may be a few of &rsquo;em run, but there&rsquo;s them kind in
every regiment, &rsquo;specially when they first goes under fire,&rdquo; said
the other in a tolerant way. &ldquo;Of course it might happen that the hull
kit-and-boodle might start and run, if some big fighting came first-off, and
then again they might stay and fight like fun. But you can&rsquo;t bet on
nothing. Of course they ain&rsquo;t never been under fire yet, and it
ain&rsquo;t likely they&rsquo;ll lick the hull rebel army all-to-oncet the
first time; but I think they&rsquo;ll fight better than some, if worse than
others. That&rsquo;s the way I figger. They call the reg&rsquo;ment
&lsquo;Fresh fish&rsquo; and everything; but the boys come of good stock, and
most of &rsquo;em &rsquo;ll fight like sin after they oncet git
shootin&rsquo;,&rdquo; he added, with a mighty emphasis on the last four words.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh, you think you know&mdash;&rdquo; began the loud soldier with scorn.
</p>

<p>
The other turned savagely upon him. They had a rapid altercation, in which they
fastened upon each other various strange epithets.
</p>

<p>
The youth at last interrupted them. &ldquo;Did you ever think you might run
yourself, Jim?&rdquo; he asked. On concluding the sentence he laughed as if he
had meant to aim a joke. The loud soldier also giggled.
</p>

<p>
The tall private waved his hand. &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said he profoundly,
&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve thought it might get too hot for Jim Conklin in some of them
scrimmages, and if a whole lot of boys started and run, why, I s&rsquo;pose
I&rsquo;d start and run. And if I once started to run, I&rsquo;d run like the
devil, and no mistake. But if everybody was a-standing and a-fighting, why,
I&rsquo;d stand and fight. Be jiminey, I would. I&rsquo;ll bet on it.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Huh!&rdquo; said the loud one.
</p>

<p>
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 correct confidence. He
now was in a measure reassured.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap02"></a>Chapter II.</h2>

<p>
The next morning the youth discovered that his tall comrade had been the
fast-flying messenger of a mistake. There was much scoffing at the latter by
those who had yesterday been firm adherents of his views, and there was even a
little sneering by men who had never believed the rumor. The tall one fought
with a man from Chatfield Corners and beat him severely.
</p>

<p>
The youth felt, however, that his problem was in no wise lifted from him. There
was, on the contrary, an irritating prolongation. The tale had created in him a
great concern for himself. Now, with the newborn question in his mind, he was
compelled to sink back into his old place as part of a blue demonstration.
</p>

<p>
For days he made ceaseless calculations, but they were all wondrously
unsatisfactory. He found that he could establish nothing. He finally concluded
that the only way to prove himself was to go into the blaze, and then
figuratively to watch his legs to discover their merits and faults. He
reluctantly admitted that he could not sit still and with a mental slate and
pencil derive an answer. To gain it, he must have blaze, blood, and danger,
even as a chemist requires this, that, and the other. So he fretted for an
opportunity.
</p>

<p>
Meanwhile, he continually tried to measure himself by his comrades. The tall
soldier, for one, gave him some assurance. This man&rsquo;s serene unconcern
dealt him a measure of confidence, for he had known him since childhood, and
from his intimate knowledge he did not see how he could be capable of anything
that was beyond him, the youth. Still, he thought that his comrade might be
mistaken about himself. Or, on the other hand, he might be a man heretofore
doomed to peace and obscurity, but, in reality, made to shine in war.
</p>

<p>
The youth would have liked to have discovered another who suspected himself. A
sympathetic comparison of mental notes would have been a joy to him.
</p>

<p>
He occasionally tried to fathom a comrade with seductive sentences. He looked
about to find men in the proper mood. All attempts failed to bring forth any
statement which looked in any way like a confession to those doubts which he
privately acknowledged in himself. He was afraid to make an open declaration of
his concern, because he dreaded to place some unscrupulous confidant upon the
high plane of the unconfessed from which elevation he could be derided.
</p>

<p>
In regard to his companions his mind wavered between two opinions, according to
his mood. Sometimes he inclined to believing them all heroes. In fact, he
usually admired in secret the superior development of the higher qualities in
others. He could conceive of men going very insignificantly about the world
bearing a load of courage unseen, and although he had known many of his
comrades through boyhood, he began to fear that his judgment of them had been
blind. Then, in other moments, he flouted these theories, and assured him that
his fellows were all privately wondering and quaking.
</p>

<p>
His emotions made him feel strange in the presence of men who talked excitedly
of a prospective battle as of a drama they were about to witness, with nothing
but eagerness and curiosity apparent in their faces. It was often that he
suspected them to be liars.
</p>

<p>
He did not pass such thoughts without severe condemnation of himself. He dinned
reproaches at times. He was convicted by himself of many shameful crimes
against the gods of traditions.
</p>

<p>
In his great anxiety his heart was continually clamoring at what he considered
the intolerable slowness of the generals. They seemed content to perch
tranquilly on the river bank, and leave him bowed down by the weight of a great
problem. He wanted it settled forthwith. He could not long bear such a load, he
said. Sometimes his anger at the commanders reached an acute stage, and he
grumbled about the camp like a veteran.
</p>

<p>
One morning, however, he found himself in the ranks of his prepared regiment.
The men were whispering speculations and recounting the old rumors. In the
gloom before the break of the day their uniforms glowed a deep purple hue. From
across the river the red eyes were still peering. In the eastern sky there was
a yellow patch like a rug laid for the feet of the coming sun; and against it,
black and patternlike, loomed the gigantic figure of the colonel on a gigantic
horse.
</p>

<p>
From off in the darkness came the trampling of feet. The youth could
occasionally see dark shadows that moved like monsters. The regiment stood at
rest for what seemed a long time. The youth grew impatient. It was unendurable
the way these affairs were managed. He wondered how long they were to be kept
waiting.
</p>

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

<p>
At last he heard from along the road at the foot of the hill the clatter of a
horse&rsquo;s galloping hoofs. It must be the coming of orders. He bent
forward, scarce breathing. The exciting clickety-click, as it grew louder and
louder, seemed to be beating upon his soul. Presently a horseman with jangling
equipment drew rein before the colonel of the regiment. The two held a short,
sharp-worded conversation. The men in the foremost ranks craned their necks.
</p>

<p>
As the horseman wheeled his animal and galloped away he turned to shout over
his shoulder, &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t forget that box of cigars!&rdquo; The colonel
mumbled in reply. The youth wondered what a box of cigars had to do with war.
</p>

<p>
A moment later the regiment went swinging off into the darkness. It was now
like one of those moving monsters wending with many feet. The air was heavy,
and cold with dew. A mass of wet grass, marched upon, rustled like silk.
</p>

<p>
There was an occasional flash and glimmer of steel from the backs of all these
huge crawling reptiles. From the road came creakings and grumblings as some
surly guns were dragged away.
</p>

<p>
The men stumbled along still muttering speculations. There was a subdued
debate. Once a man fell down, and as he reached for his rifle a comrade,
unseeing, trod upon his hand. He of the injured fingers swore bitterly, and
aloud. A low, tittering laugh went among his fellows.
</p>

<p>
Presently they passed into a roadway and marched forward with easy strides. A
dark regiment moved before them, and from behind also came the tinkle of
equipments on the bodies of marching men.
</p>

<p>
The rushing yellow of the developing day went on behind their backs. When the
sunrays at last struck full and mellowingly upon the earth, the youth saw that
the landscape was streaked with two long, thin, black columns which disappeared
on the brow of a hill in front and rearward vanished in a wood. They were like
two serpents crawling from the cavern of the night.
</p>

<p>
The river was not in view. The tall soldier burst into praises of what he
thought to be his powers of perception.
</p>

<p>
Some of the tall one&rsquo;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&rsquo;s plan was not the true one at
all. They persisted with other theories. There was a vigorous discussion.
</p>

<p>
The youth took no part in them. As he walked along in careless line he was
engaged with his own eternal debate. He could not hinder himself from dwelling
upon it. He was despondent and sullen, and threw shifting glances about him. He
looked ahead, often expecting to hear from the advance the rattle of firing.
</p>

<p>
But the long serpents crawled slowly from hill to hill without bluster of
smoke. A dun-colored cloud of dust floated away to the right. The sky overhead
was of a fairy blue.
</p>

<p>
The youth studied the faces of his companions, ever on the watch to detect
kindred emotions. He suffered disappointment. Some ardor of the air which was
causing the veteran commands to move with glee&mdash;almost with song&mdash;had
infected the new regiment. The men began to speak of victory as of a thing they
knew. Also, the tall soldier received his vindication. They were certainly
going to come around in behind the enemy. They expressed commiseration for that
part of the army which had been left upon the river bank, felicitating
themselves upon being a part of a blasting host.
</p>

<p>
The youth, considering himself as separated from the others, was saddened by
the blithe and merry speeches that went from rank to rank. The company wags all
made their best endeavors. The regiment tramped to the tune of laughter.
</p>

<p>
The blatant soldier often convulsed whole files by his biting sarcasms aimed at
the tall one.
</p>

<p>
And it was not long before all the men seemed to forget their mission. Whole
brigades grinned in unison, and regiments laughed.
</p>

<p>
A rather fat soldier attempted to pilfer a horse from a dooryard. He planned to
load his knapsack upon it. He was escaping with his prize when a young girl
rushed from the house and grabbed the animal&rsquo;s mane. There followed a
wrangle. The young girl, with pink cheeks and shining eyes, stood like a
dauntless statue.
</p>

<p>
The observant regiment, standing at rest in the roadway, whooped at once, and
entered whole-souled upon the side of the maiden. The men became so engrossed
in this affair that they entirely ceased to remember their own large war. They
jeered the piratical private, and called attention to various defects in his
personal appearance; and they were wildly enthusiastic in support of the young
girl.
</p>

<p>
To her, from some distance, came bold advice. &ldquo;Hit him with a
stick.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
There were crows and catcalls showered upon him when he retreated without the
horse. The regiment rejoiced at his downfall. Loud and vociferous
congratulations were showered upon the maiden, who stood panting and regarding
the troops with defiance.
</p>

<p>
At nightfall the column broke into regimental pieces, and the fragments went
into the fields to camp. Tents sprang up like strange plants. Camp fires, like
red, peculiar blossoms, dotted the night.
</p>

<p>
The youth kept from intercourse with his companions as much as circumstances
would allow him. In the evening he wandered a few paces into the gloom. From
this little distance the many fires, with the black forms of men passing to and
fro before the crimson rays, made weird and satanic effects.
</p>

<p>
He lay down in the grass. The blades pressed tenderly against his cheek. The
moon had been lighted and was hung in a treetop. The liquid stillness of the
night enveloping him made him feel vast pity for himself. There was a caress in
the soft winds; and the whole mood of the darkness, he thought, was one of
sympathy for himself in his distress.
</p>

<p>
He wished, without reserve, that he was at home again making the endless rounds
from the house to the barn, from the barn to the fields, from the fields to the
barn, from the barn to the house. He remembered he had so often cursed the
brindle cow and her mates, and had sometimes flung milking stools. But, from
his present point of view, there was a halo of happiness about each of their
heads, and he would have sacrificed all the brass buttons on the continent to
have been enabled to return to them. He told himself that he was not formed for
a soldier. And he mused seriously upon the radical differences between himself
and those men who were dodging implike around the fires.
</p>

<p>
As he mused thus he heard the rustle of grass, and, upon turning his head,
discovered the loud soldier. He called out, &ldquo;Oh, Wilson!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The latter approached and looked down. &ldquo;Why, hello, Henry; is it you?
What are you doing here?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh, thinking,&rdquo; said the youth.
</p>

<p>
The other sat down and carefully lighted his pipe. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re getting
blue my boy. You&rsquo;re looking thundering peek-ed. What the dickens is wrong
with you?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh, nothing,&rdquo; said the youth.
</p>

<p>
The loud soldier launched then into the subject of the anticipated fight.
&ldquo;Oh, we&rsquo;ve got &rsquo;em now!&rdquo; As he spoke his boyish face
was wreathed in a gleeful smile, and his voice had an exultant ring.
&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got &rsquo;em now. At last, by the eternal thunders,
we&rsquo;ll lick &rsquo;em good!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;If the truth was known,&rdquo; he added, more soberly,
&ldquo;<i>they&rsquo;ve</i> licked <i>us</i> about every clip up to now; but
this time&mdash;this time&mdash;we&rsquo;ll lick &rsquo;em good!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;I thought you was objecting to this march a little while ago,&rdquo;
said the youth coldly.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh, it wasn&rsquo;t that,&rdquo; explained the other. &ldquo;I
don&rsquo;t mind marching, if there&rsquo;s going to be fighting at the end of
it. What I hate is this getting moved here and moved there, with no good coming
of it, as far as I can see, excepting sore feet and damned short
rations.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well, Jim Conklin says we&rsquo;ll get plenty of fighting this
time.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;He&rsquo;s right for once, I guess, though I can&rsquo;t see how it
come. This time we&rsquo;re in for a big battle, and we&rsquo;ve got the best
end of it, certain sure. Gee rod! how we will thump &rsquo;em!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
He arose and began to pace to and fro excitedly. The thrill of his enthusiasm
made him walk with an elastic step. He was sprightly, vigorous, fiery in his
belief in success. He looked into the future with clear proud eye, and he swore
with the air of an old soldier.
</p>

<p>
The youth watched him for a moment in silence. When he finally spoke his voice
was as bitter as dregs. &ldquo;Oh, you&rsquo;re going to do great things, I
s&rsquo;pose!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The loud soldier blew a thoughtful cloud of smoke from his pipe. &ldquo;Oh, I
don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; he remarked with dignity; &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know. I
s&rsquo;pose I&rsquo;ll do as well as the rest. I&rsquo;m going to try like
thunder.&rdquo; He evidently complimented himself upon the modesty of this
statement.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;How do you know you won&rsquo;t run when the time comes?&rdquo; asked
the youth.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Run?&rdquo; said the loud one; &ldquo;run?&mdash;of course not!&rdquo;
He laughed.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; continued the youth, &ldquo;lots of good-a-&rsquo;nough men
have thought they was going to do great things before the fight, but when the
time come they skedaddled.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh, that&rsquo;s all true, I s&rsquo;pose,&rdquo; replied the other;
&ldquo;but I&rsquo;m not going to skedaddle. The man that bets on my running
will lose his money, that&rsquo;s all.&rdquo; He nodded confidently.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh, shucks!&rdquo; said the youth. &ldquo;You ain&rsquo;t the bravest
man in the world, are you?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;No, I ain&rsquo;t,&rdquo; exclaimed the loud soldier indignantly;
&ldquo;and I didn&rsquo;t say I was the bravest man in the world, neither. I
said I was going to do my share of fighting&mdash;that&rsquo;s what I said. And
I am, too. Who are you, anyhow? You talk as if you thought you was Napoleon
Bonaparte.&rdquo; He glared at the youth for a moment, and then strode away.
</p>

<p>
The youth called in a savage voice after his comrade: &ldquo;Well, you
needn&rsquo;t git mad about it!&rdquo; But the other continued on his way and
made no reply.
</p>

<p>
He felt alone in space when his injured comrade had disappeared. His failure to
discover any mite of resemblance in their viewpoints made him more miserable
than before. No one seemed to be wrestling with such a terrific personal
problem. He was a mental outcast.
</p>

<p>
He went slowly to his tent and stretched himself on a blanket by the side of
the snoring tall soldier. In the darkness he saw visions of a thousand-tongued
fear that would babble at his back and cause him to flee, while others were
going coolly about their country&rsquo;s business. He admitted that he would
not be able to cope with this monster. He felt that every nerve in his body
would be an ear to hear the voices, while other men would remain stolid and
deaf.
</p>

<p>
And as he sweated with the pain of these thoughts, he could hear low, serene
sentences. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll bid five.&rdquo; &ldquo;Make it six.&rdquo;
&ldquo;Seven.&rdquo; &ldquo;Seven goes.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
He stared at the red, shivering reflection of a fire on the white wall of his
tent until, exhausted and ill from the monotony of his suffering, he fell
asleep.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap03"></a>Chapter III.</h2>

<p>
When another night came, the columns, changed to purple streaks, filed across
two pontoon bridges. A glaring fire wine-tinted the waters of the river. Its
rays, shining upon the moving masses of troops, brought forth here and there
sudden gleams of silver or gold. Upon the other shore a dark and mysterious
range of hills was curved against the sky. The insect voices of the night sang
solemnly.
</p>

<p>
After this crossing the youth assured himself that at any moment they might be
suddenly and fearfully assaulted from the caves of the lowering woods. He kept
his eyes watchfully upon the darkness.
</p>

<p>
But his regiment went unmolested to a camping place, and its soldiers slept the
brave sleep of wearied men. In the morning they were routed out with early
energy, and hustled along a narrow road that led deep into the forest.
</p>

<p>
It was during this rapid march that the regiment lost many of the marks of a
new command.
</p>

<p>
The men had begun to count the miles upon their fingers, and they grew tired.
&ldquo;Sore feet an&rsquo; damned short rations, that&rsquo;s all,&rdquo; said
the loud soldier. There was perspiration and grumblings. After a time they
began to shed their knapsacks. Some tossed them unconcernedly down; others hid
them carefully, asserting their plans to return for them at some convenient
time. Men extricated themselves from thick shirts. Presently few carried
anything but their necessary clothing, blankets, haversacks, canteens, and arms
and ammunition. &ldquo;You can now eat and shoot,&rdquo; said the tall soldier
to the youth. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s all you want to do.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
There was sudden change from the ponderous infantry of theory to the light and
speedy infantry of practice. The regiment, relieved of a burden, received a new
impetus. But there was much loss of valuable knapsacks, and, on the whole, very
good shirts.
</p>

<p>
But the regiment was not yet veteranlike in appearance. Veteran regiments in
the army were likely to be very small aggregations of men. Once, when the
command had first come to the field, some perambulating veterans, noting the
length of their column, had accosted them thus: &ldquo;Hey, fellers, what
brigade is that?&rdquo; And when the men had replied that they formed a
regiment and not a brigade, the older soldiers had laughed, and said, &ldquo;O
Gawd!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
Also, there was too great a similarity in the hats. The hats of a regiment
should properly represent the history of headgear for a period of years. And,
moreover, there were no letters of faded gold speaking from the colors. They
were new and beautiful, and the color bearer habitually oiled the pole.
</p>

<p>
Presently the army again sat down to think. The odor of the peaceful pines was
in the men&rsquo;s nostrils. The sound of monotonous axe blows rang through the
forest, and the insects, nodding upon their perches, crooned like old women.
The youth returned to his theory of a blue demonstration.
</p>

<p>
One gray dawn, however, he was kicked in the leg by the tall soldier, and then,
before he was entirely awake, he found himself running down a wood road in the
midst of men who were panting from the first effects of speed. His canteen
banged rythmically upon his thigh, and his haversack bobbed softly. His musket
bounced a trifle from his shoulder at each stride and made his cap feel
uncertain upon his head.
</p>

<p>
He could hear the men whisper jerky sentences: &ldquo;Say&mdash;what&rsquo;s
all this&mdash;about?&rdquo; &ldquo;What th&rsquo;
thunder&mdash;we&mdash;skedaddlin&rsquo; this way fer?&rdquo;
&ldquo;Billie&mdash;keep off m&rsquo; feet. Yeh run&mdash;like a cow.&rdquo;
And the loud soldier&rsquo;s shrill voice could be heard: &ldquo;What th&rsquo;
devil they in sich a hurry for?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth thought the damp fog of early morning moved from the rush of a great
body of troops. From the distance came a sudden spatter of firing.
</p>

<p>
He was bewildered. As he ran with his comrades he strenuously tried to think,
but all he knew was that if he fell down those coming behind would tread upon
him. All his faculties seemed to be needed to guide him over and past
obstructions. He felt carried along by a mob.
</p>

<p>
The sun spread disclosing rays, and, one by one, regiments burst into view like
armed men just born of the earth. The youth perceived that the time had come.
He was about to be measured. For a moment he felt in the face of his great
trial like a babe, and the flesh over his heart seemed very thin. He seized
time to look about him calculatingly.
</p>

<p>
But he instantly saw that it would be impossible for him to escape from the
regiment. It inclosed him. And there were iron laws of tradition and law on
four sides. He was in a moving box.
</p>

<p>
As he perceived this fact it occurred to him that he had never wished to come
to the war. He had not enlisted of his free will. He had been dragged by the
merciless government. And now they were taking him out to be slaughtered.
</p>

<p>
The regiment slid down a bank and wallowed across a little stream. The mournful
current moved slowly on, and from the water, shaded black, some white bubble
eyes looked at the men.
</p>

<p>
As they climbed the hill on the farther side artillery began to boom. Here the
youth forgot many things as he felt a sudden impulse of curiosity. He scrambled
up the bank with a speed that could not be exceeded by a bloodthirsty man.
</p>

<p>
He expected a battle scene.
</p>

<p>
There were some little fields girted and squeezed by a forest. Spread over the
grass and in among the tree trunks, he could see knots and waving lines of
skirmishers who were running hither and thither and firing at the landscape. A
dark battle line lay upon a sunstruck clearing that gleamed orange color. A
flag fluttered.
</p>

<p>
Other regiments floundered up the bank. The brigade was formed in line of
battle, and after a pause started slowly through the woods in the rear of the
receding skirmishers, who were continually melting into the scene to appear
again farther on. They were always busy as bees, deeply absorbed in their
little combats.
</p>

<p>
The youth tried to observe everything. He did not use care to avoid trees and
branches, and his forgotten feet were constantly knocking against stones or
getting entangled in briers. He was aware that these battalions with their
commotions were woven red and startling into the gentle fabric of softened
greens and browns. It looked to be a wrong place for a battle field.
</p>

<p>
The skirmishers in advance fascinated him. Their shots into thickets and at
distant and prominent trees spoke to him of tragedies&mdash;hidden, mysterious,
solemn.
</p>

<p>
Once the line encountered the body of a dead soldier. He lay upon his back
staring at the sky. He was dressed in an awkward suit of yellowish brown. The
youth could see that the soles of his shoes had been worn to the thinness of
writing paper, and from a great rent in one the dead foot projected piteously.
And it was as if fate had betrayed the soldier. In death it exposed to his
enemies that poverty which in life he had perhaps concealed from his friends.
</p>

<p>
The ranks opened covertly to avoid the corpse. The invulnerable dead man forced
a way for himself. The youth looked keenly at the ashen face. The wind raised
the tawny beard. It moved as if a hand were stroking it. He vaguely desired to
walk around and around the body and stare; the impulse of the living to try to
read in dead eyes the answer to the Question.
</p>

<p>
During the march the ardor which the youth had acquired when out of view of the
field rapidly faded to nothing. His curiosity was quite easily satisfied. If an
intense scene had caught him with its wild swing as he came to the top of the
bank, he might have gone roaring on. This advance upon Nature was too calm. He
had opportunity to reflect. He had time in which to wonder about himself and to
attempt to probe his sensations.
</p>

<p>
Absurd ideas took hold upon him. He thought that he did not relish the
landscape. It threatened him. A coldness swept over his back, and it is true
that his trousers felt to him that they were no fit for his legs at all.
</p>

<p>
A house standing placidly in distant fields had to him an ominous look. The
shadows of the woods were formidable. He was certain that in this vista there
lurked fierce-eyed hosts. The swift thought came to him that the generals did
not know what they were about. It was all a trap. Suddenly those close forests
would bristle with rifle barrels. Ironlike brigades would appear in the rear.
They were all going to be sacrificed. The generals were stupids. The enemy
would presently swallow the whole command. He glared about him, expecting to
see the stealthy approach of his death.
</p>

<p>
He thought that he must break from the ranks and harangue his comrades. They
must not all be killed like pigs; and he was sure it would come to pass unless
they were informed of these dangers. The generals were idiots to send them
marching into a regular pen. There was but one pair of eyes in the corps. He
would step forth and make a speech. Shrill and passionate words came to his
lips.
</p>

<p>
The line, broken into moving fragments by the ground, went calmly on through
fields and woods. The youth looked at the men nearest him, and saw, for the
most part, expressions of deep interest, as if they were investigating
something that had fascinated them. One or two stepped with overvaliant airs as
if they were already plunged into war. Others walked as upon thin ice. The
greater part of the untested men appeared quiet and absorbed. They were going
to look at war, the red animal&mdash;war, the blood-swollen god. And they were
deeply engrossed in this march.
</p>

<p>
As he looked the youth gripped his outcry at his throat. He saw that even if
the men were tottering with fear they would laugh at his warning. They would
jeer him, and, if practicable, pelt him with missiles. Admitting that he might
be wrong, a frenzied declamation of the kind would turn him into a worm.
</p>

<p>
He assumed, then, the demeanor of one who knows that he is doomed alone to
unwritten responsibilities. He lagged, with tragic glances at the sky.
</p>

<p>
He was surprised presently by the young lieutenant of his company, who began
heartily to beat him with a sword, calling out in a loud and insolent voice:
&ldquo;Come, young man, get up into ranks there. No skulking &rsquo;ll do
here.&rdquo; He mended his pace with suitable haste. And he hated the
lieutenant, who had no appreciation of fine minds. He was a mere brute.
</p>

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

<p>
During this halt many men in the regiment began erecting tiny hills in front of
them. They used stones, sticks, earth, and anything they thought might turn a
bullet. Some built comparatively large ones, while others seemed content with
little ones.
</p>

<p>
This procedure caused a discussion among the men. Some wished to fight like
duelists, believing it to be correct to stand erect and be, from their feet to
their foreheads, a mark. They said they scorned the devices of the cautious.
But the others scoffed in reply, and pointed to the veterans on the flanks who
were digging at the ground like terriers. In a short time there was quite a
barricade along the regimental fronts. Directly, however, they were ordered to
withdraw from that place.
</p>

<p>
This astounded the youth. He forgot his stewing over the advance movement.
&ldquo;Well, then, what did they march us out here for?&rdquo; he demanded of
the tall soldier. The latter with calm faith began a heavy explanation,
although he had been compelled to leave a little protection of stones and dirt
to which he had devoted much care and skill.
</p>

<p>
When the regiment was aligned in another position each man&rsquo;s regard for
his safety caused another line of small intrenchments. They ate their noon meal
behind a third one. They were moved from this one also. They were marched from
place to place with apparent aimlessness.
</p>

<p>
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 an ordeal to him. He was in
a fever of impatience. He considered that there was denoted a lack of purpose
on the part of the generals. He began to complain to the tall soldier. &ldquo;I
can&rsquo;t stand this much longer,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t see
what good it does to make us wear out our legs for nothin&rsquo;.&rdquo; He
wished to return to camp, knowing that this affair was a blue demonstration; or
else to go into a battle and discover that he had been a fool in his doubts,
and was, in truth, a man of traditional courage. The strain of present
circumstances he felt to be intolerable.
</p>

<p>
The philosophical tall soldier measured a sandwich of cracker and pork and
swallowed it in a nonchalant manner. &ldquo;Oh, I suppose we must go
reconnoitering around the country jest to keep &rsquo;em from getting too
close, or to develop &rsquo;em, or something.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Huh!&rdquo; said the loud soldier.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; cried the youth, still fidgeting, &ldquo;I&rsquo;d rather
do anything &rsquo;most than go tramping &rsquo;round the country all day doing
no good to nobody and jest tiring ourselves out.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;So would I,&rdquo; said the loud soldier. &ldquo;It ain&rsquo;t right. I
tell you if anybody with any sense was a-runnin&rsquo; this army
it&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh, shut up!&rdquo; roared the tall private. &ldquo;You little fool. You
little damn&rsquo; cuss. You ain&rsquo;t had that there coat and them pants on
for six months, and yet you talk as if&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well, I wanta do some fighting anyway,&rdquo; interrupted the other.
&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t come here to walk. I could &rsquo;ave walked to
home&mdash;&rsquo;round an&rsquo; &rsquo;round the barn, if I jest wanted to
walk.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The tall one, red-faced, swallowed another sandwich as if taking poison in
despair.
</p>

<p>
But gradually, as he chewed, his face became again quiet and contented. He
could not rage in fierce argument in the presence of such sandwiches. During
his meals he always wore an air of blissful contemplation of the food he had
swallowed. His spirit seemed then to be communing with the viands.
</p>

<p>
He accepted new environment and circumstance with great coolness, eating from
his haversack at every opportunity. On the march he went along with the stride
of a hunter, objecting to neither gait nor distance. And he had not raised his
voice when he had been ordered away from three little protective piles of earth
and stone, each of which had been an engineering feat worthy of being made
sacred to the name of his grandmother.
</p>

<p>
In the afternoon, the regiment went out over the same ground it had taken in
the morning. The landscape then ceased to threaten the youth. He had been close
to it and become familiar with it.
</p>

<p>
When, however, they began to pass into a new region, his old fears of stupidity
and incompetence reassailed him, but this time he doggedly let them babble. He
was occupied with his problem, and in his desperation he concluded that the
stupidity did not greatly matter.
</p>

<p>
Once he thought he had concluded that it would be better to get killed directly
and end his troubles. Regarding death thus out of the corner of his eye, he
conceived it to be nothing but rest, and he was filled with a momentary
astonishment that he should have made an extraordinary commotion over the mere
matter of getting killed. He would die; he would go to some place where he
would be understood. It was useless to expect appreciation of his profound and
fine sense from such men as the lieutenant. He must look to the grave for
comprehension.
</p>

<p>
The skirmish fire increased to a long clattering sound. With it was mingled
far-away cheering. A battery spoke.
</p>

<p>
Directly the youth could see the skirmishers running. They were pursued by the
sound of musketry fire. After a time the hot, dangerous flashes of the rifles
were visible. Smoke clouds went slowly and insolently across the fields like
observant phantoms. The din became crescendo, like the roar of an oncoming
train.
</p>

<p>
A brigade ahead of them and on the right went into action with a rending roar.
It was as if it had exploded. And thereafter it lay stretched in the distance
behind a long gray wall, that one was obliged to look twice at to make sure
that it was smoke.
</p>

<p>
The youth, forgetting his neat plan of getting killed, gazed spell bound. His
eyes grew wide and busy with the action of the scene. His mouth was a little
ways open.
</p>

<p>
Of a sudden he felt a heavy and sad hand laid upon his shoulder. Awakening from
his trance of observation he turned and beheld the loud soldier.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;It&rsquo;s my first and last battle, old boy,&rdquo; said the latter,
with intense gloom. He was quite pale and his girlish lip was trembling.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Eh?&rdquo; murmured the youth in great astonishment.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;It&rsquo;s my first and last battle, old boy,&rdquo; continued the loud
soldier. &ldquo;Something tells me&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;What?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;I&rsquo;m a gone coon this first time and&mdash;and I w-want you to take
these here things&mdash;to&mdash;my&mdash;folks.&rdquo; He ended in a quavering
sob of pity for himself. He handed the youth a little packet done up in a
yellow envelope.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Why, what the devil&mdash;&rdquo; began the youth again.
</p>

<p>
But the other gave him a glance as from the depths of a tomb, and raised his
limp hand in a prophetic manner and turned away.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap04"></a>Chapter IV.</h2>

<p>
The brigade was halted in the fringe of a grove. The men crouched among the
trees and pointed their restless guns out at the fields. They tried to look
beyond the smoke.
</p>

<p>
Out of this haze they could see running men. Some shouted information and
gestured as they hurried.
</p>

<p>
The men of the new regiment watched and listened eagerly, while their tongues
ran on in gossip of the battle. They mouthed rumors that had flown like birds
out of the unknown.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;They say Perry has been driven in with big loss.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Yes, Carrott went t&rsquo; th&rsquo; hospital. He said he was sick. That
smart lieutenant is commanding &lsquo;G&rsquo; Company. Th&rsquo; boys say they
won&rsquo;t be under Carrott no more if they all have t&rsquo; desert. They
allus knew he was a&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Hannises&rsquo; batt&rsquo;ry is took.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;It ain&rsquo;t either. I saw Hannises&rsquo; batt&rsquo;ry off on
th&rsquo; left not more&rsquo;n fifteen minutes ago.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Th&rsquo; general, he ses he is goin&rsquo; t&rsquo; take th&rsquo; hull
command of th&rsquo; 304th when we go inteh action, an&rsquo; then he ses
we&rsquo;ll do sech fightin&rsquo; as never another one reg&rsquo;ment
done.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;They say we&rsquo;re catchin&rsquo; it over on th&rsquo; left. They say
th&rsquo; enemy driv&rsquo; our line inteh a devil of a swamp an&rsquo; took
Hannises&rsquo; batt&rsquo;ry.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;No sech thing. Hannises&rsquo; batt&rsquo;ry was &rsquo;long here
&rsquo;bout a minute ago.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;That young Hasbrouck, he makes a good off&rsquo;cer. He ain&rsquo;t
afraid &rsquo;a nothin&rsquo;.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;I met one of th&rsquo; 148th Maine boys an&rsquo; he ses his brigade fit
th&rsquo; hull rebel army fer four hours over on th&rsquo; turnpike road
an&rsquo; killed about five thousand of &rsquo;em. He ses one more sech fight
as that an&rsquo; th&rsquo; war &rsquo;ll be over.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Bill wasn&rsquo;t scared either. No, sir! It wasn&rsquo;t that. Bill
ain&rsquo;t a-gittin&rsquo; scared easy. He was jest mad, that&rsquo;s what he
was. When that feller trod on his hand, he up an&rsquo; sed that he was
willin&rsquo; t&rsquo; give his hand t&rsquo; his country, but he be dumbed if
he was goin&rsquo; t&rsquo; have every dumb bushwhacker in th&rsquo; kentry
walkin&rsquo; &rsquo;round on it. So he went t&rsquo; th&rsquo; hospital
disregardless of th&rsquo; fight. Three fingers was crunched. Th&rsquo; dern
doctor wanted t&rsquo; amputate &rsquo;m, an&rsquo; Bill, he raised a heluva
row, I hear. He&rsquo;s a funny feller.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The din in front swelled to a tremendous chorus. The youth and his fellows were
frozen to silence. They could see a flag that tossed in the smoke angrily. Near
it were the blurred and agitated forms of troops. There came a turbulent stream
of men across the fields. A battery changing position at a frantic gallop
scattered the stragglers right and left.
</p>

<p>
A shell screaming like a storm banshee went over the huddled heads of the
reserves. It landed in the grove, and exploding redly flung the brown earth.
There was a little shower of pine needles.
</p>

<p>
Bullets began to whistle among the branches and nip at the trees. Twigs and
leaves came sailing down. It was as if a thousand axes, wee and invisible, were
being wielded. Many of the men were constantly dodging and ducking their heads.
</p>

<p>
The lieutenant of the youth&rsquo;s company was shot in the hand. He began to
swear so wondrously that a nervous laugh went along the regimental line. The
officer&rsquo;s profanity sounded conventional. It relieved the tightened
senses of the new men. It was as if he had hit his fingers with a tack hammer
at home.
</p>

<p>
He held the wounded member carefully away from his side so that the blood would
not drip upon his trousers.
</p>

<p>
The captain of the company, tucking his sword under his arm, produced a
handkerchief and began to bind with it the lieutenant&rsquo;s wound. And they
disputed as to how the binding should be done.
</p>

<p>
The battle flag in the distance jerked about madly. It seemed to be struggling
to free itself from an agony. The billowing smoke was filled with horizontal
flashes.
</p>

<p>
Men rushing swiftly emerged from it. They grew in numbers until it was seen
that the whole command was fleeing. The flag suddenly sank down as if dying.
Its motion as it fell was a gesture of despair.
</p>

<p>
Wild yells came from behind the walls of smoke. A sketch in gray and red
dissolved into a moblike body of men who galloped like wild horses. The veteran
regiments on the right and left of the 304th immediately began to jeer. With
the passionate song of the bullets and the banshee shrieks of shells were
mingled loud catcalls and bits of facetious advice concerning places of safety.
</p>

<p>
But the new regiment was breathless with horror. &ldquo;Gawd! Saunders&rsquo;s
got crushed!&rdquo; whispered the man at the youth&rsquo;s elbow. They shrank
back and crouched as if compelled to await a flood.
</p>

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

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

<p>
A mounted officer displayed the furious anger of a spoiled child. He raged with
his head, his arms, and his legs.
</p>

<p>
Another, the commander of the brigade, was galloping about bawling. His hat was
gone and his clothes were awry. He resembled a man who has come from bed to go
to a fire. The hoofs of his horse often threatened the heads of the running
men, but they scampered with singular fortune. In this rush they were
apparently all deaf and blind. They heeded not the largest and longest of the
oaths that were thrown at them from all directions.
</p>

<p>
Frequently over this tumult could be heard the grim jokes of the critical
veterans; but the retreating men apparently were not even conscious of the
presence of an audience.
</p>

<p>
The battle reflection that shone for an instant in the faces on the mad current
made the youth feel that forceful hands from heaven would not have been able to
have held him in place if he could have got intelligent control of his legs.
</p>

<p>
There was an appalling imprint upon these faces. The struggle in the smoke had
pictured an exaggeration of itself on the bleached cheeks and in the eyes wild
with one desire.
</p>

<p>
The sight of this stampede exerted a floodlike force that seemed able to drag
sticks and stones and men from the ground. They of the reserves had to hold on.
They grew pale and firm, and red and quaking.
</p>

<p>
The youth achieved one little thought in the midst of this chaos. The composite
monster which had caused the other troops to flee had not then appeared. He
resolved to get a view of it, and then, he thought he might very likely run
better than the best of them.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap05"></a>Chapter V.</h2>

<p>
There were moments of waiting. The youth thought of the village street at home
before the arrival of the circus parade on a day in the spring. He remembered
how he had stood, a small, thrillful boy, prepared to follow the dingy lady
upon the white horse, or the band in its faded chariot. He saw the yellow road,
the lines of expectant people, and the sober houses. He particularly remembered
an old fellow who used to sit upon a cracker box in front of the store and
feign to despise such exhibitions. A thousand details of color and form surged
in his mind. The old fellow upon the cracker box appeared in middle prominence.
</p>

<p>
Some one cried, &ldquo;Here they come!&rdquo;
</p>

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

<p>
The tall soldier, having prepared his rifle, produced a red handkerchief of
some kind. He was engaged in knotting it about his throat with exquisite
attention to its position, when the cry was repeated up and down the line in a
muffled roar of sound.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Here they come! Here they come!&rdquo; Gun locks clicked.
</p>

<p>
Across the smoke-infested fields came a brown swarm of running men who were
giving shrill yells. They came on, stooping and swinging their rifles at all
angles. A flag, tilted forward, sped near the front.
</p>

<p>
As he caught sight of them the youth was momentarily startled by a thought that
perhaps his gun was not loaded. He stood trying to rally his faltering
intellect so that he might recollect the moment when he had loaded, but he
could not.
</p>

<p>
A hatless general pulled his dripping horse to a stand near the colonel of the
304th. He shook his fist in the other&rsquo;s face. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got to
hold &rsquo;em back!&rdquo; he shouted, savagely; &ldquo;you&rsquo;ve got to
hold &rsquo;em back!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
In his agitation the colonel began to stammer. &ldquo;A-all r-right, General,
all right, by Gawd! We-we&rsquo;ll do our&mdash;we-we&rsquo;ll d-d-do-do our
best, General.&rdquo; The general made a passionate gesture and galloped away.
The colonel, perchance to relieve his feelings, began to scold like a wet
parrot. The youth, turning swiftly to make sure that the rear was unmolested,
saw the commander regarding his men in a highly resentful manner, as if he
regretted above everything his association with them.
</p>

<p>
The man at the youth&rsquo;s elbow was mumbling, as if to himself: &ldquo;Oh,
we&rsquo;re in for it now! oh, we&rsquo;re in for it now!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The captain of the company had been pacing excitedly to and fro in the rear. He
coaxed in schoolmistress fashion, as to a congregation of boys with primers.
His talk was an endless repetition. &ldquo;Reserve your fire,
boys&mdash;don&rsquo;t shoot till I tell you&mdash;save your fire&mdash;wait
till they get close up&mdash;don&rsquo;t be damned fools&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
Perspiration streamed down the youth&rsquo;s face, which was soiled like that
of a weeping urchin. He frequently, with a nervous movement, wiped his eyes
with his coat sleeve. His mouth was still a little ways open.
</p>

<p>
He got the one glance at the foe-swarming field in front of him, and instantly
ceased to debate the question of his piece being loaded. Before he was ready to
begin&mdash;before he had announced to himself that he was about to
fight&mdash;he threw the obedient well-balanced rifle into position and fired a
first wild shot. Directly he was working at his weapon like an automatic
affair.
</p>

<p>
He suddenly lost concern for himself, and forgot to look at a menacing fate. He
became not a man but a member. He felt that something of which he was a
part&mdash;a regiment, an army, a cause, or a country&mdash;was in crisis. He
was welded into a common personality which was dominated by a single desire.
For some moments he could not flee no more than a little finger can commit a
revolution from a hand.
</p>

<p>
If he had thought the regiment was about to be annihilated perhaps he could
have amputated himself from it. But its noise gave him assurance. The regiment
was like a firework that, once ignited, proceeds superior to circumstances
until its blazing vitality fades. It wheezed and banged with a mighty power. He
pictured the ground before it as strewn with the discomfited.
</p>

<p>
There was a consciousness always of the presence of his comrades about him. He
felt the subtle battle brotherhood more potent even than the cause for which
they were fighting. It was a mysterious fraternity born of the smoke and danger
of death.
</p>

<p>
He was at a task. He was like a carpenter who has made many boxes, making still
another box, only there was furious haste in his movements. He, in his
thoughts, was careering off in other places, even as the carpenter who as he
works whistles and thinks of his friend or his enemy, his home or a saloon. And
these jolted dreams were never perfect to him afterward, but remained a mass of
blurred shapes.
</p>

<p>
Presently he began to feel the effects of the war atmosphere&mdash;a blistering
sweat, a sensation that his eyeballs were about to crack like hot stones. A
burning roar filled his ears.
</p>

<p>
Following this came a red rage. He developed the acute exasperation of a
pestered animal, a well-meaning cow worried by dogs. He had a mad feeling
against his rifle, which could only be used against one life at a time. He
wished to rush forward and strangle with his fingers. He craved a power that
would enable him to make a world-sweeping gesture and brush all back. His
impotency appeared to him, and made his rage into that of a driven beast.
</p>

<p>
Buried in the smoke of many rifles his anger was directed not so much against
the men whom he knew were rushing toward him as against the swirling battle
phantoms which were choking him, stuffing their smoke robes down his parched
throat. He fought frantically for respite for his senses, for air, as a babe
being smothered attacks the deadly blankets.
</p>

<p>
There was a blare of heated rage mingled with a certain expression of
intentness on all faces. Many of the men were making low-toned noises with
their mouths, and these subdued cheers, snarls, imprecations, prayers, made a
wild, barbaric song that went as an undercurrent of sound, strange and
chantlike with the resounding chords of the war march. The man at the
youth&rsquo;s elbow was babbling. In it there was something soft and tender
like the monologue of a babe. The tall soldier was swearing in a loud voice.
From his lips came a black procession of curious oaths. Of a sudden another
broke out in a querulous way like a man who has mislaid his hat. &ldquo;Well,
why don&rsquo;t they support us? Why don&rsquo;t they send supports? Do they
think&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth in his battle sleep heard this as one who dozes hears.
</p>

<p>
There was a singular absence of heroic poses. The men bending and surging in
their haste and rage were in every impossible attitude. The steel ramrods
clanked and clanged with incessant din as the men pounded them furiously into
the hot rifle barrels. The flaps of the cartridge boxes were all unfastened,
and bobbed idiotically with each movement. The rifles, once loaded, were jerked
to the shoulder and fired without apparent aim into the smoke or at one of the
blurred and shifting forms which upon the field before the regiment had been
growing larger and larger like puppets under a magician&rsquo;s hand.
</p>

<p>
The officers, at their intervals, rearward, neglected to stand in picturesque
attitudes. They were bobbing to and fro roaring directions and encouragements.
The dimensions of their howls were extraordinary. They expended their lungs
with prodigal wills. And often they nearly stood upon their heads in their
anxiety to observe the enemy on the other side of the tumbling smoke.
</p>

<p>
The lieutenant of the youth&rsquo;s company had encountered a soldier who had
fled screaming at the first volley of his comrades. Behind the lines these two
were acting a little isolated scene. The man was blubbering and staring with
sheeplike eyes at the lieutenant, who had seized him by the collar and was
pommeling him. He drove him back into the ranks with many blows. The soldier
went mechanically, dully, with his animal-like eyes upon the officer. Perhaps
there was to him a divinity expressed in the voice of the other&mdash;stern,
hard, with no reflection of fear in it. He tried to reload his gun, but his
shaking hands prevented. The lieutenant was obliged to assist him.
</p>

<p>
The men dropped here and there like bundles. The captain of the youth&rsquo;s
company had been killed in an early part of the action. His body lay stretched
out in the position of a tired man resting, but upon his face there was an
astonished and sorrowful look, as if he thought some friend had done him an ill
turn. The babbling man was grazed by a shot that made the blood stream widely
down his face. He clapped both hands to his head. &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; he said,
and ran. Another grunted suddenly as if he had been struck by a club in the
stomach. He sat down and gazed ruefully. In his eyes there was mute, indefinite
reproach. Farther up the line a man, standing behind a tree, had had his knee
joint splintered by a ball. Immediately he had dropped his rifle and gripped
the tree with both arms. And there he remained, clinging desperately and crying
for assistance that he might withdraw his hold upon the tree.
</p>

<p>
At last an exultant yell went along the quivering line. The firing dwindled
from an uproar to a last vindictive popping. As the smoke slowly eddied away,
the youth saw that the charge had been repulsed. The enemy were scattered into
reluctant groups. He saw a man climb to the top of the fence, straddle the
rail, and fire a parting shot. The waves had receded, leaving bits of dark
<i>débris</i> upon the ground.
</p>

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

<p>
After the fever had left his veins, the youth thought that at last he was going
to suffocate. He became aware of the foul atmosphere in which he had been
struggling. He was grimy and dripping like a laborer in a foundry. He grasped
his canteen and took a long swallow of the warmed water.
</p>

<p>
A sentence with variations went up and down the line. &ldquo;Well, we&rsquo;ve
helt &rsquo;em back. We&rsquo;ve helt &rsquo;em back; derned if we
haven&rsquo;t.&rdquo; The men said it blissfully, leering at each other with
dirty smiles.
</p>

<p>
The youth turned to look behind him and off to the right and off to the left.
He experienced the joy of a man who at last finds leisure in which to look
about him.
</p>

<p>
Under foot there were a few ghastly forms motionless. They lay twisted in
fantastic contortions. Arms were bent and heads were turned in incredible ways.
It seemed that the dead men must have fallen from some great height to get into
such positions. They looked to be dumped out upon the ground from the sky.
</p>

<p>
From a position in the rear of the grove a battery was throwing shells over it.
The flash of the guns startled the youth at first. He thought they were aimed
directly at him. Through the trees he watched the black figures of the gunners
as they worked swiftly and intently. Their labor seemed a complicated thing. He
wondered how they could remember its formula in the midst of confusion.
</p>

<p>
The guns squatted in a row like savage chiefs. They argued with abrupt
violence. It was a grim pow-wow. Their busy servants ran hither and thither.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
To the right and to the left were the dark lines of other troops. Far in front
he thought he could see lighter masses protruding in points from the forest.
They were suggestive of unnumbered thousands.
</p>

<p>
Once he saw a tiny battery go dashing along the line of the horizon. The tiny
riders were beating the tiny horses.
</p>

<p>
From a sloping hill came the sound of cheerings and clashes. Smoke welled
slowly through the leaves.
</p>

<p>
Batteries were speaking with thunderous oratorical effort. Here and there were
flags, the red in the stripes dominating. They splashed bits of warm color upon
the dark lines of troops.
</p>

<p>
The youth felt the old thrill at the sight of the emblems. They were like
beautiful birds strangely undaunted in a storm.
</p>

<p>
As he listened to the din from the hillside, to a deep pulsating thunder that
came from afar to the left, and to the lesser clamors which came from many
directions, it occurred to him that they were fighting, too, over there, and
over there, and over there. Heretofore he had supposed that all the battle was
directly under his nose.
</p>

<p>
As he gazed around him the youth felt a flash of astonishment at the blue, pure
sky and the sun gleamings on the trees and fields. It was surprising that
Nature had gone tranquilly on with her golden process in the midst of so much
devilment.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap06"></a>Chapter VI.</h2>

<p>
The youth awakened slowly. He came gradually back to a position from which he
could regard himself. For moments he had been scrutinizing his person in a
dazed way as if he had never before seen himself. Then he picked up his cap
from the ground. He wriggled in his jacket to make a more comfortable fit, and
kneeling relaced his shoe. He thoughtfully mopped his reeking features.
</p>

<p>
So it was all over at last! The supreme trial had been passed. The red,
formidable difficulties of war had been vanquished.
</p>

<p>
He went into an ecstasy of self-satisfaction. He had the most delightful
sensations of his life. Standing as if apart from himself, he viewed that last
scene. He perceived that the man who had fought thus was magnificent.
</p>

<p>
He felt that he was a fine fellow. He saw himself even with those ideals which
he had considered as far beyond him. He smiled in deep gratification.
</p>

<p>
Upon his fellows he beamed tenderness and good will. &ldquo;Gee! ain&rsquo;t it
hot, hey?&rdquo; he said affably to a man who was polishing his streaming face
with his coat sleeves.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;You bet!&rdquo; said the other, grinning sociably. &ldquo;I never seen
sech dumb hotness.&rdquo; He sprawled out luxuriously on the ground.
&ldquo;Gee, yes! An&rsquo; I hope we don&rsquo;t have no more fightin&rsquo;
till a week from Monday.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
There were some handshakings and deep speeches with men whose features were
familiar, but with whom the youth now felt the bonds of tied hearts. He helped
a cursing comrade to bind up a wound of the shin.
</p>

<p>
But, of a sudden, cries of amazement broke out along the ranks of the new
regiment. &ldquo;Here they come ag&rsquo;in! Here they come ag&rsquo;in!&rdquo;
The man who had sprawled upon the ground started up and said,
&ldquo;Gosh!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth turned quick eyes upon the field. He discerned forms begin to swell
in masses out of a distant wood. He again saw the tilted flag speeding forward.
</p>

<p>
The shells, which had ceased to trouble the regiment for a time, came swirling
again, and exploded in the grass or among the leaves of the trees. They looked
to be strange war flowers bursting into fierce bloom.
</p>

<p>
The men groaned. The luster faded from their eyes. Their smudged countenances
now expressed a profound dejection. They moved their stiffened bodies slowly,
and watched in sullen mood the frantic approach of the enemy. The slaves
toiling in the temple of this god began to feel rebellion at his harsh tasks.
</p>

<p>
They fretted and complained each to each. &ldquo;Oh, say, this is too much of a
good thing! Why can&rsquo;t somebody send us supports?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;We ain&rsquo;t never goin&rsquo; to stand this second banging. I
didn&rsquo;t come here to fight the hull damn&rsquo; rebel army.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
There was one who raised a doleful cry. &ldquo;I wish Bill Smithers had trod on
my hand, insteader me treddin&rsquo; on his&rsquo;n.&rdquo; The sore joints of
the regiment creaked as it painfully floundered into position to repulse.
</p>

<p>
The youth stared. Surely, he thought, this impossible thing was not about to
happen. He waited as if he expected the enemy to suddenly stop, apologize, and
retire bowing. It was all a mistake.
</p>

<p>
But the firing began somewhere on the regimental line and ripped along in both
directions. The level sheets of flame developed great clouds of smoke that
tumbled and tossed in the mild wind near the ground for a moment, and then
rolled through the ranks as through a gate. The clouds were tinged an earthlike
yellow in the sunrays and in the shadow were a sorry blue. The flag was
sometimes eaten and lost in this mass of vapor, but more often it projected,
sun-touched, resplendent.
</p>

<p>
Into the youth&rsquo;s eyes there came a look that one can see in the orbs of a
jaded horse. His neck was quivering with nervous weakness and the muscles of
his arms felt numb and bloodless. His hands, too, seemed large and awkward as
if he was wearing invisible mittens. And there was a great uncertainty about
his knee joints.
</p>

<p>
The words that comrades had uttered previous to the firing began to recur to
him. &ldquo;Oh, say, this is too much of a good thing! What do they take us
for&mdash;why don&rsquo;t they send supports? I didn&rsquo;t come here to fight
the hull damned rebel army.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
He began to exaggerate the endurance, the skill, and the valor of those who
were coming. Himself reeling from exhaustion, he was astonished beyond measure
at such persistency. They must be machines of steel. It was very gloomy
struggling against such affairs, wound up perhaps to fight until sundown.
</p>

<p>
He slowly lifted his rifle and catching a glimpse of the thickspread field he
blazed at a cantering cluster. He stopped then and began to peer as best as he
could through the smoke. He caught changing views of the ground covered with
men who were all running like pursued imps, and yelling.
</p>

<p>
To the youth it was an onslaught of redoubtable dragons. He became like the man
who lost his legs at the approach of the red and green monster. He waited in a
sort of a horrified, listening attitude. He seemed to shut his eyes and wait to
be gobbled.
</p>

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

<p>
Others began to scamper away through the smoke. The youth turned his head,
shaken from his trance by this movement as if the regiment was leaving him
behind. He saw the few fleeting forms.
</p>

<p>
He yelled then with fright and swung about. For a moment, in the great clamor,
he was like a proverbial chicken. He lost the direction of safety. Destruction
threatened him from all points.
</p>

<p>
Directly he began to speed toward the rear in great leaps. His rifle and cap
were gone. His unbuttoned coat bulged in the wind. The flap of his cartridge
box bobbed wildly, and his canteen, by its slender cord, swung out behind. On
his face was all the horror of those things which he imagined.
</p>

<p>
The lieutenant sprang forward bawling. The youth saw his features wrathfully
red, and saw him make a dab with his sword. His one thought of the incident was
that the lieutenant was a peculiar creature to feel interested in such matters
upon this occasion.
</p>

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

<p>
Since he had turned his back upon the fight his fears had been wondrously
magnified. Death about to thrust him between the shoulder blades was far more
dreadful than death about to smite him between the eyes. When he thought of it
later, he conceived the impression that it is better to view the appalling than
to be merely within hearing. The noises of the battle were like stones; he
believed himself liable to be crushed.
</p>

<p>
As he ran on he mingled with others. He dimly saw men on his right and on his
left, and he heard footsteps behind him. He thought that all the regiment was
fleeing, pursued by those ominous crashes.
</p>

<p>
In his flight the sound of these following footsteps gave him his one meager
relief. He felt vaguely that death must make a first choice of the men who were
nearest; the initial morsels for the dragons would be then those who were
following him. So he displayed the zeal of an insane sprinter in his purpose to
keep them in the rear. There was a race.
</p>

<p>
As he, leading, went across a little field, he found himself in a region of
shells. They hurtled over his head with long wild screams. As he listened he
imagined them to have rows of cruel teeth that grinned at him. Once one lit
before him and the livid lightning of the explosion effectually barred the way
in his chosen direction. He groveled on the ground and then springing up went
careering off through some bushes.
</p>

<p>
He experienced a thrill of amazement when he came within view of a battery in
action. The men there seemed to be in conventional moods, altogether unaware of
the impending annihilation. The battery was disputing with a distant antagonist
and the gunners were wrapped in admiration of their shooting. They were
continually bending in coaxing postures over the guns. They seemed to be
patting them on the back and encouraging them with words. The guns, stolid and
undaunted, spoke with dogged valor.
</p>

<p>
The precise gunners were coolly enthusiastic. They lifted their eyes every
chance to the smoke-wreathed hillock from whence the hostile battery addressed
them. The youth pitied them as he ran. Methodical idiots! Machine-like fools!
The refined joy of planting shells in the midst of the other battery&rsquo;s
formation would appear a little thing when the infantry came swooping out of
the woods.
</p>

<p>
The face of a youthful rider, who was jerking his frantic horse with an abandon
of temper he might display in a placid barnyard, was impressed deeply upon his
mind. He knew that he looked upon a man who would presently be dead.
</p>

<p>
Too, he felt a pity for the guns, standing, six good comrades, in a bold row.
</p>

<p>
He saw a brigade going to the relief of its pestered fellows. He scrambled upon
a wee hill and watched it sweeping finely, keeping formation in difficult
places. The blue of the line was crusted with steel color, and the brilliant
flags projected. Officers were shouting.
</p>

<p>
This sight also filled him with wonder. The brigade was hurrying briskly to be
gulped into the infernal mouths of the war god. What manner of men were they,
anyhow? Ah, it was some wondrous breed! Or else they didn&rsquo;t
comprehend&mdash;the fools.
</p>

<p>
A furious order caused commotion in the artillery. An officer on a bounding
horse made maniacal motions with his arms. The teams went swinging up from the
rear, the guns were whirled about, and the battery scampered away. The cannon
with their noses poked slantingly at the ground grunted and grumbled like stout
men, brave but with objections to hurry.
</p>

<p>
The youth went on, moderating his pace since he had left the place of noises.
</p>

<p>
Later he came upon a general of division seated upon a horse that pricked its
ears in an interested way at the battle. There was a great gleaming of yellow
and patent leather about the saddle and bridle. The quiet man astride looked
mouse-colored upon such a splendid charger.
</p>

<p>
A jingling staff was galloping hither and thither. Sometimes the general was
surrounded by horsemen and at other times he was quite alone. He looked to be
much harassed. He had the appearance of a business man whose market is swinging
up and down.
</p>

<p>
The youth went slinking around this spot. He went as near as he dared trying to
overhear words. Perhaps the general, unable to comprehend chaos, might call
upon him for information. And he could tell him. He knew all concerning it. Of
a surety the force was in a fix, and any fool could see that if they did not
retreat while they had opportunity&mdash;why&mdash;
</p>

<p>
He felt that he would like to thrash the general, or at least approach and tell
him in plain words exactly what he thought him to be. It was criminal to stay
calmly in one spot and make no effort to stay destruction. He loitered in a
fever of eagerness for the division commander to apply to him.
</p>

<p>
As he warily moved about, he heard the general call out irritably:
&ldquo;Tompkins, go over an&rsquo; see Taylor, an&rsquo; tell him not t&rsquo;
be in such an all-fired hurry; tell him t&rsquo; halt his brigade in th&rsquo;
edge of th&rsquo; woods; tell him t&rsquo; detach a reg&rsquo;ment&mdash;say I
think th&rsquo; center &rsquo;ll break if we don&rsquo;t help it out some; tell
him t&rsquo; hurry up.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
A slim youth on a fine chestnut horse caught these swift words from the mouth
of his superior. He made his horse bound into a gallop almost from a walk in
his haste to go upon his mission. There was a cloud of dust.
</p>

<p>
A moment later the youth saw the general bounce excitedly in his saddle.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Yes, by heavens, they have!&rdquo; The officer leaned forward. His face
was aflame with excitement. &ldquo;Yes, by heavens, they&rsquo;ve held
&rsquo;im! They&rsquo;ve held &rsquo;im!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
He began to blithely roar at his staff: &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll wallop &rsquo;im
now. We&rsquo;ll wallop &rsquo;im now. We&rsquo;ve got &rsquo;em sure.&rdquo;
He turned suddenly upon an aide:
&ldquo;Here&mdash;you&mdash;Jones&mdash;quick&mdash;ride after
Tompkins&mdash;see Taylor&mdash;tell him t&rsquo; go
in&mdash;everlastingly&mdash;like blazes&mdash;anything.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
As another officer sped his horse after the first messenger, the general beamed
upon the earth like a sun. In his eyes was a desire to chant a paean. He kept
repeating, &ldquo;They&rsquo;ve held &rsquo;em, by heavens!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
His excitement made his horse plunge, and he merrily kicked and swore at it. He
held a little carnival of joy on horseback.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap07"></a>Chapter VII.</h2>

<p>
The youth cringed as if discovered in a crime. By heavens, they had won after
all! The imbecile line had remained and become victors. He could hear cheering.
</p>

<p>
He lifted himself upon his toes and looked in the direction of the fight. A
yellow fog lay wallowing on the treetops. From beneath it came the clatter of
musketry. Hoarse cries told of an advance.
</p>

<p>
He turned away amazed and angry. He felt that he had been wronged.
</p>

<p>
He had fled, he told himself, because annihilation approached. He had done a
good part in saving himself, who was a little piece of the army. He had
considered the time, he said, to be one in which it was the duty of every
little piece to rescue itself if possible. Later the officers could fit the
little pieces together again, and make a battle front. If none of the little
pieces were wise enough to save themselves from the flurry of death at such a
time, why, then, where would be the army? It was all plain that he had
proceeded according to very correct and commendable rules. His actions had been
sagacious things. They had been full of strategy. They were the work of a
master&rsquo;s legs.
</p>

<p>
Thoughts of his comrades came to him. The brittle blue line had withstood the
blows and won. He grew bitter over it. It seemed that the blind ignorance and
stupidity of those little pieces had betrayed him. He had been overturned and
crushed by their lack of sense in holding the position, when intelligent
deliberation would have convinced them that it was impossible. He, the
enlightened man who looks afar in the dark, had fled because of his superior
perceptions and knowledge. He felt a great anger against his comrades. He knew
it could be proved that they had been fools.
</p>

<p>
He wondered what they would remark when later he appeared in camp. His mind
heard howls of derision. Their density would not enable them to understand his
sharper point of view.
</p>

<p>
He began to pity himself acutely. He was ill used. He was trodden beneath the
feet of an iron injustice. He had proceeded with wisdom and from the most
righteous motives under heaven&rsquo;s blue only to be frustrated by hateful
circumstances.
</p>

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

<p>
He went from the fields into a thick woods, as if resolved to bury himself. He
wished to get out of hearing of the crackling shots which were to him like
voices.
</p>

<p>
The ground was cluttered with vines and bushes, and the trees grew close and
spread out like bouquets. He was obliged to force his way with much noise. The
creepers, catching against his legs, cried out harshly as their sprays were
torn from the barks of trees. The swishing saplings tried to make known his
presence to the world. He could not conciliate the forest. As he made his way,
it was always calling out protestations. When he separated embraces of trees
and vines the disturbed foliages waved their arms and turned their face leaves
toward him. He dreaded lest these noisy motions and cries should bring men to
look at him. So he went far, seeking dark and intricate places.
</p>

<p>
After a time the sound of musketry grew faint and the cannon boomed in the
distance. The sun, suddenly apparent, blazed among the trees. The insects were
making rhythmical noises. They seemed to be grinding their teeth in unison. A
woodpecker stuck his impudent head around the side of a tree. A bird flew on
lighthearted wing.
</p>

<p>
Off was the rumble of death. It seemed now that Nature had no ears.
</p>

<p>
This landscape gave him assurance. A fair field holding life. It was the
religion of peace. It would die if its timid eyes were compelled to see blood.
He conceived Nature to be a woman with a deep aversion to tragedy.
</p>

<p>
He threw a pine cone at a jovial squirrel, and he ran with chattering fear.
High in a treetop he stopped, and, poking his head cautiously from behind a
branch, looked down with an air of trepidation.
</p>

<p>
The youth felt triumphant at this exhibition. There was the law, he said.
Nature had given him a sign. The squirrel, immediately upon recognizing danger,
had taken to his legs without ado. He did not stand stolidly baring his furry
belly to the missile, and die with an upward glance at the sympathetic heavens.
On the contrary, he had fled as fast as his legs could carry him; and he was
but an ordinary squirrel, too&mdash;doubtless no philosopher of his race. The
youth wended, feeling that Nature was of his mind. She re-enforced his argument
with proofs that lived where the sun shone.
</p>

<p>
Once he found himself almost into a swamp. He was obliged to walk upon bog
tufts and watch his feet to keep from the oily mire. Pausing at one time to
look about him he saw, out at some black water, a small animal pounce in and
emerge directly with a gleaming fish.
</p>

<p>
The youth went again into the deep thickets. The brushed branches made a noise
that drowned the sounds of cannon. He walked on, going from obscurity into
promises of a greater obscurity.
</p>

<p>
At length he reached a place where the high, arching boughs made a chapel. He
softly pushed the green doors aside and entered. Pine needles were a gentle
brown carpet. There was a religious half light.
</p>

<p>
Near the threshold he stopped, horror-stricken at the sight of a thing.
</p>

<p>
He was being looked at by a dead man who was seated with his back against a
columnlike tree. The corpse was dressed in a uniform that had 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 seen on the side of a dead fish. The
mouth was open. Its red had changed to an appalling yellow. Over the gray skin
of the face ran little ants. One was trundling some sort of bundle along the
upper lip.
</p>

<p>
The youth gave a shriek as he confronted the thing. He was for moments turned
to stone before it. He remained staring into the liquid-looking eyes. The dead
man and the living man exchanged a long look. Then the youth cautiously put one
hand behind him and brought it against a tree. Leaning upon this he retreated,
step by step, with his face still toward the thing. He feared that if he turned
his back the body might spring up and stealthily pursue him.
</p>

<p>
The branches, pushing against him, threatened to throw him over upon it. His
unguided feet, too, caught aggravatingly in brambles; and with it all he
received a subtle suggestion to touch the corpse. As he thought of his hand
upon it he shuddered profoundly.
</p>

<p>
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 ants swarming
greedily upon the gray face and venturing horribly near to the eyes.
</p>

<p>
After a time he paused, and, breathless and panting, listened. He imagined some
strange voice would come from the dead throat and squawk after him in horrible
menaces.
</p>

<p>
The trees about the portal of the chapel moved soughingly in a soft wind. A sad
silence was upon the little guarding edifice.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap08"></a>Chapter VIII.</h2>

<p>
The trees began softly to sing a hymn of twilight. The sun sank until slanted
bronze rays struck the forest. There was a lull in the noises of insects as if
they had bowed their beaks and were making a devotional pause. There was
silence save for the chanted chorus of the trees.
</p>

<p>
Then, upon this stillness, there suddenly broke a tremendous clangor of sounds.
A crimson roar came from the distance.
</p>

<p>
The youth stopped. He was transfixed by this terrific medley of all noises. It
was as if worlds were being rended. There was the ripping sound of musketry and
the breaking crash of the artillery.
</p>

<p>
His mind flew in all directions. He conceived the two armies to be at each
other panther fashion. He listened for a time. Then he began to run in the
direction of the battle. He saw that it was an ironical thing for him to be
running thus toward that which he had been at such pains to avoid. But he said,
in substance, to himself that if the earth and the moon were about to clash,
many persons would doubtless plan to get upon the roofs to witness the
collision.
</p>

<p>
As he ran, he became aware that the forest had stopped its music, as if at last
becoming capable of hearing the foreign sounds. The trees hushed and stood
motionless. Everything seemed to be listening to the crackle and clatter and
earthshaking thunder. The chorus peaked over the still earth.
</p>

<p>
It suddenly occurred to the youth that the fight in which he had been was,
after all, but perfunctory popping. In the hearing of this present din he was
doubtful if he had seen real battle scenes. This uproar explained a celestial
battle; it was tumbling hordes a-struggle in the air.
</p>

<p>
Reflecting, he saw a sort of a humor in the point of view of himself and his
fellows during the late encounter. They had taken themselves and the enemy very
seriously and had imagined that they were deciding the war. Individuals must
have supposed that they were cutting the letters of their names deep into
everlasting tablets of brass, or enshrining their reputations forever in the
hearts of their countrymen, while, as to fact, the affair would appear in
printed reports under a meek and immaterial title. But he saw that it was good,
else, he said, in battle every one would surely run save forlorn hopes and
their ilk.
</p>

<p>
He went rapidly on. He wished to come to the edge of the forest that he might
peer out.
</p>

<p>
As he hastened, there passed through his mind pictures of stupendous conflicts.
His accumulated thought upon such subjects was used to form scenes. The noise
was as the voice of an eloquent being, describing.
</p>

<p>
Sometimes the brambles formed chains and tried to hold him back. Trees,
confronting him, stretched out their arms and forbade him to pass. After its
previous hostility this new resistance of the forest filled him with a fine
bitterness. It seemed that Nature could not be quite ready to kill him.
</p>

<p>
But he obstinately took roundabout ways, and presently he was where he could
see long gray walls of vapor where lay battle lines. The voices of cannon shook
him. The musketry sounded in long irregular surges that played havoc with his
ears. He stood regardant for a moment. His eyes had an awestruck expression. He
gawked in the direction of the fight.
</p>

<p>
Presently he proceeded again on his forward way. The battle was like the
grinding of an immense and terrible machine to him. Its complexities and
powers, its grim processes, fascinated him. He must go close and see it produce
corpses.
</p>

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

<p>
In this place the youth felt that he was an invader. This forgotten part of the
battle ground was owned by the dead men, and he hurried, in the vague
apprehension that one of the swollen forms would rise and tell him to begone.
</p>

<p>
He came finally to a road from which he could see in the distance dark and
agitated bodies of troops, smoke-fringed. In the lane was a blood-stained crowd
streaming to the rear. The wounded men were cursing, groaning, and wailing. In
the air, always, was a mighty swell of sound that it seemed could sway the
earth. With the courageous words of the artillery and the spiteful sentences of
the musketry mingled red cheers. And from this region of noises came the steady
current of the maimed.
</p>

<p>
One of the wounded men had a shoeful of blood. He hopped like a schoolboy in a
game. He was laughing hysterically.
</p>

<p>
One was swearing that he had been shot in the arm through the commanding
general&rsquo;s mismanagement of the army. One was marching with an air
imitative of some sublime drum major. Upon his features was an unholy mixture
of merriment and agony. As he marched he sang a bit of doggerel in a high and
quavering voice:
</p>

<p class="poem">
&ldquo;Sing a song &rsquo;a vic&rsquo;try,<br>
    A pocketful &rsquo;a bullets,<br>
Five an&rsquo; twenty dead men<br>
    Baked in a&mdash;pie.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
Parts of the procession limped and staggered to this tune.
</p>

<p>
Another had the gray seal of death already upon his face. His lips were curled
in hard lines and his teeth were clinched. His hands were bloody from where he
had pressed them upon his wound. He seemed to be awaiting the moment when he
should pitch headlong. He stalked like the specter of a soldier, his eyes
burning with the power of a stare into the unknown.
</p>

<p>
There were some who proceeded sullenly, full of anger at their wounds, and
ready to turn upon anything as an obscure cause.
</p>

<p>
An officer was carried along by two privates. He was peevish.
&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t joggle so, Johnson, yeh fool,&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;Think
m&rsquo; leg is made of iron? If yeh can&rsquo;t carry me decent, put me down
an&rsquo; let some one else do it.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
He bellowed at the tottering crowd who blocked the quick march of his bearers.
&ldquo;Say, make way there, can&rsquo;t yeh? Make way, dickens take it
all.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
They sulkily parted and went to the roadsides. As he was carried past they made
pert remarks to him. When he raged in reply and threatened them, they told him
to be damned.
</p>

<p>
The shoulder of one of the tramping bearers knocked heavily against the
spectral soldier who was staring into the unknown.
</p>

<p>
The youth joined this crowd and marched along with it. The torn bodies
expressed the awful machinery in which the men had been entangled.
</p>

<p>
Orderlies and couriers occasionally broke through the throng in the roadway,
scattering wounded men right and left, galloping on followed by howls. The
melancholy march was continually disturbed by the messengers, and sometimes by
bustling batteries that came swinging and thumping down upon them, the officers
shouting orders to clear the way.
</p>

<p>
There was a tattered man, fouled with dust, blood and powder stain from hair to
shoes, who trudged quietly at the youth&rsquo;s side. He was listening with
eagerness and much humility to the lurid descriptions of a bearded sergeant.
His lean features wore an expression of awe and admiration. He was like a
listener in a country store to wondrous tales told among the sugar barrels. He
eyed the story-teller with unspeakable wonder. His mouth was agape in yokel
fashion.
</p>

<p>
The sergeant, taking note of this, gave pause to his elaborate history while he
administered a sardonic comment. &ldquo;Be keerful, honey, you&rsquo;ll be
a-ketchin&rsquo; flies,&rdquo; he said.
</p>

<p>
The tattered man shrank back abashed.
</p>

<p>
After a time he began to sidle near to the youth, and in a diffident way try to
make him a friend. His voice was gentle as a girl&rsquo;s voice and his eyes
were pleading. The youth saw with surprise that the soldier had two wounds, one
in the head, bound with a blood-soaked rag, and the other in the arm, making
that member dangle like a broken bough.
</p>

<p>
After they had walked together for some time the tattered man mustered
sufficient courage to speak. &ldquo;Was pretty good fight, wa&rsquo;n&rsquo;t
it?&rdquo; he timidly said. The youth, deep in thought, glanced up at the
bloody and grim figure with its lamblike eyes. &ldquo;What?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Was pretty good fight, wa&rsquo;n&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the youth shortly. He quickened his pace.
</p>

<p>
But the other hobbled industriously after him. There was an air of apology in
his manner, but he evidently thought that he needed only to talk for a time,
and the youth would perceive that he was a good fellow.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Was pretty good fight, wa&rsquo;n&rsquo;t it?&rdquo; he began in a small
voice, and then he achieved the fortitude to continue. &ldquo;Dern me if I ever
see fellers fight so. Laws, how they did fight! I knowed th&rsquo; boys&rsquo;d
like when they onct got square at it. Th&rsquo; boys ain&rsquo;t had no fair
chanct up t&rsquo; now, but this time they showed what they was. I knowed
it&rsquo;d turn out this way. Yeh can&rsquo;t lick them boys. No, sir!
They&rsquo;re fighters, they be.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
He breathed a deep breath of humble admiration. He had looked at the youth for
encouragement several times. He received none, but gradually he seemed to get
absorbed in his subject.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;I was talkin&rsquo; &rsquo;cross pickets with a boy from Georgie, onct,
an&rsquo; that boy, he ses, &lsquo;Your fellers &rsquo;ll all run like hell
when they onct hearn a gun,&rsquo; he ses. &lsquo;Mebbe they will,&rsquo; I
ses, &lsquo;but I don&rsquo;t b&rsquo;lieve none of it,&rsquo; I ses;
&lsquo;an&rsquo; b&rsquo;jiminey,&rsquo; I ses back t&rsquo; &rsquo;um,
&lsquo;mebbe your fellers &rsquo;ll all run like hell when they onct hearn a
gun,&rsquo; I ses. He larfed. Well, they didn&rsquo;t run t&rsquo; day, did
they, hey? No, sir! They fit, an&rsquo; fit, an&rsquo; fit.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
His homely face was suffused with a light of love for the army which was to him
all things beautiful and powerful.
</p>

<p>
After a time he turned to the youth. &ldquo;Where yeh hit, ol&rsquo;
boy?&rdquo; he asked in a brotherly tone.
</p>

<p>
The youth felt instant panic at this question, although at first its full
import was not borne in upon him.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;What?&rdquo; he asked.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Where yeh hit?&rdquo; repeated the tattered man.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Why,&rdquo; began the youth, &ldquo;I&mdash;I&mdash;that
is&mdash;why&mdash;I&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
He turned away suddenly and slid through the crowd. His brow was heavily
flushed, and his fingers were picking nervously at one of his buttons. He bent
his head and fastened his eyes studiously upon the button as if it were a
little problem.
</p>

<p>
The tattered man looked after him in astonishment.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap09"></a>Chapter IX.</h2>

<p>
The youth fell back in the procession until the tattered soldier was not in
sight. Then he started to walk on with the others.
</p>

<p>
But he was amid wounds. The mob of men was bleeding. Because of the tattered
soldier&rsquo;s question he now felt that his shame could be viewed. He was
continually casting sidelong glances to see if the men were contemplating the
letters of guilt he felt burned into his brow.
</p>

<p>
At times he regarded the wounded soldiers in an envious way. He conceived
persons with torn bodies to be peculiarly happy. He wished that he, too, had a
wound, a red badge of courage.
</p>

<p>
The spectral soldier was at his side like a stalking reproach. The man&rsquo;s
eyes were still fixed in a stare into the unknown. His gray, appalling face had
attracted attention in the crowd, and men, slowing to his dreary pace, were
walking with him. They were discussing his plight, questioning him and giving
him advice. In a dogged way he repelled them, signing to them to go on and
leave him alone. The shadows of his face were deepening and his tight lips
seemed holding in check the moan of great despair. There could be seen a
certain stiffness in the movements of his body, as if he were taking infinite
care not to arouse the passion of his wounds. As he went on, he seemed always
looking for a place, like one who goes to choose a grave.
</p>

<p>
Something in the gesture of the man as he waved the bloody and pitying soldiers
away made the youth start as if bitten. He yelled in horror. Tottering forward
he laid a quivering hand upon the man&rsquo;s arm. As the latter slowly turned
his waxlike features toward him the youth screamed:
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Gawd! Jim Conklin!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The tall soldier made a little commonplace smile. &ldquo;Hello, Henry,&rdquo;
he said.
</p>

<p>
The youth swayed on his legs and glared strangely. He stuttered and stammered.
&ldquo;Oh, Jim&mdash;oh, Jim&mdash;oh, Jim&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The tall soldier held out his gory hand. There was a curious red and black
combination of new blood and old blood upon it. &ldquo;Where yeh been,
Henry?&rdquo; he asked. He continued in a monotonous voice, &ldquo;I thought
mebbe yeh got keeled over. There  been thunder t&rsquo; pay t&rsquo;-day. I was
worryin&rsquo; about it a good deal.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth still lamented. &ldquo;Oh, Jim&mdash;oh, Jim&mdash;oh,
Jim&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Yeh know,&rdquo; said the tall soldier, &ldquo;I was out there.&rdquo;
He made a careful gesture. &ldquo;An&rsquo;, Lord, what a circus! An&rsquo;,
b&rsquo;jiminey, I got shot&mdash;I got shot. Yes, b&rsquo;jiminey, I got
shot.&rdquo; He reiterated this fact in a bewildered way, as if he did not know
how it came about.
</p>

<p>
The youth put forth anxious arms to assist him, but the tall soldier went
firmly as if propelled. Since the youth&rsquo;s arrival as a guardian for his
friend, the other wounded men had ceased to display much interest. They
occupied themselves again in dragging their own tragedies toward the rear.
</p>

<p>
Suddenly, as the two friends marched on, the tall soldier seemed to be overcome
by a tremor. His face turned to a semblance of gray paste. He clutched the
youth&rsquo;s arm and looked all about him, as if dreading to be overheard.
Then he began to speak in a shaking whisper:
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;I tell yeh what I&rsquo;m &rsquo;fraid of, Henry&mdash;I&rsquo;ll tell
yeh what I&rsquo;m &rsquo;fraid of. I&rsquo;m &rsquo;fraid I&rsquo;ll fall
down&mdash;an&rsquo; then yeh know&mdash;them damned artillery
wagons&mdash;they like as not &rsquo;ll run over me. That&rsquo;s what
I&rsquo;m &rsquo;fraid of&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth cried out to him hysterically: &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take care of yeh,
Jim! I&rsquo;ll take care of yeh! I swear t&rsquo; Gawd I will!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Sure&mdash;will yeh, Henry?&rdquo; the tall soldier beseeched.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Yes&mdash;yes&mdash;I tell yeh&mdash;I&rsquo;ll take care of yeh,
Jim!&rdquo; protested the youth. He could not speak accurately because of the
gulpings in his throat.
</p>

<p>
But the tall soldier continued to beg in a lowly way. He now hung babelike to
the youth&rsquo;s arm. His eyes rolled in the wildness of his terror. &ldquo;I
was allus a good friend t&rsquo; yeh, wa&rsquo;n&rsquo;t I, Henry? I&rsquo;ve
allus been a pretty good feller, ain&rsquo;t I? An&rsquo; it ain&rsquo;t much
t&rsquo; ask, is it? Jest t&rsquo; pull me along outer th&rsquo; road?
I&rsquo;d do it fer you, wouldn&rsquo;t I, Henry?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
He paused in piteous anxiety to await his friend&rsquo;s reply.
</p>

<p>
The youth had reached an anguish where the sobs scorched him. He strove to
express his loyalty, but he could only make fantastic gestures.
</p>

<p>
However, the tall soldier seemed suddenly to forget all those fears. He became
again the grim, stalking specter of a soldier. He went stonily forward. The
youth wished his friend to lean upon him, but the other always shook his head
and strangely protested. &ldquo;No&mdash;no&mdash;no&mdash;leave me
be&mdash;leave me be&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
His look was fixed again upon the unknown. He moved with mysterious purpose,
and all of the youth&rsquo;s offers he brushed aside.
&ldquo;No&mdash;no&mdash;leave me be&mdash;leave me be&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth had to follow.
</p>

<p>
Presently the latter heard a voice talking softly near his shoulder. Turning he
saw that it belonged to the tattered soldier. &ldquo;Ye&rsquo;d better take
&rsquo;im outa th&rsquo; road, pardner. There&rsquo;s a batt&rsquo;ry
comin&rsquo; helitywhoop down th&rsquo; road an&rsquo; he&rsquo;ll git runned
over. He&rsquo;s a goner anyhow in about five minutes&mdash;yeh kin see that.
Ye&rsquo;d better take &rsquo;im outa th&rsquo; road. Where th&rsquo; blazes
does hi git his stren&rsquo;th from?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Lord knows!&rdquo; cried the youth. He was shaking his hands helplessly.
</p>

<p>
He ran forward presently and grasped the tall soldier by the arm. &ldquo;Jim!
Jim!&rdquo; he coaxed, &ldquo;come with me.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The tall soldier weakly tried to wrench himself free. &ldquo;Huh,&rdquo; he
said vacantly. He stared at the youth for a moment. At last he spoke as if
dimly comprehending. &ldquo;Oh! Inteh th&rsquo; fields? Oh!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
He started blindly through the grass.
</p>

<p>
The youth turned once to look at the lashing riders and jouncing guns of the
battery. He was startled from this view by a shrill outcry from the tattered
man.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Gawd! He&rsquo;s runnin&rsquo;!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
Turning his head swiftly, the youth saw his friend running in a staggering and
stumbling way toward a little clump of bushes. His heart seemed to wrench
itself almost free from his body at this sight. He made a noise of pain. He and
the tattered man began a pursuit. There was a singular race.
</p>

<p>
When he overtook the tall soldier he began to plead with all the words he could
find. &ldquo;Jim&mdash;Jim&mdash;what are you doing&mdash;what makes you do
this way&mdash;you&rsquo;ll hurt yerself.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The same purpose was in the tall soldier&rsquo;s face. He protested in a dulled
way, keeping his eyes fastened on the mystic place of his intentions.
&ldquo;No&mdash;no&mdash;don&rsquo;t tech me&mdash;leave me be&mdash;leave me
be&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth, aghast and filled with wonder at the tall soldier, began quaveringly
to question him. &ldquo;Where yeh goin&rsquo;, Jim? What you thinking about?
Where you going? Tell me, won&rsquo;t you, Jim?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The tall soldier faced about as upon relentless pursuers. In his eyes there was
a great appeal. &ldquo;Leave me be, can&rsquo;t yeh? Leave me be for a
minnit.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth recoiled. &ldquo;Why, Jim,&rdquo; he said, in a dazed way,
&ldquo;what&rsquo;s the matter with you?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The tall soldier turned and, lurching dangerously, went on. The youth and the
tattered soldier followed, sneaking as if whipped, feeling unable to face the
stricken man if he should again confront them. They began to have thoughts of a
solemn ceremony. There was something rite-like in these movements of the doomed
soldier. And there was a resemblance in him to a devotee of a mad religion,
blood-sucking, muscle-wrenching, bone-crushing. They were awed and afraid. They
hung back lest he have at command a dreadful weapon.
</p>

<p>
At last, they saw him stop and stand motionless. Hastening up, they perceived
that his face wore an expression telling that he had at last found the place
for which he had struggled. His spare figure was erect; his bloody hands were
quietly at his side. He was waiting with patience for something that he had
come to meet. He was at the rendezvous. They paused and stood, expectant.
</p>

<p>
There was a silence.
</p>

<p>
Finally, the chest of the doomed soldier began to heave with a strained motion.
It increased in violence until it was as if an animal was within and was
kicking and tumbling furiously to be free.
</p>

<p>
This spectacle of gradual strangulation made the youth writhe, and once as his
friend rolled his eyes, he saw something in them that made him sink wailing to
the ground. He raised his voice in a last supreme call.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Jim&mdash;Jim&mdash;Jim&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The tall soldier opened his lips and spoke. He made a gesture. &ldquo;Leave me
be&mdash;don&rsquo;t tech me&mdash;leave me be&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
There was another silence while he waited.
</p>

<p>
Suddenly his form stiffened and straightened. Then it was shaken by a prolonged
ague. He stared into space. To the two watchers there was a curious and
profound dignity in the firm lines of his awful face.
</p>

<p>
He was invaded by a creeping strangeness that slowly enveloped him. For a
moment the tremor of his legs caused him to dance a sort of hideous hornpipe.
His arms beat wildly about his head in expression of implike enthusiasm.
</p>

<p>
His tall figure stretched itself to its full height. There was a slight rending
sound. Then it began to swing forward, slow and straight, in the manner of a
falling tree. A swift muscular contortion made the left shoulder strike the
ground first.
</p>

<p>
The body seemed to bounce a little way from the earth. &ldquo;God!&rdquo; said
the tattered soldier.
</p>

<p>
The youth had watched, spellbound, this ceremony at the place of meeting. His
face had been twisted into an expression of every agony he had imagined for his
friend.
</p>

<p>
He now sprang to his feet and, going closer, gazed upon the pastelike face. The
mouth was open and the teeth showed in a laugh.
</p>

<p>
As the flap of the blue jacket fell away from the body, he could see that the
side looked as if it had been chewed by wolves.
</p>

<p>
The youth turned, with sudden, livid rage, toward the battlefield. He shook his
fist. He seemed about to deliver a philippic.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Hell&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The red sun was pasted in the sky like a wafer.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap10"></a>Chapter X.</h2>

<p>
The tattered man stood musing.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well, he was a reg&rsquo;lar jim-dandy fer nerve, wa&rsquo;n&rsquo;t
he,&rdquo; said he finally in a little awestruck voice. &ldquo;A reg&rsquo;lar
jim-dandy.&rdquo; He thoughtfully poked one of the docile hands with his foot.
&ldquo;I wonner where he got &rsquo;is stren&rsquo;th from? I never seen a man
do like that before. It was a funny thing. Well, he was a reg&rsquo;lar
jim-dandy.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth desired to screech out his grief. He was stabbed, but his tongue lay
dead in the tomb of his mouth. He threw himself again upon the ground and began
to brood.
</p>

<p>
The tattered man stood musing.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Look-a-here, pardner,&rdquo; he said, after a time. He regarded the
corpse as he spoke. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s up an&rsquo; gone, ain&rsquo;t &rsquo;e,
an&rsquo; we might as well begin t&rsquo; look out fer ol&rsquo; number one.
This here thing is all over. He&rsquo;s up an&rsquo; gone, ain&rsquo;t
&rsquo;e? An&rsquo; he&rsquo;s all right here. Nobody won&rsquo;t bother
&rsquo;im. An&rsquo; I must say I ain&rsquo;t enjoying any great health
m&rsquo;self these days.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth, awakened by the tattered soldier&rsquo;s tone, looked quickly up. He
saw that he was swinging uncertainly on his legs and that his face had turned
to a shade of blue.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Good Lord!&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;you ain&rsquo;t goin&rsquo;
t&rsquo;&mdash;not you, too.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The tattered man waved his hand. &ldquo;Nary die,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;All I
want is some pea soup an&rsquo; a good bed. Some pea soup,&rdquo; he repeated
dreamfully.
</p>

<p>
The youth arose from the ground. &ldquo;I wonder where he came from. I left him
over there.&rdquo; He pointed. &ldquo;And now I find &rsquo;im here. And he was
coming from over there, too.&rdquo; He indicated a new direction. They both
turned toward the body as if to ask of it a question.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; at length spoke the tattered man, &ldquo;there ain&rsquo;t
no use in our stayin&rsquo; here an&rsquo; tryin&rsquo; t&rsquo; ask him
anything.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth nodded an assent wearily. They both turned to gaze for a moment at
the corpse.
</p>

<p>
The youth murmured something.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well, he was a jim-dandy, wa&rsquo;n&rsquo;t &rsquo;e?&rdquo; said the
tattered man as if in response.
</p>

<p>
They turned their backs upon it and started away. For a time they stole softly,
treading with their toes. It remained laughing there in the grass.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;I&rsquo;m commencin&rsquo; t&rsquo; feel pretty bad,&rdquo; said the
tattered man, suddenly breaking one of his little silences. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m
commencin&rsquo; t&rsquo; feel pretty damn&rsquo; bad.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth groaned. &ldquo;Oh Lord!&rdquo; He wondered if he was to be the
tortured witness of another grim encounter.
</p>

<p>
But his companion waved his hand reassuringly. &ldquo;Oh, I&rsquo;m not
goin&rsquo; t&rsquo; die yit! There too much dependin&rsquo; on me fer me
t&rsquo; die yit. No, sir! Nary die! I <i>can&rsquo;t!</i> Ye&rsquo;d oughta
see th&rsquo; swad a&rsquo; chil&rsquo;ren I&rsquo;ve got, an&rsquo; all like
that.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth glancing at his companion could see by the shadow of a smile that he
was making some kind of fun.
</p>

<p>
As they plodded on the tattered soldier continued to talk. &ldquo;Besides, if I
died, I wouldn&rsquo;t die th&rsquo; way that feller did. That was th&rsquo;
funniest thing. I&rsquo;d jest flop down, I would. I never seen a feller die
th&rsquo; way that feller did.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Yeh know Tom Jamison, he lives next door t&rsquo; me up home. He&rsquo;s
a nice feller, he is, an&rsquo; we was allus good friends. Smart, too. Smart as
a steel trap. Well, when we was a-fightin&rsquo; this atternoon,
all-of-a-sudden he begin t&rsquo; rip up an&rsquo; cuss an&rsquo; beller at me.
&lsquo;Yer shot, yeh blamed infernal!&rsquo;&mdash;he swear horrible&mdash;he
ses t&rsquo; me. I put up m&rsquo; hand t&rsquo; m&rsquo; head an&rsquo; when I
looked at m&rsquo; fingers, I seen, sure &rsquo;nough, I was shot. I give a
holler an&rsquo; begin t&rsquo; run, but b&rsquo;fore I could git away another
one hit me in th&rsquo; arm an&rsquo; whirl&rsquo; me clean &rsquo;round. I got
skeared when they was all a-shootin&rsquo; b&rsquo;hind me an&rsquo; I run
t&rsquo; beat all, but I cotch it pretty bad. I&rsquo;ve an idee I&rsquo;d a&rsquo;
been fightin&rsquo; yit, if t&rsquo;wasn&rsquo;t fer Tom Jamison.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
Then he made a calm announcement: &ldquo;There&rsquo;s two of
&rsquo;em&mdash;little ones&mdash;but they&rsquo;re beginnin&rsquo; t&rsquo;
have fun with me now. I don&rsquo;t b&rsquo;lieve I kin walk much
furder.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
They went slowly on in silence. &ldquo;Yeh look pretty peek&rsquo;ed
yerself,&rdquo; said the tattered man at last. &ldquo;I bet yeh&rsquo;ve got a
worser one than yeh think. Ye&rsquo;d better take keer of yer hurt. It
don&rsquo;t do t&rsquo; let sech things go. It might be inside mostly,
an&rsquo; them plays thunder. Where is it located?&rdquo; But he continued his
harangue without waiting for a reply. &ldquo;I see a feller git hit plum in
th&rsquo; head when my reg&rsquo;ment was a-standin&rsquo; at ease onct.
An&rsquo; everybody yelled to &rsquo;im: &lsquo;Hurt, John? Are yeh hurt
much?&rsquo; &lsquo;No,&rsquo; ses he. He looked kinder surprised, an&rsquo; he
went on tellin&rsquo; &rsquo;em how he felt. He sed he didn&rsquo;t feel
nothin&rsquo;. But, by dad, th&rsquo; first thing that feller knowed he was
dead. Yes, he was dead&mdash;stone dead. So, yeh wanta watch out. Yeh might
have some queer kind &rsquo;a hurt yerself. Yeh can&rsquo;t never tell. Where
is your&rsquo;n located?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth had been wriggling since the introduction of this topic. He now gave
a cry of exasperation and made a furious motion with his hand. &ldquo;Oh,
don&rsquo;t bother me!&rdquo; he said. He was enraged against the tattered man,
and could have strangled him. His companions seemed ever to play intolerable
parts. They were ever upraising the ghost of shame on the stick of their
curiosity. He turned toward the tattered man as one at bay. &ldquo;Now,
don&rsquo;t bother me,&rdquo; he repeated with desperate menace.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well, Lord knows I don&rsquo;t wanta bother anybody,&rdquo; said the
other. There was a little accent of despair in his voice as he replied,
&ldquo;Lord knows I&rsquo;ve gota &rsquo;nough m&rsquo; own t&rsquo; tend
to.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth, who had been holding a bitter debate with himself and casting
glances of hatred and contempt at the tattered man, here spoke in a hard voice.
&ldquo;Good-by,&rdquo; he said.
</p>

<p>
The tattered man looked at him in gaping amazement. &ldquo;Why&mdash;why,
pardner, where yeh goin&rsquo;?&rdquo; he asked unsteadily. The youth looking
at him, could see that he, too, like that other one, was beginning to act dumb
and animal-like. His thoughts seemed to be floundering about in his head.
&ldquo;Now&mdash;now&mdash;look&mdash;a&mdash;here, you Tom
Jamison&mdash;now&mdash;I won&rsquo;t have this&mdash;this here won&rsquo;t do.
Where&mdash;where yeh goin&rsquo;?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth pointed vaguely. &ldquo;Over there,&rdquo; he replied.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well, now look&mdash;a&mdash;here&mdash;now,&rdquo; said the tattered
man, rambling on in idiot fashion. His head was hanging forward and his words
were slurred. &ldquo;This thing won&rsquo;t do, now, Tom Jamison. It
won&rsquo;t do. I know yeh, yeh pig-headed devil. Yeh wanta go trompin&rsquo;
off with a bad hurt. It ain&rsquo;t right&mdash;now&mdash;Tom Jamison&mdash;it
ain&rsquo;t. Yeh wanta leave me take keer of yeh, Tom Jamison. It
ain&rsquo;t&mdash;right&mdash;it ain&rsquo;t&mdash;fer yeh t&rsquo;
go&mdash;trompin&rsquo; off&mdash;with a bad hurt&mdash;it
ain&rsquo;t&mdash;ain&rsquo;t&mdash;ain&rsquo;t right&mdash;it
ain&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
In reply the youth climbed a fence and started away. He could hear the tattered
man bleating plaintively.
</p>

<p>
Once he faced about angrily. &ldquo;What?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Look&mdash;a&mdash;here, now, Tom Jamison&mdash;now&mdash;it
ain&rsquo;t&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth went on. Turning at a distance he saw the tattered man wandering
about helplessly in the field.
</p>

<p>
He now thought that he wished he was dead. He believed he envied those men
whose bodies lay strewn over the grass of the fields and on the fallen leaves
of the forest.
</p>

<p>
The simple questions of the tattered man had been knife thrusts to him. They
asserted a society that probes pitilessly at secrets until all is apparent. His
late companion&rsquo;s chance persistency made him feel that he could not keep
his crime concealed in his bosom. It was sure to be brought plain by one of
those arrows which cloud the air and are constantly pricking, discovering,
proclaiming those things which are willed to be forever hidden. He admitted
that he could not defend himself against this agency. It was not within the
power of vigilance.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap11"></a>Chapter XI.</h2>

<p>
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 fields became dotted.
</p>

<p>
As he rounded a hillock, he perceived that the roadway was now a crying mass of
wagons, teams, and men. From the heaving tangle issued exhortations, commands,
imprecations. Fear was sweeping it all along. The cracking whips bit and horses
plunged and tugged. The white-topped wagons strained and stumbled in their
exertions like fat sheep.
</p>

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

<p>
Presently the calm head of a forward-going column of infantry appeared in the
road. It came swiftly on. Avoiding the obstructions gave it the sinuous
movement of a serpent. The men at the head butted mules with their musket
stocks. They prodded teamsters indifferent to all howls. The men forced their
way through parts of the dense mass by strength. The blunt head of the column
pushed. The raving teamsters swore many strange oaths.
</p>

<p>
The commands to make way had the ring of a great importance in them. The men
were going forward to the heart of the din. They were to confront the eager
rush of the enemy. They felt the pride of their onward movement when the
remainder of the army seemed trying to dribble down this road. They tumbled
teams about with a fine feeling that it was no matter so long as their column
got to the front in time. This importance made their faces grave and stern. And
the backs of the officers were very rigid.
</p>

<p>
As the youth looked at them the black weight of his woe returned to him. He
felt that he was regarding a procession of chosen beings. The separation was as
great to him as if they had marched with weapons of flame and banners of
sunlight. He could never be like them. He could have wept in his longings.
</p>

<p>
He searched about in his mind for an adequate malediction for the indefinite
cause, the thing upon which men turn the words of final blame.
It&mdash;whatever it was&mdash;was responsible for him, he said. There lay the
fault.
</p>

<p>
The haste of the column to reach the battle seemed to the forlorn young man to
be something much finer than stout fighting. Heroes, he thought, could find
excuses in that long seething lane. They could retire with perfect self-respect
and make excuses to the stars.
</p>

<p>
He wondered what those men had eaten that they could be in such haste to force
their way to grim chances of death. As he watched his envy grew until he
thought that he wished to change lives with one of them. He would have liked to
have used a tremendous force, he said, throw off himself and become a better.
Swift pictures of himself, apart, yet in himself, came to him&mdash;a blue
desperate figure leading lurid charges with one knee forward and a broken blade
high&mdash;a blue, determined figure standing before a crimson and steel
assault, getting calmly killed on a high place before the eyes of all. He
thought of the magnificent pathos of his dead body.
</p>

<p>
These thoughts uplifted him. He felt the quiver of war desire. In his ears, he
heard the ring of victory. He knew the frenzy of a rapid successful charge. The
music of the trampling feet, the sharp voices, the clanking arms of the column
near him made him soar on the red wings of war. For a few moments he was
sublime.
</p>

<p>
He thought that he was about to start for the front. Indeed, he saw a picture
of himself, dust-stained, haggard, panting, flying to the front at the proper
moment to seize and throttle the dark, leering witch of calamity.
</p>

<p>
Then the difficulties of the thing began to drag at him. He hesitated,
balancing awkwardly on one foot.
</p>

<p>
He had no rifle; he could not fight with his hands, said he resentfully to his
plan. Well, rifles could be had for the picking. They were extraordinarily
profuse.
</p>

<p>
Also, he continued, it would be a miracle if he found his regiment. Well, he
could fight with any regiment.
</p>

<p>
He started forward slowly. He stepped as if he expected to tread upon some
explosive thing. Doubts and he were struggling.
</p>

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

<p>
But then he said that his tireless fate would bring forth, when the strife
lulled for a moment, a man to ask of him an explanation. In imagination he felt
the scrutiny of his companions as he painfully labored through some lies.
</p>

<p>
Eventually, his courage expended itself upon these objections. The debates
drained him of his fire.
</p>

<p>
He was not cast down by this defeat of his plan, for, upon studying the affair
carefully, he could not but admit that the objections were very formidable.
</p>

<p>
Furthermore, various ailments had begun to cry out. In their presence he could
not persist in flying high with the wings of war; they rendered it almost
impossible for him to see himself in a heroic light. He tumbled headlong.
</p>

<p>
He discovered that he had a scorching thirst. His face was so dry and grimy
that he thought he could feel his skin crackle. Each bone of his body had an
ache in it, and seemingly threatened to break with each movement. His feet were
like two sores. Also, his body was calling for food. It was more powerful than
a direct hunger. There was a dull, weight-like feeling in his 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.
</p>

<p>
While he had been tossed by many emotions, he had not been aware of ailments.
Now they beset him and made clamor. As he was at last compelled to pay
attention to them, his capacity for self-hate was multiplied. In despair, he
declared that he was not like those others. He now conceded it to be impossible
that he should ever become a hero. He was a craven loon. Those pictures of
glory were piteous things. He groaned from his heart and went staggering off.
</p>

<p>
A certain mothlike quality within him kept him in the vicinity of the battle.
He had a great desire to see, and to get news. He wished to know who was
winning.
</p>

<p>
He told himself that, despite his unprecedented suffering, he had never lost
his greed for a victory, yet, he said, in a half-apologetic manner to his
conscience, he could not but know that a defeat for the army this time might
mean many favorable things for him. The blows of the enemy would splinter
regiments into fragments. Thus, many men of courage, he considered, would be
obliged to desert the colors and scurry like chickens. He would appear as one
of them. They would be sullen brothers in distress, and he could then easily
believe he had not run any farther or faster than they. And if he himself could
believe in his virtuous perfection, he conceived that there would be small
trouble in convincing all others.
</p>

<p>
He said, as if in excuse for this hope, that previously the army had
encountered great defeats and in a few months had shaken off all blood and
tradition of them, emerging as bright and valiant as a new one; thrusting out
of sight the memory of disaster, and appearing with the valor and confidence of
unconquered legions. The shrilling voices of the people at home would pipe
dismally for a time, but various generals were usually compelled to listen to
these ditties. He of course felt no compunctions for proposing a general as a
sacrifice. He could not tell who the chosen for the barbs might be, so he could
center no direct sympathy upon him. The people were afar and he did not
conceive public opinion to be accurate at long range. It was quite probable
they would hit the wrong man who, after he had recovered from his amazement
would perhaps spend the rest of his days in writing replies to the songs of his
alleged failure. It would be very unfortunate, no doubt, but in this case a
general was of no consequence to the youth.
</p>

<p>
In a defeat there would be a roundabout vindication of himself. He thought it
would prove, in a manner, that he had fled early because of his superior powers
of perception. A serious prophet upon predicting a flood should be the first
man to climb a tree. This would demonstrate that he was indeed a seer.
</p>

<p>
A moral vindication was regarded by the youth as a very important thing.
Without salve, he could not, he thought, wear the sore badge of his dishonor
through life. With his heart continually assuring him that he was despicable,
he could not exist without making it, through his actions, apparent to all men.
</p>

<p>
If the army had gone gloriously on he would be lost. If the din meant that now
his army&rsquo;s flags were tilted forward he was a condemned wretch. He would
be compelled to doom himself to isolation. If the men were advancing, their
indifferent feet were trampling upon his chances for a successful life.
</p>

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

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

<p>
A defeat of the army had suggested itself to him as a means of escape from the
consequences of his fall. He considered, now, however, that it was useless to
think of such a possibility. His education had been that success for that
mighty blue machine was certain; that it would make victories as a contrivance
turns out buttons. He presently discarded all his speculations in the other
direction. He returned to the creed of soldiers.
</p>

<p>
When he perceived again that it was not possible for the army to be defeated,
he tried to bethink him of a fine tale which he could take back to his
regiment, and with it turn the expected shafts of derision.
</p>

<p>
But, as he mortally feared these shafts, it became impossible for him to invent
a tale he felt he could trust. He experimented with many schemes, but threw
them aside one by one as flimsy. He was quick to see vulnerable places in them
all.
</p>

<p>
Furthermore, he was much afraid that some arrow of scorn might lay him mentally
low before he could raise his protecting tale.
</p>

<p>
He imagined the whole regiment saying: &ldquo;Where&rsquo;s Henry Fleming? He
run, didn&rsquo;t &rsquo;e? Oh, my!&rdquo; He recalled various persons who
would be quite sure to leave him no peace about it. They would doubtless
question him with sneers, and laugh at his stammering hesitation. In the next
engagement they would try to keep watch of him to discover when he would run.
</p>

<p>
Wherever he went in camp, he would encounter insolent and lingeringly cruel
stares. As he imagined himself passing near a crowd of comrades, he could hear
one say, &ldquo;There he goes!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
Then, as if the heads were moved by one muscle, all the faces were turned
toward him with wide, derisive grins. He seemed to hear some one make a
humorous remark in a low tone. At it the others all crowed and cackled. He was
a slang phrase.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap12"></a>Chapter XII.</h2>

<p>
The column that had butted stoutly at the obstacles in the roadway was barely
out of the youth&rsquo;s sight before he saw dark waves of men come sweeping
out of the woods and down through the fields. He knew at once that the steel
fibers had been washed from their hearts. They were bursting from their coats
and their equipments as from entanglements. They charged down upon him like
terrified buffaloes.
</p>

<p>
Behind them blue smoke curled and clouded above the treetops, and through the
thickets he could sometimes see a distant pink glare. The voices of the cannon
were clamoring in interminable chorus.
</p>

<p>
The youth was horrorstricken. He stared in agony and amazement. He forgot that
he was engaged in combating the universe. He threw aside his mental pamphlets
on the philosophy of the retreated and rules for the guidance of the damned.
</p>

<p>
The fight was lost. The dragons were coming with invincible strides. The army,
helpless in the matted thickets and blinded by the overhanging night, was going
to be swallowed. War, the red animal, war, the blood-swollen god, would have
bloated fill.
</p>

<p>
Within him something bade to cry out. He had the impulse to make a rallying
speech, to sing a battle hymn, but he could only get his tongue to call into
the air: &ldquo;Why&mdash;why&mdash;what&mdash;what&rsquo;s th&rsquo;
matter?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
Soon he was in the midst of them. They were leaping and scampering all about
him. Their blanched faces shone in the dusk. They seemed, for the most part, to
be very burly men. The youth turned from one to another of them as they
galloped along. His incoherent questions were lost. They were heedless of his
appeals. They did not seem to see him.
</p>

<p>
They sometimes gabbled insanely. One huge man was asking of the sky:
&ldquo;Say, where de plank road? Where de plank road!&rdquo; It was as if he
had lost a child. He wept in his pain and dismay.
</p>

<p>
Presently, men were running hither and thither in all ways. The artillery
booming, forward, rearward, and on the flanks made jumble of ideas of
direction. Landmarks had vanished into the gathered gloom. The youth began to
imagine that he had got into the center of the tremendous quarrel, and he could
perceive no way out of it. From the mouths of the fleeing men came a thousand
wild questions, but no one made answers.
</p>

<p>
The youth, after rushing about and throwing interrogations at the heedless
bands of retreating infantry, finally clutched a man by the arm. They swung
around face to face.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Why&mdash;why&mdash;&rdquo; stammered the youth struggling with his
balking tongue.
</p>

<p>
The man screamed: &ldquo;Let go me! Let go me!&rdquo; His face was livid and
his eyes were rolling uncontrolled. He was heaving and panting. He still
grasped his rifle, perhaps having forgotten to release his hold upon it. He
tugged frantically, and the youth being compelled to lean forward was dragged
several paces.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Let go me! Let go me!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Why&mdash;why&mdash;&rdquo; stuttered the youth.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well, then!&rdquo; bawled the man in a lurid rage. He adroitly and
fiercely swung his rifle. It crushed upon the youth&rsquo;s head. The man ran
on.
</p>

<p>
The youth&rsquo;s fingers had turned to paste upon the other&rsquo;s arm. The
energy was smitten from his muscles. He saw the flaming wings of lightning
flash before his vision. There was a deafening rumble of thunder within his
head.
</p>

<p>
Suddenly his legs seemed to die. He sank writhing to the ground. He tried to
arise. In his efforts against the numbing pain he was like a man wrestling with
a creature of the air.
</p>

<p>
There was a sinister struggle.
</p>

<p>
Sometimes he would achieve a position half erect, battle with the air for a
moment, and then fall again, grabbing at the grass. His face was of a clammy
pallor. Deep groans were wrenched from him.
</p>

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

<p>
He fought an intense battle with his body. His dulled senses wished him to
swoon and he opposed them stubbornly, his mind portraying unknown dangers and
mutilations if he should fall upon the field. He went tall soldier fashion. He
imagined secluded spots where he could fall and be unmolested. To search for
one he strove against the tide of pain.
</p>

<p>
Once he put his hand to the top of his head and timidly touched the wound. The
scratching pain of the contact made him draw a long breath through his clinched
teeth. His fingers were dabbled with blood. He regarded them with a fixed
stare.
</p>

<p>
Around him he could hear the grumble of jolted cannon as the scurrying horses
were lashed toward the front. Once, a young officer on a besplashed charger
nearly ran him down. He turned and watched the mass of guns, men, and horses
sweeping in a wide curve toward a gap in a fence. The officer was making
excited motions with a gauntleted hand. The guns followed the teams with an air
of unwillingness, of being dragged by the heels.
</p>

<p>
Some officers of the scattered infantry were cursing and railing like
fishwives. Their scolding voices could be heard above the din. Into the
unspeakable jumble in the roadway rode a squadron of cavalry. The faded yellow
of their facings shone bravely. There was a mighty altercation.
</p>

<p>
The artillery were assembling as if for a conference.
</p>

<p>
The blue haze of evening was upon the field. The lines of forest were long
purple shadows. One cloud lay along the western sky partly smothering the red.
</p>

<p>
As the youth left the scene behind him, he heard the guns suddenly roar out. He
imagined them shaking in black rage. They belched and howled like brass devils
guarding a gate. The soft air was filled with the tremendous remonstrance. With
it came the shattering peal of opposing infantry. Turning to look behind him,
he could see sheets of orange light illumine the shadowy distance. There were
subtle and sudden lightnings in the far air. At times he thought he could see
heaving masses of men.
</p>

<p>
He hurried on in the dusk. The day had faded until he could barely distinguish
place for his feet. The purple darkness was filled with men who lectured and
jabbered. Sometimes he could see them gesticulating against the blue and somber
sky. There seemed to be a great ruck of men and munitions spread about in the
forest and in the fields.
</p>

<p>
The little narrow roadway now lay lifeless. There were overturned wagons like
sun-dried bowlders. The bed of the former torrent was choked with the bodies of
horses and splintered parts of war machines.
</p>

<p>
It had come to pass that his wound pained him but little. He was afraid to move
rapidly, however, for a dread of disturbing it. He held his head very still and
took many precautions against stumbling. He was filled with anxiety, and his
face was pinched and drawn in anticipation of the pain of any sudden mistake of
his feet in the gloom.
</p>

<p>
His thoughts, as he walked, fixed intently upon his hurt. There was a cool,
liquid feeling about it and he imagined blood moving slowly down under his
hair. His head seemed swollen to a size that made him think his neck to be
inadequate.
</p>

<p>
The new silence of his wound made much worriment. The little blistering voices
of pain that had called out from his scalp were, he thought, definite in their
expression of danger. By them he believed he could measure his plight. But when
they remained ominously silent he became frightened and imagined terrible
fingers that clutched into his brain.
</p>

<p>
Amid it he began to reflect upon various incidents and conditions of the past.
He bethought him of certain meals his mother had cooked at home, in which those
dishes of which he was particularly fond had occupied prominent positions. He
saw the spread table. The pine walls of the kitchen were glowing in the warm
light from the stove. Too, he remembered how he and his companions used to go
from the school-house to the bank of a shaded pool. He saw his clothes in
disorderly array upon the grass of the bank. He felt the swash of the fragrant
water upon his body. The leaves of the overhanging maple rustled with melody in
the wind of youthful summer.
</p>

<p>
He was overcome presently by a dragging weariness. His head hung forward and
his shoulders were stooped as if he were bearing a great bundle. His feet
shuffled along the ground.
</p>

<p>
He held continuous arguments as to whether he should lie down and sleep at some
near spot, or force himself on until he reached a certain haven. He often tried
to dismiss the question, but his body persisted in rebellion and his senses
nagged at him like pampered babies.
</p>

<p>
At last he heard a cheery voice near his shoulder: &ldquo;Yeh seem t&rsquo; be
in a pretty bad way, boy?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth did not look up, but he assented with thick tongue. &ldquo;Uh!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The owner of the cheery voice took him firmly by the arm. &ldquo;Well,&rdquo;
he said, with a round laugh, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m goin&rsquo; your way. Th&rsquo;
hull gang is goin&rsquo; your way. An&rsquo; I guess I kin give yeh a
lift.&rdquo; They began to walk like a drunken man and his friend.
</p>

<p>
As they went along, the man questioned the youth and assisted him with the
replies like one manipulating the mind of a child. Sometimes he interjected
anecdotes. &ldquo;What reg&rsquo;ment do yeh b&rsquo;long teh? Eh? What&rsquo;s
that? Th&rsquo; 304th N&rsquo; York? Why, what corps is that in? Oh, it is?
Why, I thought they wasn&rsquo;t engaged t&rsquo;-day-they&rsquo;re &rsquo;way
over in th&rsquo; center. Oh, they was, eh? Well pretty nearly everybody got
their share &rsquo;a fightin&rsquo; t&rsquo;-day. By dad, I give myself up fer
dead any number &rsquo;a times. There was shootin&rsquo; here an&rsquo;
shootin&rsquo; there, an&rsquo; hollerin&rsquo; here an&rsquo; hollerin&rsquo;
there, in th&rsquo; damn&rsquo; darkness, until I couldn&rsquo;t tell t&rsquo;
save m&rsquo; soul which side I was on. Sometimes I thought I was sure
&rsquo;nough from Ohier, an&rsquo; other times I could &rsquo;a swore I was
from th&rsquo; bitter end of Florida. It was th&rsquo; most mixed up dern thing
I ever see. An&rsquo; these here hull woods is a reg&rsquo;lar mess.
It&rsquo;ll be a miracle if we find our reg&rsquo;ments t&rsquo;-night. Pretty
soon, though, we&rsquo;ll meet a-plenty of guards an&rsquo; provost-guards,
an&rsquo; one thing an&rsquo; another. Ho! there they go with an off&rsquo;cer,
I guess. Look at his hand a-draggin&rsquo;. He&rsquo;s got all th&rsquo; war he
wants, I bet. He won&rsquo;t be talkin&rsquo; so big about his reputation
an&rsquo; all when they go t&rsquo; sawin&rsquo; off his leg. Poor feller! My
brother&rsquo;s got whiskers jest like that. How did yeh git &rsquo;way over
here, anyhow? Your reg&rsquo;ment is a long way from here, ain&rsquo;t it?
Well, I guess we can find it. Yeh know there was a boy killed in my
comp&rsquo;ny t&rsquo;-day that I thought th&rsquo; world an&rsquo; all of.
Jack was a nice feller. By ginger, it hurt like thunder t&rsquo; see ol&rsquo;
Jack jest git knocked flat. We was a-standin&rsquo; purty peaceable fer a
spell, &rsquo;though there was men runnin&rsquo; ev&rsquo;ry way all
&rsquo;round us, an&rsquo; while we was a-standin&rsquo; like that, &rsquo;long
come a big fat feller. He began t&rsquo; peck at Jack&rsquo;s elbow, an&rsquo;
he ses: &lsquo;Say, where&rsquo;s th&rsquo; road t&rsquo; th&rsquo;
river?&rsquo; An&rsquo; Jack, he never paid no attention, an&rsquo; th&rsquo;
feller kept on a-peckin&rsquo; at his elbow an&rsquo; sayin&rsquo;: &lsquo;Say,
where&rsquo;s th&rsquo; road t&rsquo; th&rsquo; river?&rsquo; Jack was
a-lookin&rsquo; ahead all th&rsquo; time tryin&rsquo; t&rsquo; see th&rsquo;
Johnnies comin&rsquo; through th&rsquo; woods, an&rsquo; he never paid no
attention t&rsquo; this big fat feller fer a long time, but at last he turned
&rsquo;round an&rsquo; he ses: &lsquo;Ah, go t&rsquo; hell an&rsquo; find
th&rsquo; road t&rsquo; th&rsquo; river!&rsquo; An&rsquo; jest then a shot
slapped him bang on th&rsquo; side th&rsquo; head. He was a sergeant, too. Them
was his last words. Thunder, I wish we was sure &rsquo;a findin&rsquo; our
reg&rsquo;ments t&rsquo;-night. It&rsquo;s goin&rsquo; t&rsquo; be long
huntin&rsquo;. But I guess we kin do it.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
In the search which followed, the man of the cheery voice seemed to the youth
to possess a wand of a magic kind. He threaded the mazes of the tangled forest
with a strange fortune. In encounters with guards and patrols he displayed the
keenness of a detective and the valor of a gamin. Obstacles fell before him and
became of assistance. The youth, with his chin still on his breast, stood
woodenly by while his companion beat ways and means out of sullen things.
</p>

<p>
The forest seemed a vast hive of men buzzing about in frantic circles, but the
cheery man conducted the youth without mistakes, until at last he began to
chuckle with glee and self-satisfaction. &ldquo;Ah, there yeh are! See that
fire?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth nodded stupidly.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well, there&rsquo;s where your reg&rsquo;ment is. An&rsquo; now,
good-by, ol&rsquo; boy, good luck t&rsquo; yeh.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
A warm and strong hand clasped the youth&rsquo;s languid fingers for an
instant, and then he heard a cheerful and audacious whistling as the man strode
away. As he who had so befriended him was thus passing out of his life, it
suddenly occurred to the youth that he had not once seen his face.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap13"></a>Chapter XIII.</h2>

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

<p>
He made vague plans to go off into the deeper darkness and hide, but they were
all destroyed by the voices of exhaustion and pain from his body. His ailments,
clamoring, forced him to seek the place of food and rest, at whatever cost.
</p>

<p>
He swung unsteadily toward the fire. He could see the forms of men throwing
black shadows in the red light, and as he went nearer it became known to him in
some way that the ground was strewn with sleeping men.
</p>

<p>
Of a sudden he confronted a black and monstrous figure. A rifle barrel caught
some glinting beams. &ldquo;Halt! halt!&rdquo; He was dismayed for a moment,
but he presently thought that he recognized the nervous voice. As he stood
tottering before the rifle barrel, he called out: &ldquo;Why, hello, Wilson,
you&mdash;you here?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The rifle was lowered to a position of caution and the loud soldier came slowly
forward. He peered into the youth&rsquo;s face. &ldquo;That you, Henry?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Yes, it&rsquo;s&mdash;it&rsquo;s me.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well, well, ol&rsquo; boy,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;by ginger,
I&rsquo;m glad t&rsquo; see yeh! I give yeh up fer a goner. I thought yeh was
dead sure enough.&rdquo; There was husky emotion in his voice.
</p>

<p>
The youth found that now he could barely stand upon his feet. There was a
sudden sinking of his forces. He thought he must hasten to produce his tale to
protect him from the missiles already on the lips of his redoubtable comrades.
So, staggering before the loud soldier, he began: &ldquo;Yes, yes.
I&rsquo;ve&mdash;I&rsquo;ve had an awful time. I&rsquo;ve been all over. Way
over on th&rsquo; right. Ter&rsquo;ble fightin&rsquo; over there. I had an
awful time. I got separated from the reg&rsquo;ment. Over on th&rsquo; right, I
got shot. In th&rsquo; head. I never see sech fightin&rsquo;. Awful time. I
don&rsquo;t see how I could a&rsquo; got separated from th&rsquo;
reg&rsquo;ment. I got shot, too.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
His friend had stepped forward quickly. &ldquo;What? Got shot? Why didn&rsquo;t
yeh say so first? Poor ol&rsquo; boy, we must&mdash;hol&rsquo; on a minnit;
what am I doin&rsquo;. I&rsquo;ll call Simpson.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
Another figure at that moment loomed in the gloom. They could see that it was
the corporal. &ldquo;Who yeh talkin&rsquo; to, Wilson?&rdquo; he demanded. His
voice was anger-toned. &ldquo;Who yeh talkin&rsquo; to? Yeh th&rsquo; derndest
sentinel&mdash;why&mdash;hello, Henry, you here? Why, I thought you was dead
four hours ago! Great Jerusalem, they keep turnin&rsquo; up every ten minutes
or so! We thought we&rsquo;d lost forty-two men by straight count, but if they
keep on a-comin&rsquo; this way, we&rsquo;ll git th&rsquo; comp&rsquo;ny all
back by mornin&rsquo; yit. Where was yeh?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Over on th&rsquo; right. I got separated&rdquo;&mdash;began the youth
with considerable glibness.
</p>

<p>
But his friend had interrupted hastily. &ldquo;Yes, an&rsquo; he got shot in
th&rsquo; head an&rsquo; he&rsquo;s in a fix, an&rsquo; we must see t&rsquo;
him right away.&rdquo; He rested his rifle in the hollow of his left arm and
his right around the youth&rsquo;s shoulder.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Gee, it must hurt like thunder!&rdquo; he said.
</p>

<p>
The youth leaned heavily upon his friend. &ldquo;Yes, it hurts&mdash;hurts a
good deal,&rdquo; he replied. There was a faltering in his voice.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said the corporal. He linked his arm in the youth&rsquo;s and
drew him forward. &ldquo;Come on, Henry. I&rsquo;ll take keer &rsquo;a
yeh.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
As they went on together the loud private called out after them: &ldquo;Put
&rsquo;im t&rsquo; sleep in my blanket, Simpson. An&rsquo;&mdash;hol&rsquo; on
a minnit&mdash;here&rsquo;s my canteen. It&rsquo;s full &rsquo;a coffee. Look
at his head by th&rsquo; fire an&rsquo; see how it looks. Maybe it&rsquo;s a
pretty bad un. When I git relieved in a couple &rsquo;a minnits, I&rsquo;ll be
over an&rsquo; see t&rsquo; him.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth&rsquo;s senses were so deadened that his friend&rsquo;s voice sounded
from afar and he could scarcely feel the pressure of the corporal&rsquo;s arm.
He submitted passively to the latter&rsquo;s directing strength. His head was
in the old manner hanging forward upon his breast. His knees wobbled.
</p>

<p>
The corporal led him into the glare of the fire. &ldquo;Now, Henry,&rdquo; he
said, &ldquo;let&rsquo;s have look at yer ol&rsquo; head.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth sat obediently and the corporal, laying aside his rifle, began to
fumble in the bushy hair of his comrade. He was obliged to turn the
other&rsquo;s head so that the full flush of the fire light would beam upon it.
He puckered his mouth with a critical air. He drew back his lips and whistled
through his teeth when his fingers came in contact with the splashed blood and
the rare wound.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Ah, here we are!&rdquo; he said. He awkwardly made further
investigations. &ldquo;Jest as I thought,&rdquo; he added, presently.
&ldquo;Yeh&rsquo;ve been grazed by a ball. It&rsquo;s raised a queer lump jest
as if some feller had lammed yeh on th&rsquo; head with a club. It stopped
a-bleedin&rsquo; long time ago. Th&rsquo; most about it is that in th&rsquo;
mornin&rsquo; yeh&rsquo;ll fell that a number ten hat wouldn&rsquo;t fit yeh.
An&rsquo; your head&rsquo;ll be all het up an&rsquo; feel as dry as burnt pork.
An&rsquo; yeh may git a lot &rsquo;a other sicknesses, too, by mornin&rsquo;.
Yeh can&rsquo;t never tell. Still, I don&rsquo;t much think so. It&rsquo;s jest
a damn&rsquo; good belt on th&rsquo; head, an&rsquo; nothin&rsquo; more. Now,
you jest sit here an&rsquo; don&rsquo;t move, while I go rout out th&rsquo;
relief. Then I&rsquo;ll send Wilson t&rsquo; take keer &rsquo;a yeh.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The corporal went away. The youth remained on the ground like a parcel. He
stared with a vacant look into the fire.
</p>

<p>
After a time he aroused, for some part, and the things about him began to take
form. He saw that the ground in the deep shadows was cluttered with men,
sprawling in every conceivable posture. Glancing narrowly into the more distant
darkness, he caught occasional glimpses of visages that loomed pallid and
ghostly, lit with a phosphorescent glow. These faces expressed in their lines
the deep stupor of the tired soldiers. They made them appear like men drunk
with wine. This bit of forest might have appeared to an ethereal wanderer as a
scene of the result of some frightful debauch.
</p>

<p>
On the other side of the fire the youth observed an officer asleep, seated bolt
upright, with his back against a tree. There was something perilous in his
position. Badgered by dreams, perhaps, he swayed with little bounces and
starts, like an old, toddy-stricken grandfather in a chimney corner. Dust and
stains were upon his face. His lower jaw hung down as if lacking strength to
assume its normal position. He was the picture of an exhausted soldier after a
feast of war.
</p>

<p>
He had evidently gone to sleep with his sword in his arms. These two had
slumbered in an embrace, but the weapon had been allowed in time to fall
unheeded to the ground. The brass-mounted hilt lay in contact with some parts
of the fire.
</p>

<p>
Within the gleam of rose and orange light from the burning sticks were other
soldiers, snoring and heaving, or lying deathlike in slumber. A few pairs of
legs were stuck forth, rigid and straight. The shoes displayed the mud or dust
of marches and bits of rounded trousers, protruding from the blankets, showed
rents and tears from hurried pitchings through the dense brambles.
</p>

<p>
The fire cackled musically. From it swelled light smoke. Overhead the foliage
moved softly. The leaves, with their faces turned toward the blaze, were
colored shifting hues of silver, often edged with red. Far off to the right,
through a window in the forest could be seen a handful of stars lying, like
glittering pebbles, on the black level of the night.
</p>

<p>
Occasionally, in this low-arched hall, a soldier would arouse and turn his body
to a new position, the experience of his sleep having taught him of uneven and
objectionable places upon the ground under him. Or, perhaps, he would lift
himself to a sitting posture, blink at the fire for an unintelligent moment,
throw a swift glance at his prostrate companion, and then cuddle down again
with a grunt of sleepy content.
</p>

<p>
The youth sat in a forlorn heap until his friend the loud young soldier came,
swinging two canteens by their light strings. &ldquo;Well, now, Henry,
ol&rsquo; boy,&rdquo; said the latter, &ldquo;we&rsquo;ll have yeh fixed up in
jest about a minnit.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
He had the bustling ways of an amateur nurse. He fussed around the fire and
stirred the sticks to brilliant exertions. He made his patient drink largely
from the canteen that contained the coffee. It was to the youth a delicious
draught. He tilted his head afar back and held the canteen long to his lips.
The cool mixture went caressingly down his blistered throat. Having finished,
he sighed with comfortable delight.
</p>

<p>
The loud young soldier watched his comrade with an air of satisfaction. He
later produced an extensive handkerchief from his pocket. He folded it into a
manner of bandage and soused water from the other canteen upon the middle of
it. This crude arrangement he bound over the youth&rsquo;s head, tying the ends
in a queer knot at the back of the neck.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;There,&rdquo; he said, moving off and surveying his deed, &ldquo;yeh
look like th&rsquo; devil, but I bet yeh feel better.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth contemplated his friend with grateful eyes. Upon his aching and
swelling head the cold cloth was like a tender woman&rsquo;s hand.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Yeh don&rsquo;t holler ner say nothin&rsquo;,&rdquo; remarked his friend
approvingly. &ldquo;I know I&rsquo;m a blacksmith at takin&rsquo; keer &rsquo;a
sick folks, an&rsquo; yeh never squeaked. Yer a good un, Henry. Most &rsquo;a
men would a&rsquo; been in th&rsquo; hospital long ago. A shot in th&rsquo;
head ain&rsquo;t foolin&rsquo; business.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth made no reply, but began to fumble with the buttons of his jacket.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well, come, now,&rdquo; continued his friend, &ldquo;come on. I must put
yeh t&rsquo; bed an&rsquo; see that yeh git a good night&rsquo;s rest.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The other got carefully erect, and the loud young soldier led him among the
sleeping forms lying in groups and rows. Presently he stooped and picked up his
blankets. He spread the rubber one upon the ground and placed the woolen one
about the youth&rsquo;s shoulders.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;There now,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;lie down an&rsquo; git some
sleep.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth, with his manner of doglike obedience, got carefully down like a
crone stooping. He stretched out with a murmur of relief and comfort. The
ground felt like the softest couch.
</p>

<p>
But of a sudden he ejaculated: &ldquo;Hol&rsquo; on a minnit! Where you
goin&rsquo; t&rsquo; sleep?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
His friend waved his hand impatiently. &ldquo;Right down there by yeh.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well, but hol&rsquo; on a minnit,&rdquo; continued the youth.
&ldquo;What yeh goin&rsquo; t&rsquo; sleep in? I&rsquo;ve got
your&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The loud young soldier snarled: &ldquo;Shet up an&rsquo; go on t&rsquo; sleep.
Don&rsquo;t be makin&rsquo; a damn&rsquo; fool &rsquo;a yerself,&rdquo; he said
severely.
</p>

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

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap14"></a>Chapter XIV.</h2>

<p>
When the youth awoke it seemed to him that he had been asleep for a thousand
years, and he felt sure that he opened his eyes upon an unexpected world. Gray
mists were slowly shifting before the first efforts of the sun rays. An
impending splendor could be seen in the eastern sky. An icy dew had chilled his
face, and immediately upon arousing he curled farther down into his blanket. He
stared for a while at the leaves overhead, moving in a heraldic wind of the
day.
</p>

<p>
The distance was splintering and blaring with the noise of fighting. There was
in the sound an expression of a deadly persistency, as if it had not began and
was not to cease.
</p>

<p>
About him were the rows and groups of men that he had dimly seen the previous
night. They were getting a last draught of sleep before the awakening. The
gaunt, careworn features and dusty figures were made plain by this quaint light
at the dawning, but it dressed the skin of the men in corpse-like hues and made
the tangled limbs appear pulseless and dead. The youth started up with a little
cry when his eyes first swept over this motionless mass of men, thick-spread
upon the ground, pallid, and in strange postures. His disordered mind
interpreted the hall of the forest as a charnel place. He believed for an
instant that he was in the house of the dead, and he did not dare to move lest
these corpses start up, squalling and squawking. In a second, however, he
achieved his proper mind. He swore a complicated oath at himself. He saw that
this somber picture was not a fact of the present, but a mere prophecy.
</p>

<p>
He heard then the noise of a fire crackling briskly in the cold air, and,
turning his head, he saw his friend pottering busily about a small blaze. A few
other figures moved in the fog, and he heard the hard cracking of axe blows.
</p>

<p>
Suddenly there was a hollow rumble of drums. A distant bugle sang faintly.
Similar sounds, varying in strength, came from near and far over the forest.
The bugles called to each other like brazen gamecocks. The near thunder of the
regimental drums rolled.
</p>

<p>
The body of men in the woods rustled. There was a general uplifting of heads. A
murmuring of voices broke upon the air. In it there was much bass of grumbling
oaths. Strange gods were addressed in condemnation of the early hours necessary
to correct war. An officer&rsquo;s peremptory tenor rang out and quickened the
stiffened movement of the men. The tangled limbs unraveled. The corpse-hued
faces were hidden behind fists that twisted slowly in the eye sockets.
</p>

<p>
The youth sat up and gave vent to an enormous yawn. &ldquo;Thunder!&rdquo; he
remarked petulantly. He rubbed his eyes, and then putting up his hand felt
carefully the bandage over his wound. His friend, perceiving him to be awake,
came from the fire. &ldquo;Well, Henry, ol&rsquo; man, how do yeh feel this
mornin&rsquo;?&rdquo; he demanded.
</p>

<p>
The youth yawned again. Then he puckered his mouth to a little pucker. His
head, in truth, felt precisely like a melon, and there was an unpleasant
sensation at his stomach.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh, Lord, I feel pretty bad,&rdquo; he said.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Thunder!&rdquo; exclaimed the other. &ldquo;I hoped ye&rsquo;d feel all
right this mornin&rsquo;. Let&rsquo;s see th&rsquo; bandage&mdash;I guess
it&rsquo;s slipped.&rdquo; He began to tinker at the wound in rather a clumsy
way until the youth exploded.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Gosh-dern it!&rdquo; he said in sharp irritation; &ldquo;you&rsquo;re
the hangdest man I ever saw! You wear muffs on your hands. Why in good
thunderation can&rsquo;t you be more easy? I&rsquo;d rather you&rsquo;d stand
off an&rsquo; throw guns at it. Now, go slow, an&rsquo; don&rsquo;t act as if
you was nailing down carpet.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
He glared with insolent command at his friend, but the latter answered
soothingly. &ldquo;Well, well, come now, an&rsquo; git some grub,&rdquo; he
said. &ldquo;Then, maybe, yeh&rsquo;ll feel better.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
At the fireside the loud young soldier watched over his comrade&rsquo;s wants
with tenderness and care. He was very busy marshaling the little black
vagabonds of tin cups and pouring into them the streaming iron colored mixture
from a small and sooty tin pail. He had some fresh meat, which he roasted
hurriedly on a stick. He sat down then and contemplated the youth&rsquo;s
appetite with glee.
</p>

<p>
The youth took note of a remarkable change in his comrade since those days of
camp life upon the river bank. He seemed no more to be continually regarding
the proportions of his personal prowess. He was not furious at small words that
pricked his conceits. He was no more a loud young soldier. There was about him
now a fine reliance. He showed a quiet belief in his purposes and his
abilities. And this inward confidence evidently enabled him to be indifferent
to little words of other men aimed at him.
</p>

<p>
The youth reflected. He had been used to regarding his comrade as a blatant
child with an audacity grown from his inexperience, thoughtless, headstrong,
jealous, and filled with a tinsel courage. A swaggering babe accustomed to
strut in his own dooryard. The youth wondered where had been born these new
eyes; when his comrade had made the great discovery that there were many men
who would refuse to be subjected by him. Apparently, the other had now climbed
a peak of wisdom from which he could perceive himself as a very wee thing. And
the youth saw that ever after it would be easier to live in his friend&rsquo;s
neighborhood.
</p>

<p>
His comrade balanced his ebony coffee-cup on his knee. &ldquo;Well,
Henry,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;what d&rsquo;yeh think th&rsquo; chances are?
D&rsquo;yeh think we&rsquo;ll wallop &rsquo;em?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth considered for a moment. &ldquo;Day-b&rsquo;fore-yesterday,&rdquo; he
finally replied, with boldness, &ldquo;you would &rsquo;a&rsquo; bet
you&rsquo;d lick the hull kit-an&rsquo;-boodle all by yourself.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
His friend looked a trifle amazed. &ldquo;Would I?&rdquo; he asked. He
pondered. &ldquo;Well, perhaps I would,&rdquo; he decided at last. He stared
humbly at the fire.
</p>

<p>
The youth was quite disconcerted at this surprising reception of his remarks.
&ldquo;Oh, no, you wouldn&rsquo;t either,&rdquo; he said, hastily trying to
retrace.
</p>

<p>
But the other made a deprecating gesture. &ldquo;Oh, yeh needn&rsquo;t mind,
Henry,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I believe I was a pretty big fool in those
days.&rdquo; He spoke as after a lapse of years.
</p>

<p>
There was a little pause.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;All th&rsquo; officers say we&rsquo;ve got th&rsquo; rebs in a pretty
tight box,&rdquo; said the friend, clearing his throat in a commonplace way.
&ldquo;They all seem t&rsquo; think we&rsquo;ve got &rsquo;em jest where we
want &rsquo;em.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know about that,&rdquo; the youth replied. &ldquo;What I
seen over on th&rsquo; right makes me think it was th&rsquo; other way about.
From where I was, it looked as if we was gettin&rsquo; a good poundin&rsquo;
yestirday.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;D&rsquo;yeh think so?&rdquo; inquired the friend. &ldquo;I thought we
handled &rsquo;em pretty rough yestirday.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Not a bit,&rdquo; said the youth. &ldquo;Why, lord, man, you
didn&rsquo;t see nothing of the fight. Why!&rdquo; Then a sudden thought came
to him. &ldquo;Oh! Jim Conklin&rsquo;s dead.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
His friend started. &ldquo;What? Is he? Jim Conklin?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth spoke slowly. &ldquo;Yes. He&rsquo;s dead. Shot in th&rsquo;
side.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Yeh don&rsquo;t say so. Jim Conklin. . .poor cuss!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
All about them were other small fires surrounded by men with their little black
utensils. From one of these near came sudden sharp voices in a row. It appeared
that two light-footed soldiers had been teasing a huge, bearded man, causing
him to spill coffee upon his blue knees. The man had gone into a rage and had
sworn comprehensively. Stung by his language, his tormentors had immediately
bristled at him with a great show of resenting unjust oaths. Possibly there was
going to be a fight.
</p>

<p>
The friend arose and went over to them, making pacific motions with his arms.
&ldquo;Oh, here, now, boys, what&rsquo;s th&rsquo; use?&rdquo; he said.
&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll be at th&rsquo; rebs in less&rsquo;n an hour. What&rsquo;s
th&rsquo; good fightin&rsquo; &rsquo;mong ourselves?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
One of the light-footed soldiers turned upon him red-faced and violent.
&ldquo;Yeh needn&rsquo;t come around here with yer preachin&rsquo;. I
s&rsquo;pose yeh don&rsquo;t approve &rsquo;a fightin&rsquo; since Charley
Morgan licked yeh; but I don&rsquo;t see what business this here is &rsquo;a
yours or anybody else.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well, it ain&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said the friend mildly. &ldquo;Still I hate
t&rsquo; see&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
There was a tangled argument.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well, he&mdash;,&rdquo; said the two, indicating their opponent with
accusative forefingers.
</p>

<p>
The huge soldier was quite purple with rage. He pointed at the two soldiers
with his great hand, extended clawlike. &ldquo;Well, they&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
But during this argumentative time the desire to deal blows seemed to pass,
although they said much to each other. Finally the friend returned to his old
seat. In a short while the three antagonists could be seen together in an
amiable bunch.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Jimmie Rogers ses I&rsquo;ll have t&rsquo; fight him after th&rsquo;
battle t&rsquo;-day,&rdquo; announced the friend as he again seated himself.
&ldquo;He ses he don&rsquo;t allow no interferin&rsquo; in his business. I hate
t&rsquo; see th&rsquo; boys fightin&rsquo; &rsquo;mong themselves.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth laughed. &ldquo;Yer changed a good bit. Yeh ain&rsquo;t at all like
yeh was. I remember when you an&rsquo; that Irish feller&mdash;&rdquo; He
stopped and laughed again.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;No, I didn&rsquo;t use t&rsquo; be that way,&rdquo; said his friend
thoughtfully. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s true &rsquo;nough.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well, I didn&rsquo;t mean&mdash;&rdquo; began the youth.
</p>

<p>
The friend made another deprecatory gesture. &ldquo;Oh, yeh needn&rsquo;t mind,
Henry.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
There was another little pause.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Th&rsquo; reg&rsquo;ment lost over half th&rsquo; men yestirday,&rdquo;
remarked the friend eventually. &ldquo;I thought &rsquo;a course they was all
dead, but, laws, they kep&rsquo; a-comin&rsquo; back last night until it seems,
after all, we didn&rsquo;t lose but a few. They&rsquo;d been scattered all
over, wanderin&rsquo; around in th&rsquo; woods, fightin&rsquo; with other
reg&rsquo;ments, an&rsquo; everything. Jest like you done.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;So?&rdquo; said the youth.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap15"></a>Chapter XV.</h2>

<p>
The regiment was standing at order arms at the side of a lane, waiting for the
command to march, when suddenly the youth remembered the little packet
enwrapped in a faded yellow envelope which the loud young soldier with
lugubrious words had intrusted to him. It made him start. He uttered an
exclamation and turned toward his comrade.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Wilson!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;What?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
His friend, at his side in the ranks, was thoughtfully staring down the road.
From some cause his expression was at that moment very meek. The youth,
regarding him with sidelong glances, felt impelled to change his purpose.
&ldquo;Oh, nothing,&rdquo; he said.
</p>

<p>
His friend turned his head in some surprise, &ldquo;Why, what was yeh
goin&rsquo; t&rsquo; say?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh, nothing,&rdquo; repeated the youth.
</p>

<p>
He resolved not to deal the little blow. It was sufficient that the fact made
him glad. It was not necessary to knock his friend on the head with the
misguided packet.
</p>

<p>
He had been possessed of much fear of his friend, for he saw how easily
questionings could make holes in his feelings. Lately, he had assured himself
that the altered comrade would not tantalize him with a persistent curiosity,
but he felt certain that during the first period of leisure his friend would
ask him to relate his adventures of the previous day.
</p>

<p>
He now rejoiced in the possession of a small weapon with which he could
prostrate his comrade at the first signs of a cross-examination. He was master.
It would now be he who could laugh and shoot the shafts of derision.
</p>

<p>
The friend had, in a weak hour, spoken with sobs of his own death. He had
delivered a melancholy oration previous to his funeral, and had doubtless in
the packet of letters, presented various keepsakes to relatives. But he had not
died, and thus he had delivered himself into the hands of the youth.
</p>

<p>
The latter felt immensely superior to his friend, but he inclined to
condescension. He adopted toward him an air of patronizing good humor.
</p>

<p>
His self-pride was now entirely restored. In the shade of its flourishing
growth he stood with braced and self-confident legs, and since nothing could
now be discovered he did not shrink from an encounter with the eyes of judges,
and allowed no thoughts of his own to keep him from an attitude of manfulness.
He had performed his mistakes in the dark, so he was still a man.
</p>

<p>
Indeed, when he remembered his fortunes of yesterday, and looked at them from a
distance he began to see something fine there. He had license to be pompous and
veteranlike.
</p>

<p>
His panting agonies of the past he put out of his sight.
</p>

<p>
In the present, he declared to himself that it was only the doomed and the
damned who roared with sincerity at circumstance. Few but they ever did it. A
man with a full stomach and the respect of his fellows had no business to scold
about anything that he might think to be wrong in the ways of the universe, or
even with the ways of society. Let the unfortunates rail; the others may play
marbles.
</p>

<p>
He did not give a great deal of thought to these battles that lay directly
before him. It was not essential that he should plan his ways in regard to
them. He had been taught that many obligations of a life were easily avoided.
The lessons of yesterday had been that retribution was a laggard and blind.
With these facts before him he did not deem it necessary that he should become
feverish over the possibilities of the ensuing twenty-four hours. He could
leave much to chance. Besides, a faith in himself had secretly blossomed. There
was a little flower of confidence growing within him. He was now a man of
experience. He had been out among the dragons, he said, and he assured himself
that they were not so hideous as he had imagined them. Also, they were
inaccurate; they did not sting with precision. A stout heart often defied, and
defying, escaped.
</p>

<p>
And, furthermore, how could they kill him who was the chosen of gods and doomed
to greatness?
</p>

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

<p>
He was aroused from this reverie by his friend, who, having hitched about
nervously and blinked at the trees for a time, suddenly coughed in an
introductory way, and spoke.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Fleming!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;What?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The friend put his hand up to his mouth and coughed again. He fidgeted in his
jacket.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he gulped at last, &ldquo;I guess yeh might as well give me
back them letters.&rdquo; Dark, prickling blood had flushed into his cheeks and
brow.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;All right, Wilson,&rdquo; said the youth. He loosened two buttons of his
coat, thrust in his hand, and brought forth the packet. As he extended it to
his friend the latter&rsquo;s face was turned from him.
</p>

<p>
He had been slow in the act of producing the packet because during it he had
been trying to invent a remarkable comment on the affair. He could conjure up
nothing of sufficient point. He was compelled to allow his friend to escape
unmolested with his packet. And for this he took unto himself considerable
credit. It was a generous thing.
</p>

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

<p>
He reflected, with condescending pity: &ldquo;Too bad! Too bad! The poor devil,
it makes him feel tough!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
After this incident, and as he reviewed the battle pictures he had seen, he
felt quite competent to return home and make the hearts of the people glow with
stories of war. He could see himself in a room of warm tints telling tales to
listeners. He could exhibit laurels. They were insignificant; still, in a
district where laurels were infrequent, they might shine.
</p>

<p>
He saw his gaping audience picturing him as the central figure in blazing
scenes. And he imagined the consternation and the ejaculations of his mother
and the young lady at the seminary as they drank his recitals. Their vague
feminine formula for beloved ones doing brave deeds on the field of battle
without risk of life would be destroyed.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap16"></a>Chapter XVI.</h2>

<p>
A sputtering of musketry was always to be heard. Later, the cannon had entered
the dispute. In the fog-filled air their voices made a thudding sound. The
reverberations were continual. This part of the world led a strange, battleful
existence.
</p>

<p>
The youth&rsquo;s regiment was marched to relieve a command that had lain long
in some damp trenches. The men took positions behind a curving line of rifle
pits that had been turned up, like a large furrow, along the line of woods.
Before them was a level stretch, peopled with short, deformed stumps. From the
woods beyond came the dull popping of the skirmishers and pickets, firing in
the fog. From the right came the noise of a terrific fracas.
</p>

<p>
The men cuddled behind the small embankment and sat in easy attitudes awaiting
their turn. Many had their backs to the firing. The youth&rsquo;s friend lay
down, buried his face in his arms, and almost instantly, it seemed, he was in a
deep sleep.
</p>

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

<p>
Always the noise of skirmishers came from the woods on the front and left, and
the din on the right had grown to frightful proportions. The guns were roaring
without an instant&rsquo;s pause for breath. It seemed that the cannon had come
from all parts and were engaged in a stupendous wrangle. It became impossible
to make a sentence heard.
</p>

<p>
The youth wished to launch a joke&mdash;a quotation from newspapers. He desired
to say, &ldquo;All quiet on the Rappahannock,&rdquo; but the guns refused to
permit even a comment upon their uproar. He never successfully concluded the
sentence. But at last the guns stopped, and among the men in the rifle pits
rumors again flew, like birds, but they were now for the most part black
creatures who flapped their wings drearily near to the ground and refused to
rise on any wings of hope. The men&rsquo;s faces grew doleful from the
interpreting of omens. Tales of hesitation and uncertainty on the part of those
high in place and responsibility came to their ears. Stories of disaster were
borne into their minds with many proofs. This din of musketry on the right,
growing like a released genie of sound, expressed and emphasized the
army&rsquo;s plight.
</p>

<p>
The men were disheartened and began to mutter. They made gestures expressive of
the sentence: &ldquo;Ah, what more can we do?&rdquo; And it could always be
seen that they were bewildered by the alleged news and could not fully
comprehend a defeat.
</p>

<p>
Before the gray mists had been totally obliterated by the sun rays, the
regiment was marching in a spread column that was retiring carefully through
the woods. The disordered, hurrying lines of the enemy could sometimes be seen
down through the groves and little fields. They were yelling, shrill and
exultant.
</p>

<p>
At this sight the youth forgot many personal matters and became greatly
enraged. He exploded in loud sentences. &ldquo;B&rsquo;jiminey, we&rsquo;re
generaled by a lot &rsquo;a lunkheads.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;More than one feller has said that t&rsquo;-day,&rdquo; observed a man.
</p>

<p>
His friend, recently aroused, was still very drowsy. He looked behind him until
his mind took in the meaning of the movement. Then he sighed. &ldquo;Oh, well,
I s&rsquo;pose we got licked,&rdquo; he remarked sadly.
</p>

<p>
The youth had a thought that it would not be handsome for him to freely condemn
other men. He made an attempt to restrain himself, but the words upon his
tongue were too bitter. He presently began a long and intricate denunciation of
the commander of the forces.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Mebbe, it wa&rsquo;n&rsquo;t all his fault&mdash;not all together. He
did th&rsquo; best he knowed. It&rsquo;s our luck t&rsquo; git licked
often,&rdquo; said his friend in a weary tone. He was trudging along with
stooped shoulders and shifting eyes like a man who has been caned and kicked.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well, don&rsquo;t we fight like the devil? Don&rsquo;t we do all that
men can?&rdquo; demanded the youth loudly.
</p>

<p>
He was secretly dumfounded at this sentiment when it came from his lips. For a
moment his face lost its valor and he looked guiltily about him. But no one
questioned his right to deal in such words, and presently he recovered his air
of courage. He went on to repeat a statement he had heard going from group to
group at the camp that morning. &ldquo;The brigadier said he never saw a new
reg&rsquo;ment fight the way we fought yestirday, didn&rsquo;t he? And we
didn&rsquo;t do better than many another reg&rsquo;ment, did we? Well, then,
you can&rsquo;t say it&rsquo;s th&rsquo; army&rsquo;s fault, can you?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
In his reply, the friend&rsquo;s voice was stern. &ldquo;&rsquo;A course
not,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;No man dare say we don&rsquo;t fight like th&rsquo;
devil. No man will ever dare say it. Th&rsquo; boys fight like hell-roosters.
But still&mdash;still, we don&rsquo;t have no luck.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well, then, if we fight like the devil an&rsquo; don&rsquo;t ever whip,
it must be the general&rsquo;s fault,&rdquo; said the youth grandly and
decisively. &ldquo;And I don&rsquo;t see any sense in fighting and fighting and
fighting, yet always losing through some derned old lunkhead of a
general.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
A sarcastic man who was tramping at the youth&rsquo;s side, then spoke lazily.
&ldquo;Mebbe yeh think yeh fit th&rsquo; hull battle yestirday, Fleming,&rdquo;
he remarked.
</p>

<p>
The speech pierced the youth. Inwardly he was reduced to an abject pulp by
these chance words. His legs quaked privately. He cast a frightened glance at
the sarcastic man.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Why, no,&rdquo; he hastened to say in a conciliating voice &ldquo;I
don&rsquo;t think I fought the whole battle yesterday.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
But the other seemed innocent of any deeper meaning. Apparently, he had no
information. It was merely his habit. &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; he replied in the same
tone of calm derision.
</p>

<p>
The youth, nevertheless, felt a threat. His mind shrank from going near to the
danger, and thereafter he was silent. The significance of the sarcastic
man&rsquo;s words took from him all loud moods that would make him appear
prominent. He became suddenly a modest person.
</p>

<p>
There was low-toned talk among the troops. The officers were impatient and
snappy, their countenances clouded with the tales of misfortune. The troops,
sifting through the forest, were sullen. In the youth&rsquo;s company once a
man&rsquo;s laugh rang out. A dozen soldiers turned their faces quickly toward
him and frowned with vague displeasure.
</p>

<p>
The noise of firing dogged their footsteps. Sometimes, it seemed to be driven a
little way, but it always returned again with increased insolence. The men
muttered and cursed, throwing black looks in its direction.
</p>

<p>
In a clear space the troops were at last halted. Regiments and brigades, broken
and detached through their encounters with thickets, grew together again and
lines were faced toward the pursuing bark of the enemy&rsquo;s infantry.
</p>

<p>
This noise, following like the yelpings of eager, metallic hounds, increased to
a loud and joyous burst, and then, as the sun went serenely up the sky,
throwing illuminating rays into the gloomy thickets, it broke forth into
prolonged pealings. The woods began to crackle as if afire.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Whoop-a-dadee,&rdquo; said a man, &ldquo;here we are! Everybody
fightin&rsquo;. Blood an&rsquo; destruction.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;I was willin&rsquo; t&rsquo; bet they&rsquo;d attack as soon as
th&rsquo; sun got fairly up,&rdquo; savagely asserted the lieutenant who
commanded the youth&rsquo;s company. He jerked without mercy at his little
mustache. He strode to and fro with dark dignity in the rear of his men, who
were lying down behind whatever protection they had collected.
</p>

<p>
A battery had trundled into position in the rear and was thoughtfully shelling
the distance. The regiment, unmolested as yet, awaited the moment when the gray
shadows of the woods before them should be slashed by the lines of flame. There
was much growling and swearing.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Good Gawd,&rdquo; the youth grumbled, &ldquo;we&rsquo;re always being
chased around like rats! It makes me sick. Nobody seems to know where we go or
why we go. We just get fired around from pillar to post and get licked here and
get licked there, and nobody knows what it&rsquo;s done for. It makes a man
feel like a damn&rsquo; kitten in a bag. Now, I&rsquo;d like to know what the
eternal thunders we was marched into these woods for anyhow, unless it was to
give the rebs a regular pot shot at us. We came in here and got our legs all
tangled up in these cussed briers, and then we begin to fight and the rebs had
an easy time of it. Don&rsquo;t tell me it&rsquo;s just luck! I know better.
It&rsquo;s this derned old&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The friend seemed jaded, but he interrupted his comrade with a voice of calm
confidence. &ldquo;It&rsquo;ll turn out all right in th&rsquo; end,&rdquo; he
said.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh, the devil it will! You always talk like a dog-hanged parson.
Don&rsquo;t tell me! I know&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
At this time there was an interposition by the savage-minded lieutenant, who
was obliged to vent some of his inward dissatisfaction upon his men. &ldquo;You
boys shut right up! There no need &rsquo;a your wastin&rsquo; your breath in
long-winded arguments about this an&rsquo; that an&rsquo; th&rsquo; other.
You&rsquo;ve been jawin&rsquo; like a lot &rsquo;a old hens. All you&rsquo;ve
got t&rsquo; do is to fight, an&rsquo; you&rsquo;ll get plenty &rsquo;a that
t&rsquo; do in about ten minutes. Less talkin&rsquo; an&rsquo; more
fightin&rsquo; is what&rsquo;s best for you boys. I never saw sech gabbling
jackasses.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
He paused, ready to pounce upon any man who might have the temerity to reply.
No words being said, he resumed his dignified pacing.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;There&rsquo;s too much chin music an&rsquo; too little fightin&rsquo; in
this war, anyhow,&rdquo; he said to them, turning his head for a final remark.
</p>

<p>
The day had grown more white, until the sun shed his full radiance upon the
thronged forest. A sort of a gust of battle came sweeping toward that part of
the line where lay the youth&rsquo;s regiment. The front shifted a trifle to
meet it squarely. There was a wait. In this part of the field there passed
slowly the intense moments that precede the tempest.
</p>

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

<p>
In the regiment there was a peculiar kind of hesitation denoted in the
attitudes of the men. They were worn, exhausted, having slept but little and
labored much. They rolled their eyes toward the advancing battle as they stood
awaiting the shock. Some shrank and flinched. They stood as men tied to stakes.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap17"></a>Chapter XVII.</h2>

<p>
This advance of the enemy had seemed to the youth like a ruthless hunting. He
began to fume with rage and exasperation. He beat his foot upon the ground, and
scowled with hate at the swirling smoke that was approaching like a phantom
flood. There was a maddening quality in this seeming resolution of the foe to
give him no rest, to give him no time to sit down and think. Yesterday he had
fought and had fled rapidly. There had been many adventures. For to-day he felt
that he had earned opportunities for contemplative repose. He could have
enjoyed portraying to uninitiated listeners various scenes at which he had been
a witness or ably discussing the processes of war with other proved men. Too it
was important that he should have time for physical recuperation. He was sore
and stiff from his experiences. He had received his fill of all exertions, and
he wished to rest.
</p>

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

<p>
He leaned and spoke into his friend&rsquo;s ear. He menaced the woods with a
gesture. &ldquo;If they keep on chasing us, by Gawd, they&rsquo;d better watch
out. Can&rsquo;t stand <i>too</i> much.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The friend twisted his head and made a calm reply. &ldquo;If they keep on
a-chasin&rsquo; us they&rsquo;ll drive us all inteh th&rsquo; river.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth cried out savagely at this statement. He crouched behind a little
tree, with his eyes burning hatefully and his teeth set in a cur-like snarl. The
awkward bandage was still about his head, and upon it, over his wound, there
was a spot of dry blood. His hair was wondrously tousled, and some straggling,
moving locks hung over the cloth of the bandage down toward his forehead. His
jacket and shirt were open at the throat, and exposed his young bronzed neck.
There could be seen spasmodic gulpings at his throat.
</p>

<p>
His fingers twined nervously about his rifle. He wished that it was an engine
of annihilating power. He felt that he and his companions were being taunted
and derided from sincere convictions that they were poor and puny. His
knowledge of his inability to take vengeance for it made his rage into a dark
and stormy specter, that possessed him and made him dream of abominable
cruelties. The tormentors were flies sucking insolently at his blood, and he
thought that he would have given his life for a revenge of seeing their faces
in pitiful plights.
</p>

<p>
The winds of battle had swept all about the regiment, until the one rifle,
instantly followed by others, flashed in its front. A moment later the regiment
roared forth its sudden and valiant retort. A dense wall of smoke settled down.
It was furiously slit and slashed by the knifelike fire from the rifles.
</p>

<p>
To the youth the fighters resembled animals tossed for a death struggle into a
dark pit. There was a sensation that he and his fellows, at bay, were pushing
back, always pushing fierce onslaughts of creatures who were slippery. Their
beams of crimson seemed to get no purchase upon the bodies of their foes; the
latter seemed to evade them with ease, and come through, between, around, and
about with unopposed skill.
</p>

<p>
When, in a dream, it occurred to the youth that his rifle was an impotent
stick, he lost sense of everything but his hate, his desire to smash into pulp
the glittering smile of victory which he could feel upon the faces of his
enemies.
</p>

<p>
The blue smoke-swallowed line curled and writhed like a snake stepped upon. It
swung its ends to and fro in an agony of fear and rage.
</p>

<p>
The youth was not conscious that he was erect upon his feet. He did not know
the direction of the ground. Indeed, once he even lost the habit of balance and
fell heavily. He was up again immediately. One thought went through the chaos
of his brain at the time. He wondered if he had fallen because he had been
shot. But the suspicion flew away at once. He did not think more of it.
</p>

<p>
He had taken up a first position behind the little tree, with a direct
determination to hold it against the world. He had not deemed it possible that
his army could that day succeed, and from this he felt the ability to fight
harder. But the throng had surged in all ways, until he lost directions and
locations, save that he knew where lay the enemy.
</p>

<p>
The flames bit him, and the hot smoke broiled his skin. His rifle barrel grew
so hot that ordinarily he could not have borne it upon his palms; but he kept
on stuffing cartridges into it, and pounding them with his clanking, bending
ramrod. If he aimed at some changing form through the smoke, he pulled the
trigger with a fierce grunt, as if he were dealing a blow of the fist with all
his strength.
</p>

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

<p>
Once he, in his intent hate, was almost alone, and was firing, when all those
near him had ceased. He was so engrossed in his occupation that he was not
aware of a lull.
</p>

<p>
He was recalled by a hoarse laugh and a sentence that came to his ears in a
voice of contempt and amazement. &ldquo;Yeh infernal fool, don&rsquo;t yeh know
enough t&rsquo; quit when there ain&rsquo;t anything t&rsquo; shoot at? Good
Gawd!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
He turned then and, pausing with his rifle thrown half into position, looked at
the blue line of his comrades. During this moment of leisure they seemed all to
be engaged in staring with astonishment at him. They had become spectators.
Turning to the front again he saw, under the lifted smoke, a deserted ground.
</p>

<p>
He looked bewildered for a moment. Then there appeared upon the glazed vacancy
of his eyes a diamond point of intelligence. &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; he said,
comprehending.
</p>

<p>
He returned to his comrades and threw himself upon the ground. He sprawled like
a man who had been thrashed. His flesh seemed strangely on fire, and the sounds
of the battle continued in his ears. He groped blindly for his canteen.
</p>

<p>
The lieutenant was crowing. He seemed drunk with fighting. He called out to the
youth: &ldquo;By heavens, if I had ten thousand wild cats like you I could tear
th&rsquo; stomach outa this war in less&rsquo;n a week!&rdquo; He puffed out
his chest with large dignity as he said it.
</p>

<p>
Some of the men muttered and looked at the youth in awestruck ways. It was
plain that as he had gone on loading and firing and cursing without proper
intermission, they had found time to regard him. And they now looked upon him
as a war devil.
</p>

<p>
The friend came staggering to him. There was some fright and dismay in his
voice. &ldquo;Are yeh all right, Fleming? Do yeh feel all right? There
ain&rsquo;t nothin&rsquo; th&rsquo; matter with yeh, Henry, is there?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the youth with difficulty. His throat seemed full of
knobs and burrs.
</p>

<p>
These incidents made the youth ponder. It was revealed to him that he had been
a barbarian, a beast. He had fought like a pagan who defends his religion.
Regarding it, he saw that it was fine, wild, and, in some ways, easy. He had
been a tremendous figure, no doubt. By this struggle he had overcome obstacles
which he had admitted to be mountains. They had fallen like paper peaks, and he
was now what he called a hero. And he had not been aware of the process. He had
slept, and, awakening, found himself a knight.
</p>

<p>
He lay and basked in the occasional stares of his comrades. Their faces were
varied in degrees of blackness from the burned powder. Some were utterly
smudged. They were reeking with perspiration, and their breaths came hard and
wheezing. And from these soiled expanses they peered at him.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Hot work! Hot work!&rdquo; cried the lieutenant deliriously. He walked
up and down, restless and eager. Sometimes his voice could be heard in a wild,
incomprehensible laugh.
</p>

<p>
When he had a particularly profound thought upon the science of war he always
unconsciously addressed himself to the youth.
</p>

<p>
There was some grim rejoicing by the men. &ldquo;By thunder, I bet this
army&rsquo;ll never see another new reg&rsquo;ment like us!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;You bet!&rdquo;
</p>

<p class="poem">
&ldquo;A dog, a woman, an&rsquo; a walnut tree<br>
Th&rsquo; more yeh beat &rsquo;em, th&rsquo; better they be!
</p>

<p class="noindent">
That&rsquo;s like us.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Lost a piler men, they did. If an ol&rsquo; woman swep&rsquo; up
th&rsquo; woods she&rsquo;d git a dustpanful.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Yes, an&rsquo; if she&rsquo;ll come around ag&rsquo;in in &rsquo;bout an
hour she&rsquo;ll get a pile more.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The forest still bore its burden of clamor. From off under the trees came the
rolling clatter of the musketry. Each distant thicket seemed a strange
porcupine with quills of flame. A cloud of dark smoke, as from smoldering
ruins, went up toward the sun now bright and gay in the blue, enameled sky.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap18"></a>Chapter XVIII.</h2>

<p>
The ragged line had respite for some minutes, but during its pause the struggle
in the forest became magnified until the trees seemed to quiver from the firing
and the ground to shake from the rushing of 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 the men strained for a bit of freshness, and their
throats craved water.
</p>

<p>
There was one shot through the body, who raised a cry of bitter lamentation
when came this lull. Perhaps he had been calling out during the fighting also,
but at that time no one had heard him. But now the men turned at the woeful
complaints of him upon the ground.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Who is it? Who is it?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Its Jimmie Rogers. Jimmie Rogers.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
When their eyes first encountered him there was a sudden halt, as if they
feared to go near. He was thrashing about in the grass, twisting his shuddering
body into many strange postures. He was screaming loudly. This instant&rsquo;s
hesitation seemed to fill him with a tremendous, fantastic contempt, and he
damned them in shrieked sentences.
</p>

<p>
The youth&rsquo;s friend had a geographical illusion concerning a stream, and
he obtained permission to go for some water. Immediately canteens were showered
upon him. &ldquo;Fill mine, will yeh?&rdquo; &ldquo;Bring me some, too.&rdquo;
&ldquo;And me, too.&rdquo; He departed, ladened. The youth went with his
friend, feeling a desire to throw his heated body into the stream and, soaking
there, drink quarts.
</p>

<p>
They made a hurried search for the supposed stream, but did not find it.
&ldquo;No water here,&rdquo; said the youth. They turned without delay and
began to retrace their steps.
</p>

<p>
From their position as they again faced toward the place of the fighting, they
could comprehend a greater amount of the battle than when their visions had
been blurred by the hurling smoke of the line. They could see dark stretches
winding along the land, and on one cleared space there was a row of guns making
gray clouds, which were filled with large flashes of orange-colored flame. Over
some foliage they could see the roof of a house. One window, glowing a deep
murder red, shone squarely through the leaves. From the edifice a tall leaning
tower of smoke went far into the sky.
</p>

<p>
Looking over their own troops, they saw mixed masses slowly getting into
regular form. The sunlight made twinkling points of the bright steel. To the
rear there was a glimpse of a distant roadway as it curved over a slope. It was
crowded with retreating infantry. From all the interwoven forest arose the
smoke and bluster of the battle. The air was always occupied by a blaring.
</p>

<p>
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.
</p>

<p>
Looking down an aisle of the grove, the youth and his companion saw a jangling
general and his staff almost ride upon a wounded man, who was crawling on his
hands and knees. The general reined strongly at his charger&rsquo;s opened and
foamy mouth and guided it with dexterous horsemanship past the man. The latter
scrambled in wild and torturing haste. His strength evidently failed him as he
reached a place of safety. One of his arms suddenly weakened, and he fell,
sliding over upon his back. He lay stretched out, breathing gently.
</p>

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

<p>
The general, whom the boys knew as the commander of their division, looked at
the other officer and spoke coolly, as if he were criticising his clothes.
&ldquo;Th&rsquo; enemy&rsquo;s formin&rsquo; over there for another
charge,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It&rsquo;ll be directed against Whiterside,
an&rsquo; I fear they&rsquo;ll break through unless we work like thunder
t&rsquo; stop them.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The other swore at his restive horse, and then cleared his throat. He made a
gesture toward his cap. &ldquo;It&rsquo;ll be hell t&rsquo; pay stoppin&rsquo;
them,&rdquo; he said shortly.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;I presume so,&rdquo; remarked the general. Then he began to talk rapidly
and in a lower tone. He frequently illustrated his words with a pointing
finger. The two infantrymen could hear nothing until finally he asked:
&ldquo;What troops can you spare?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The officer who rode like a cowboy reflected for an instant.
&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I had to order in th&rsquo; 12th to help
th&rsquo; 76th, an&rsquo; I haven&rsquo;t really got any. But there&rsquo;s
th&rsquo; 304th. They fight like a lot &rsquo;a mule drivers. I can spare them
best of any.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth and his friend exchanged glances of astonishment.
</p>

<p>
The general spoke sharply. &ldquo;Get &rsquo;em ready, then. I&rsquo;ll watch
developments from here, an&rsquo; send you word when t&rsquo; start them.
It&rsquo;ll happen in five minutes.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
As the other officer tossed his fingers toward his cap and wheeling his horse,
started away, the general called out to him in a sober voice: &ldquo;I
don&rsquo;t believe many of your mule drivers will get back.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The other shouted something in reply. He smiled.
</p>

<p>
With scared faces, the youth and his companion hurried back to the line.
</p>

<p>
These happenings had occupied an incredibly short time, yet the youth felt that
in them he had been made aged. New eyes were given to him. And the most
startling thing was to learn suddenly that he was very insignificant. The
officer spoke of the regiment as if he referred to a broom. Some part of the
woods needed sweeping, perhaps, and he merely indicated a broom in a tone
properly indifferent to its fate. It was war, no doubt, but it appeared
strange.
</p>

<p>
As the two boys approached the line, the lieutenant perceived them and swelled
with wrath. &ldquo;Fleming&mdash;Wilson&mdash;how long does it take yeh to git
water, anyhow&mdash;where yeh been to.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
But his oration ceased as he saw their eyes, which were large with great tales.
&ldquo;We&rsquo;re goin&rsquo; t&rsquo; charge&mdash;we&rsquo;re goin&rsquo;
t&rsquo; charge!&rdquo; cried the youth&rsquo;s friend, hastening with his
news.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Charge?&rdquo; said the lieutenant. &ldquo;Charge? Well, b&rsquo;Gawd!
Now, this is real fightin&rsquo;.&rdquo; Over his soiled countenance there went
a boastful smile. &ldquo;Charge? Well, b&rsquo;Gawd!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
A little group of soldiers surrounded the two youths. &ldquo;Are we, sure
&rsquo;nough? Well, I&rsquo;ll be derned! Charge? What fer? What at? Wilson,
you&rsquo;re lyin&rsquo;.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;I hope to die,&rdquo; said the youth, pitching his tones to the key of
angry remonstrance. &ldquo;Sure as shooting, I tell you.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
And his friend spoke in re-enforcement. &ldquo;Not by a blame sight, he
ain&rsquo;t lyin&rsquo;. We heard &rsquo;em talkin&rsquo;.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
They caught sight of two mounted figures a short distance from them. One was
the colonel of the regiment and the other was the officer who had received
orders from the commander of the division. They were gesticulating at each
other. The soldier, pointing at them, interpreted the scene.
</p>

<p>
One man had a final objection: &ldquo;How could yeh hear &rsquo;em
talkin&rsquo;?&rdquo; But the men, for a large part, nodded, admitting that
previously the two friends had spoken truth.
</p>

<p>
They settled back into reposeful attitudes with airs of having accepted the
matter. And they mused upon it, with a hundred varieties of expression. It was
an engrossing thing to think about. Many tightened their belts carefully and
hitched at their trousers.
</p>

<p>
A moment later the officers began to bustle among the men, pushing them into a
more compact mass and into a better alignment. They chased those that straggled
and fumed at a few men who seemed to show by their attitudes that they had
decided to remain at that spot. They were like critical shepherds, struggling
with sheep.
</p>

<p>
Presently, the regiment seemed to draw itself up and heave a deep breath. None
of the men&rsquo;s faces were mirrors of large thoughts. The soldiers were
bended and stooped like sprinters before a signal. Many pairs of glinting eyes
peered from the grimy faces toward the curtains of the deeper woods. They
seemed to be engaged in deep calculations of time and distance.
</p>

<p>
They were surrounded by the noises of the monstrous altercation between the two
armies. The world was fully interested in other matters. Apparently, the
regiment had its small affair to itself.
</p>

<p>
The youth, turning, shot a quick, inquiring glance at his friend. The latter
returned to him the same manner of look. They were the only ones who possessed
an inner knowledge. &ldquo;Mule drivers&mdash;hell t&rsquo;
pay&mdash;don&rsquo;t believe many will get back.&rdquo; It was an ironical
secret. Still, they saw no hesitation in each other&rsquo;s faces, and they
nodded a mute and unprotesting assent when a shaggy man near them said in a
meek voice: &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll git swallowed.&rdquo;
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap19"></a>Chapter XIX.</h2>

<p>
The youth stared at the land in front of him. Its foliages now seemed to veil
powers and horrors. He was unaware of the machinery of orders that started the
charge, although from the corners of his eyes he saw an officer, who looked
like a boy a-horseback, come galloping, waving his hat. Suddenly he felt a
straining and heaving among the men. The line fell slowly forward like a
toppling wall, and, with a convulsive gasp that was intended for a cheer, the
regiment began its journey. The youth was pushed and jostled for a moment
before he understood the movement at all, but directly he lunged ahead and
began to run.
</p>

<p>
He fixed his eye upon a distant and prominent clump of trees where he had
concluded the enemy were to be met, and he ran toward it as toward a goal. He
had believed throughout that it was a mere question of getting over an
unpleasant matter as quickly as possible, and he ran desperately, as if pursued
for a murder. His face was drawn hard and tight with the stress of his
endeavor. His eyes were fixed in a lurid glare. And with his soiled and
disordered dress, his red and inflamed features surmounted by the dingy rag
with its spot of blood, his wildly swinging rifle, and banging accouterments,
he looked to be an insane soldier.
</p>

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

<p>
The line lurched straight for a moment. Then the right wing swung forward; it
in turn was surpassed by the left. Afterward the center careered to the front
until the regiment was a wedge-shaped mass, but an instant later the opposition
of the bushes, trees, and uneven places on the ground split the command and
scattered it into detached clusters.
</p>

<p>
The youth, light-footed, was unconsciously in advance. His eyes still kept note
of the clump of trees. From all places near it the clannish yell of the enemy
could be heard. The little flames of rifles leaped from it. The song of the
bullets was in the air and shells snarled among the treetops. One tumbled
directly into the middle of a hurrying group and exploded in crimson fury.
There was an instant spectacle of a man, almost over it, throwing up his hands
to shield his eyes.
</p>

<p>
Other men, punched by bullets, fell in grotesque agonies. The regiment left a
coherent trail of bodies.
</p>

<p>
They had passed into a clearer atmosphere. There was an effect like a
revelation in the new appearance of the landscape. Some men working madly at a
battery were plain to them, and the opposing infantry&rsquo;s lines were
defined by the gray walls and fringes of smoke.
</p>

<p>
It seemed to the youth that he saw everything. Each blade of the green grass
was bold and clear. He thought that he was aware of every change in the thin,
transparent vapor that floated idly in sheets. The brown or gray trunks of the
trees showed each roughness of their surfaces. And the men of the regiment,
with their starting eyes and sweating faces, running madly, or falling, as if
thrown headlong, to queer, heaped-up corpses&mdash;all were comprehended. His
mind took a mechanical but firm impression, so that afterward everything was
pictured and explained to him, save why he himself was there.
</p>

<p>
But there was a frenzy made from this furious rush. The men, pitching forward
insanely, had burst into cheerings, moblike and barbaric, but tuned in strange
keys that can arouse the dullard and the stoic. It made a mad enthusiasm that,
it seemed, would be incapable of checking itself before granite and brass.
There was the delirium that encounters despair and death, and is heedless and
blind to the odds. It is a temporary but sublime absence of selfishness. And
because it was of this order was the reason, perhaps, why the youth wondered,
afterward, what reasons he could have had for being there.
</p>

<p>
Presently the straining pace ate up the energies of the men. As if by
agreement, the leaders began to slacken their speed. The volleys directed
against them had had a seeming windlike effect. The regiment snorted and blew.
Among some stolid trees it began to falter and hesitate. The men, staring
intently, began to wait for some of the distant walls of smoke to move and
disclose to them the scene. Since much of their strength and their breath had
vanished, they returned to caution. They were become men again.
</p>

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

<p>
The moment the regiment ceased its advance the protesting splutter of musketry
became a steadied roar. Long and accurate fringes of smoke spread out. From the
top of a small hill came level belchings of yellow flame that caused an inhuman
whistling in the air.
</p>

<p>
The men, halted, had opportunity to see some of their comrades dropping with
moans and shrieks. A few lay under foot, still or wailing. And now for an
instant the men stood, their rifles slack in their hands, and watched the
regiment dwindle. They appeared dazed and stupid. This spectacle seemed to
paralyze them, overcome them with a fatal fascination. They stared woodenly at
the sights, and, lowering their eyes, looked from face to face. It was a
strange pause, and a strange silence.
</p>

<p>
Then, above the sounds of the outside commotion, arose the roar of the
lieutenant. He strode suddenly forth, his infantile features black with rage.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Come on, yeh fools!&rdquo; he bellowed. &ldquo;Come on! Yeh can&rsquo;t
stay here. Yeh must come on.&rdquo; He said more, but much of it could not be
understood.
</p>

<p>
He started rapidly forward, with his head turned toward the men, &ldquo;Come
on,&rdquo; he was shouting. The men stared with blank and yokel-like eyes at
him. He was obliged to halt and retrace his steps. He stood then with his back
to the enemy and delivered gigantic curses into the faces of the men. His body
vibrated from the weight and force of his imprecations. And he could string
oaths with the facility of a maiden who strings beads.
</p>

<p>
The friend of the youth aroused. Lurching suddenly forward and dropping to his
knees, he fired an angry shot at the persistent woods. This action awakened the
men. They huddled no more like sheep. They seemed suddenly to bethink
themselves of their weapons, and at once commenced firing. Belabored by their
officers, they began to move forward. The regiment, involved like a cart
involved in mud and muddle, started unevenly with many jolts and jerks. The men
stopped now every few paces to fire and load, and in this manner moved slowly
on from trees to trees.
</p>

<p>
The flaming opposition in their front grew with their advance until it seemed
that all forward ways were barred by the thin leaping tongues, and off to the
right an ominous demonstration could sometimes be dimly discerned. The smoke
lately generated was in confusing clouds that made it difficult for the
regiment to proceed with intelligence. As he passed through each curling mass
the youth wondered what would confront him on the farther side.
</p>

<p>
The command went painfully forward until an open space interposed between them
and the lurid lines. Here, crouching and cowering behind some trees, the men
clung with desperation, as if threatened by a wave. They looked wild-eyed, and
as if amazed at this furious disturbance they had stirred. In the storm there
was an ironical expression of their importance. The faces of the men, too,
showed a lack of a certain feeling of responsibility for being there. It was as
if they had been driven. It was the dominant animal failing to remember in the
supreme moments the forceful causes of various superficial qualities. The whole
affair seemed incomprehensible to many of them.
</p>

<p>
As they halted thus the lieutenant again began to bellow profanely. Regardless
of the vindictive threats of the bullets, he went about coaxing, berating, and
bedamning. His lips, that were habitually in a soft and childlike curve, were
now writhed into unholy contortions. He swore by all possible deities.
</p>

<p>
Once he grabbed the youth by the arm. &ldquo;Come on, yeh lunkhead!&rdquo; he
roared. &ldquo;Come on! We&rsquo;ll all git killed if we stay here. We&rsquo;ve
on&rsquo;y got t&rsquo; go across that lot. An&rsquo; then&rdquo;&mdash;the
remainder of his idea disappeared in a blue haze of curses.
</p>

<p>
The youth stretched forth his arm. &ldquo;Cross there?&rdquo; His mouth was
puckered in doubt and awe.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Certainly. Jest &rsquo;cross th&rsquo; lot! We can&rsquo;t stay
here,&rdquo; screamed the lieutenant. He poked his face close to the youth and
waved his bandaged hand. &ldquo;Come on!&rdquo; Presently he grappled with him
as if for a wrestling bout. It was as if he planned to drag the youth by the
ear on to the assault.
</p>

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

<p>
&ldquo;Come on yerself, then,&rdquo; he yelled. There was a bitter challenge in
his voice.
</p>

<p>
They galloped together down the regimental front. The friend scrambled after
them. In front of the colors the three men began to bawl: &ldquo;Come on! come
on!&rdquo; They danced and gyrated like tortured savages.
</p>

<p>
The flag, obedient to these appeals, bended its glittering form and swept
toward them. The men wavered in indecision for a moment, and then with a long,
wailful cry the dilapidated regiment surged forward and began its new journey.
</p>

<p>
Over the field went the scurrying mass. It was a handful of men splattered into
the faces of the enemy. Toward it instantly sprang the yellow tongues. A vast
quantity of blue smoke hung before them. A mighty banging made ears valueless.
</p>

<p>
The youth ran like a madman to reach the woods before a bullet could discover
him. He ducked his head low, like a football player. In his haste his eyes
almost closed, and the scene was a wild blur. Pulsating saliva stood at the
corners of his mouth.
</p>

<p>
Within him, as he hurled himself forward, was born a love, a despairing
fondness for this flag which was near him. It was a creation of beauty and
invulnerability. It was a goddess, radiant, that bended its form with an
imperious gesture to him. It was a woman, red and white, hating and loving,
that called him with the voice of his hopes. Because no harm could come to it
he endowed it with power. He kept near, as if it could be a saver of lives, and
an imploring cry went from his mind.
</p>

<p>
In the mad scramble he was aware that the color sergeant flinched suddenly, as
if struck by a bludgeon. He faltered, and then became motionless, save for his
quivering knees. He made a spring and a clutch at the pole. At the same instant
his friend grabbed it from the other side. They jerked at it, stout and
furious, but the color sergeant was dead, and the corpse would not relinquish
its trust. For a moment there was a grim encounter. The dead man, swinging with
bended back, seemed to be obstinately tugging, in ludicrous and awful ways, for
the possession of the flag.
</p>

<p>
It was past in an instant of time. They wrenched the flag furiously from the
dead man, and, as they turned again, the corpse swayed forward with bowed head.
One arm swung high, and the curved hand fell with heavy protest on the
friend&rsquo;s unheeding shoulder.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap20"></a>Chapter XX.</h2>

<p>
When the two youths turned with the flag they saw that much of the regiment had
crumbled away, and the dejected remnant was coming slowly back. The men, having
hurled themselves in projectile fashion, had presently expended their forces.
They slowly retreated, with their faces still toward the spluttering woods, and
their hot rifles still replying to the din. Several officers were giving
orders, their voices keyed to screams.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Where in hell yeh goin&rsquo;?&rdquo; the lieutenant was asking in a
sarcastic howl. And a red-bearded officer, whose voice of triple brass could
plainly be heard, was commanding: &ldquo;Shoot into &rsquo;em! Shoot into
&rsquo;em, Gawd damn their souls!&rdquo; There was a <i>melée</i> of screeches,
in which the men were ordered to do conflicting and impossible things.
</p>

<p>
The youth and his friend had a small scuffle over the flag. &ldquo;Give it
t&rsquo; me!&rdquo; &ldquo;No, let me keep it!&rdquo; Each felt satisfied with
the other&rsquo;s possession of it, but each felt bound to declare, by an offer
to carry the emblem, his willingness to further risk himself. The youth roughly
pushed his friend away.
</p>

<p>
The regiment fell back to the stolid trees. There it halted for a moment to
blaze at some dark forms that had begun to steal upon its track. Presently it
resumed its march again, curving among the tree trunks. By the time the
depleted regiment had again reached the first open space they were receiving a
fast and merciless fire. There seemed to be mobs all about them.
</p>

<p>
The greater part of the men, discouraged, their spirits worn by the turmoil,
acted as if stunned. They accepted the pelting of the bullets with bowed and
weary heads. It was of no purpose to strive against walls. It was of no use to
batter themselves against granite. And from this consciousness that they had
attempted to conquer an unconquerable thing there seemed to arise a feeling
that they had been betrayed. They glowered with bent brows, but dangerously,
upon some of the officers, more particularly upon the red-bearded one with the
voice of triple brass.
</p>

<p>
However, the rear of the regiment was fringed with men, who continued to shoot
irritably at the advancing foes. They seemed resolved to make every trouble.
The youthful lieutenant was perhaps the last man in the disordered mass. His
forgotten back was toward the enemy. He had been shot in the arm. It hung
straight and rigid. Occasionally he would cease to remember it, and be about to
emphasize an oath with a sweeping gesture. The multiplied pain caused him to
swear with incredible power.
</p>

<p>
The youth went along with slipping uncertain feet. He kept watchful eyes
rearward. A scowl of mortification and rage was upon his face. He had thought
of a fine revenge upon the officer who had referred to him and his fellows as
mule drivers. But he saw that it could not come to pass. His dreams had
collapsed when the mule drivers, dwindling rapidly, had wavered and hesitated
on the little clearing, and then had recoiled. And now the retreat of the mule
drivers was a march of shame to him.
</p>

<p>
A dagger-pointed gaze from without his blackened face was held toward the
enemy, but his greater hatred was riveted upon the man, who, not knowing him,
had called him a mule driver.
</p>

<p>
When he knew that he and his comrades had failed to do anything in successful
ways that might bring the little pangs of a kind of remorse upon the officer,
the youth allowed the rage of the baffled to possess him. This cold officer
upon a monument, who dropped epithets unconcernedly down, would be finer as a
dead man, he thought. So grievous did he think it that he could never possess
the secret right to taunt truly in answer.
</p>

<p>
He had pictured red letters of curious revenge. &ldquo;We <i>are</i> mule
drivers, are we?&rdquo; And now he was compelled to throw them away.
</p>

<p>
He presently wrapped his heart in the cloak of his pride and kept the flag
erect. He harangued his fellows, pushing against their chests with his free
hand. To those he knew well he made frantic appeals, beseeching them by name.
Between him and the lieutenant, scolding and near to losing his mind with rage,
there was felt a subtle fellowship and equality. They supported each other in
all manner of hoarse, howling protests.
</p>

<p>
But the regiment was a machine run down. The two men babbled at a forceless
thing. The soldiers who had heart to go slowly were continually shaken in their
resolves by a knowledge that comrades were slipping with speed back to the
lines. It was difficult to think of reputation when others were thinking of
skins. Wounded men were left crying on this black journey.
</p>

<p>
The smoke fringes and flames blustered always. The youth, peering once through
a sudden rift in a cloud, saw a brown mass of troops, interwoven and magnified
until they appeared to be thousands. A fierce-hued flag flashed before his
vision.
</p>

<p>
Immediately, as if the uplifting of the smoke had been prearranged, the
discovered troops burst into a rasping yell, and a hundred flames jetted toward
the retreating band. A rolling gray cloud again interposed as the regiment
doggedly replied. The youth had to depend again upon his misused ears, which
were trembling and buzzing from the <i>melée</i> of musketry and yells.
</p>

<p>
The way seemed eternal. In the clouded haze men became panic-stricken with the
thought that the regiment had lost its path, and was proceeding in a perilous
direction. Once the men who headed the wild procession turned and came pushing
back against their comrades, screaming that they were being fired upon from
points which they had considered to be toward their own lines. At this cry a
hysterical fear and dismay beset the troops. A soldier, who heretofore had been
ambitious to make the regiment into a wise little band that would proceed
calmly amid the huge-appearing difficulties, suddenly sank down and buried his
face in his arms with an air of bowing to a doom. From another a shrill
lamentation rang out filled with profane allusions to a general. Men ran hither
and thither, seeking with their eyes roads of escape. With serene regularity,
as if controlled by a schedule, bullets buffed into men.
</p>

<p>
The youth walked stolidly into the midst of the mob, and with his flag in his
hands took a stand as if he expected an attempt to push him to the ground. He
unconsciously assumed the attitude of the color bearer in the fight of the
preceding day. He passed over his brow a hand that trembled. His breath did not
come freely. He was choking during this small wait for the crisis.
</p>

<p>
His friend came to him. &ldquo;Well, Henry, I guess this is
good-by&mdash;John.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh, shut up, you damned fool!&rdquo; replied the youth, and he would not
look at the other.
</p>

<p>
The officers labored like politicians to beat the mass into a proper circle to
face the menaces. The ground was uneven and torn. The men curled into
depressions and fitted themselves snugly behind whatever would frustrate a
bullet. The youth noted with vague surprise that the lieutenant was standing
mutely with his legs far apart and his sword held in the manner of a cane. The
youth wondered what had happened to his vocal organs that he no more cursed.
</p>

<p>
There was something curious in this little intent pause of the lieutenant. He
was like a babe which, having wept its fill, raises its eyes and fixes upon a
distant toy. He was engrossed in this contemplation, and the soft under lip
quivered from self-whispered words.
</p>

<p>
Some lazy and ignorant smoke curled slowly. The men, hiding from the bullets,
waited anxiously for it to lift and disclose the plight of the regiment.
</p>

<p>
The silent ranks were suddenly thrilled by the eager voice of the youthful
lieutenant bawling out: &ldquo;Here they come! Right onto us,
b&rsquo;Gawd!&rdquo; His further words were lost in a roar of wicked thunder
from the men&rsquo;s rifles.
</p>

<p>
The youth&rsquo;s eyes had instantly turned in the direction indicated by the
awakened and agitated lieutenant, and he had seen the haze of treachery
disclosing a body of soldiers of the enemy. They were so near that he could see
their features. There was a recognition as he looked at the types of faces.
Also he perceived with dim amazement that their uniforms were rather gay in
effect, being light gray, accented with a brilliant-hued facing. Too, the
clothes seemed new.
</p>

<p>
These troops had apparently been going forward with caution, their rifles held
in readiness, when the youthful lieutenant had discovered them and their
movement had been interrupted by the volley from the blue regiment. From the
moment&rsquo;s glimpse, it was derived that they had been unaware of the
proximity of their dark-suited foes or had mistaken the direction. Almost
instantly they were shut utterly from the youth&rsquo;s sight by the smoke from
the energetic rifles of his companions. He strained his vision to learn the
accomplishment of the volley, but the smoke hung before him.
</p>

<p>
The two bodies of troops exchanged blows in the manner of a pair of boxers. The
fast angry firings went back and forth. The men in blue were intent with the
despair of their circumstances and they seized upon the revenge to be had at
close range. Their thunder swelled loud and valiant. Their curving front
bristled with flashes and the place resounded with the clangor of their
ramrods. The youth ducked and dodged for a time and achieved a few
unsatisfactory views of the enemy. There appeared to be many of them and they
were replying swiftly. They seemed moving toward the blue regiment, step by
step. He seated himself gloomily on the ground with his flag between his knees.
</p>

<p>
As he noted the vicious, wolflike temper of his comrades he had a sweet thought
that if the enemy was about to swallow the regimental broom as a large
prisoner, it could at least have the consolation of going down with bristles
forward.
</p>

<p>
But the blows of the antagonist began to grow more weak. Fewer bullets ripped
the air, and finally, when the men slackened to learn of the fight, they could
see only dark, floating smoke. The regiment lay still and gazed. Presently some
chance whim came to the pestering blur, and it began to coil heavily away. The
men saw a ground vacant of fighters. It would have been an empty stage if it
were not for a few corpses that lay thrown and twisted into fantastic shapes
upon the sward.
</p>

<p>
At sight of this tableau, many of the men in blue sprang from behind their
covers and made an ungainly dance of joy. Their eyes burned and a hoarse cheer
of elation broke from their dry lips.
</p>

<p>
It had begun to seem to them that events were trying to prove that they were
impotent. These little battles had evidently endeavored to demonstrate that the
men could not fight well. When on the verge of submission to these opinions,
the small duel had showed them that the proportions were not impossible, and by
it they had revenged themselves upon their misgivings and upon the foe.
</p>

<p>
The impetus of enthusiasm was theirs again. They gazed about them with looks of
uplifted pride, feeling new trust in the grim, always confident weapons in
their hands. And they were men.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap21"></a>Chapter XXI.</h2>

<p>
Presently they knew that no firing threatened them. All ways seemed once more
opened to them. The dusty blue lines of their friends were disclosed a short
distance away. In the distance there were many colossal noises, but in all this
part of the field there was a sudden stillness.
</p>

<p>
They perceived that they were free. The depleted band drew a long breath of
relief and gathered itself into a bunch to complete its trip.
</p>

<p>
In this last length of journey the men began to show strange emotions. They
hurried with nervous fear. Some who had been dark and unfaltering in the
grimmest moments now could not conceal an anxiety that made them frantic. It
was perhaps that they dreaded to be killed in insignificant ways after the
times for proper military deaths had passed. Or, perhaps, they thought it would
be too ironical to get killed at the portals of safety. With backward looks of
perturbation, they hastened.
</p>

<p>
As they approached their own lines there was some sarcasm exhibited on the part
of a gaunt and bronzed regiment that lay resting in the shade of the trees.
Questions were wafted to them.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Where th&rsquo; hell yeh been?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;What yeh comin&rsquo; back fer?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Why didn&rsquo;t yeh stay there?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Was it warm out there, sonny?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Goin&rsquo; home now, boys?&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
One shouted in taunting mimicry: &ldquo;Oh, mother, come quick an&rsquo; look
at th&rsquo; sojers!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
There was no reply from the bruised and battered regiment, save that one man
made broadcast challenges to fist fights and the red-bearded officer walked
rather near and glared in great swashbuckler style at a tall captain in the
other regiment. But the lieutenant suppressed the man who wished to fist fight,
and the tall captain, flushing at the little fanfare of the red-bearded one,
was obliged to look intently at some trees.
</p>

<p>
The youth&rsquo;s tender flesh was deeply stung by these remarks. From under
his creased brows he glowered with hate at the mockers. He meditated upon a few
revenges. Still, many in the regiment hung their heads in criminal fashion, so
that it came to pass that the men trudged with sudden heaviness, as if they
bore upon their bended shoulders the coffin of their honor. And the youthful
lieutenant, recollecting himself, began to mutter softly in black curses.
</p>

<p>
They turned when they arrived at their old position to regard the ground over
which they had charged.
</p>

<p>
The youth in this contemplation was smitten with a large astonishment. He
discovered that the distances, as compared with the brilliant measurings of his
mind, were trivial and ridiculous. The stolid trees, where much had taken
place, seemed incredibly near. The time, too, now that he reflected, he saw to
have been short. He wondered at the number of emotions and events that had been
crowded into such little spaces. Elfin thoughts must have exaggerated and
enlarged everything, he said.
</p>

<p>
It seemed, then, that there was bitter justice in the speeches of the gaunt and
bronzed veterans. He veiled a glance of disdain at his fellows who strewed the
ground, choking with dust, red from perspiration, misty-eyed, disheveled.
</p>

<p>
They were gulping at their canteens, fierce to wring every mite of water from
them, and they polished at their swollen and watery features with coat sleeves
and bunches of grass.
</p>

<p>
However, to the youth there was a considerable joy in musing upon his
performances during the charge. He had had very little time previously in which
to appreciate himself, so that there was now much satisfaction in quietly
thinking of his actions. He recalled bits of color that in the flurry had
stamped themselves unawares upon his engaged senses.
</p>

<p>
As the regiment lay heaving from its hot exertions the officer who had named
them as mule drivers came galloping along the line. He had lost his cap. His
tousled hair streamed wildly, and his face was dark with vexation and wrath.
His temper was displayed with more clearness by the way in which he managed his
horse. He jerked and wrenched savagely at his bridle, stopping the
hard-breathing animal with a furious pull near the colonel of the regiment. He
immediately exploded in reproaches which came unbidden to the ears of the men.
They were suddenly alert, being always curious about black words between
officers.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh, thunder, MacChesnay, what an awful bull you made of this
thing!&rdquo; began the officer. He attempted low tones, but his indignation
caused certain of the men to learn the sense of his words. &ldquo;What an awful
mess you made! Good Lord, man, you stopped about a hundred feet this side of a
very pretty success! If your men had gone a hundred feet farther you would have
made a great charge, but as it is&mdash;what a lot of mud diggers you&rsquo;ve
got anyway!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The men, listening with bated breath, now turned their curious eyes upon the
colonel. They had a ragamuffin interest in this affair.
</p>

<p>
The colonel was seen to straighten his form and put one hand forth in
oratorical fashion. He wore an injured air; it was as if a deacon had been
accused of stealing. The men were wiggling in an ecstasy of excitement.
</p>

<p>
But of a sudden the colonel&rsquo;s manner changed from that of a deacon to
that of a Frenchman. He shrugged his shoulders. &ldquo;Oh, well, general, we
went as far as we could,&rdquo; he said calmly.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;As far as you could? Did you, b&rsquo;Gawd?&rdquo; snorted the other.
&ldquo;Well, that wasn&rsquo;t very far, was it?&rdquo; he added, with a glance
of cold contempt into the other&rsquo;s eyes. &ldquo;Not very far, I think. You
were intended to make a diversion in favor of Whiterside. How well you
succeeded your own ears can now tell you.&rdquo; He wheeled his horse and rode
stiffly away.
</p>

<p>
The colonel, bidden to hear the jarring noises of an engagement in the woods to
the left, broke out in vague damnations.
</p>

<p>
The lieutenant, who had listened with an air of impotent rage to the interview,
spoke suddenly in firm and undaunted tones. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care what a
man is&mdash;whether he is a general or what&mdash;if he says th&rsquo; boys
didn&rsquo;t put up a good fight out there he&rsquo;s a damned fool.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Lieutenant,&rdquo; began the colonel, severely, &ldquo;this is my own
affair, and I&rsquo;ll trouble you&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The lieutenant made an obedient gesture. &ldquo;All right, colonel, all
right,&rdquo; he said. He sat down with an air of being content with himself.
</p>

<p>
The news that the regiment had been reproached went along the line. For a time
the men were bewildered by it. &ldquo;Good thunder!&rdquo; they ejaculated,
staring at the vanishing form of the general. They conceived it to be a huge
mistake.
</p>

<p>
Presently, however, they began to believe that in truth their efforts had been
called light. The youth could see this conviction weigh upon the entire
regiment until the men were like cuffed and cursed animals, but withal
rebellious.
</p>

<p>
The friend, with a grievance in his eye, went to the youth. &ldquo;I wonder
what he does want,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;He must think we went out there
an&rsquo; played marbles! I never see sech a man!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth developed a tranquil philosophy for these moments of irritation.
&ldquo;Oh, well,&rdquo; he rejoined, &ldquo;he probably didn&rsquo;t see
nothing of it at all and got mad as blazes, and concluded we were a lot of
sheep, just because we didn&rsquo;t do what he wanted done. It&rsquo;s a pity
old Grandpa Henderson got killed yestirday&mdash;he&rsquo;d have known that we
did our best and fought good. It&rsquo;s just our awful luck, that&rsquo;s
what.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;I should say so,&rdquo; replied the friend. He seemed to be deeply
wounded at an injustice. &ldquo;I should say we did have awful luck!
There&rsquo;s no fun in fightin&rsquo; fer people when everything yeh
do&mdash;no matter what&mdash;ain&rsquo;t done right. I have a notion t&rsquo;
stay behind next time an&rsquo; let &rsquo;em take their ol&rsquo; charge
an&rsquo; go t&rsquo; th&rsquo; devil with it.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth spoke soothingly to his comrade. &ldquo;Well, we both did good.
I&rsquo;d like to see the fool what&rsquo;d say we both didn&rsquo;t do as good
as we could!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Of course we did,&rdquo; declared the friend stoutly. &ldquo;An&rsquo;
I&rsquo;d break th&rsquo; feller&rsquo;s neck if he was as big as a church. But
we&rsquo;re all right, anyhow, for I heard one feller say that we two fit
th&rsquo; best in th&rsquo; reg&rsquo;ment, an&rsquo; they had a great argument
&rsquo;bout it. Another feller, &rsquo;a course, he had t&rsquo; up an&rsquo;
say it was a lie&mdash;he seen all what was goin&rsquo; on an&rsquo; he never
seen us from th&rsquo; beginnin&rsquo; t&rsquo; th&rsquo; end. An&rsquo; a lot
more stuck in an&rsquo; ses it wasn&rsquo;t a lie&mdash;we did fight like
thunder, an&rsquo; they give us quite a sendoff. But this is what I can&rsquo;t
stand&mdash;these everlastin&rsquo; ol&rsquo; soldiers, titterin&rsquo;
an&rsquo; laughin&rsquo;, an then that general, he&rsquo;s crazy.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth exclaimed with sudden exasperation: &ldquo;He&rsquo;s a lunkhead! He
makes me mad. I wish he&rsquo;d come along next time. We&rsquo;d show &rsquo;im
what&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
He ceased because several men had come hurrying up. Their faces expressed a
bringing of great news.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;O Flem, yeh jest oughta heard!&rdquo; cried one, eagerly.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Heard what?&rdquo; said the youth.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Yeh jest oughta heard!&rdquo; repeated the other, and he arranged
himself to tell his tidings. The others made an excited circle. &ldquo;Well,
sir, th&rsquo; colonel met your lieutenant right by us&mdash;it was damnedest
thing I ever heard&mdash;an&rsquo; he ses: &lsquo;Ahem! ahem!&rsquo; he ses.
&lsquo;Mr. Hasbrouck!&rsquo; he ses, &lsquo;by th&rsquo; way, who was that lad
what carried th&rsquo; flag?&rsquo; he ses. There, Flemin&rsquo;, what d&rsquo;
yeh think &rsquo;a that? &lsquo;Who was th&rsquo; lad what carried th&rsquo;
flag?&rsquo; he ses, an&rsquo; th&rsquo; lieutenant, he speaks up right away:
&lsquo;That&rsquo;s Flemin&rsquo;, an&rsquo; he&rsquo;s a jimhickey,&rsquo; he
ses, right away. What? I say he did. &lsquo;A jimhickey,&rsquo; he
ses&mdash;those &rsquo;r his words. He did, too. I say he did. If you kin tell
this story better than I kin, go ahead an&rsquo; tell it. Well, then, keep yer
mouth shet. Th&rsquo; lieutenant, he ses: &lsquo;He&rsquo;s a jimhickey,&rsquo;
and th&rsquo; colonel, he ses: &lsquo;Ahem! ahem! he is, indeed, a very good
man t&rsquo; have, ahem! He kep&rsquo; th&rsquo; flag &rsquo;way t&rsquo;
th&rsquo; front. I saw &rsquo;im. He&rsquo;s a good un,&rsquo; ses th&rsquo;
colonel. &lsquo;You bet,&rsquo; ses th&rsquo; lieutenant, &lsquo;he an&rsquo; a
feller named Wilson was at th&rsquo; head &rsquo;a th&rsquo; charge, an&rsquo;
howlin&rsquo; like Indians all th&rsquo; time,&rsquo; he ses. &lsquo;Head
&rsquo;a th&rsquo; charge all th&rsquo; time,&rsquo; he ses. &lsquo;A feller
named Wilson,&rsquo; he ses. There, Wilson, m&rsquo;boy, put that in a letter
an&rsquo; send it hum t&rsquo; yer mother, hay? &lsquo;A feller named
Wilson,&rsquo; he ses. An&rsquo; th&rsquo; colonel, he ses: &lsquo;Were they,
indeed? Ahem! ahem! My sakes!&rsquo; he ses. &lsquo;At th&rsquo; head &rsquo;a
th&rsquo; reg&rsquo;ment?&rsquo; he ses. &lsquo;They were,&rsquo; ses th&rsquo;
lieutenant. &lsquo;My sakes!&rsquo; ses th&rsquo; colonel. He ses: &lsquo;Well,
well, well,&rsquo; he ses. &lsquo;They deserve t&rsquo; be
major-generals.&rsquo;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The youth and his friend had said: &ldquo;Huh!&rdquo; &ldquo;Yer lyin&rsquo;
Thompson.&rdquo; &ldquo;Oh, go t&rsquo; blazes!&rdquo; &ldquo;He never sed
it.&rdquo; &ldquo;Oh, what a lie!&rdquo; &ldquo;Huh!&rdquo; But despite these
youthful scoffings and embarrassments, they knew that their faces were deeply
flushing from thrills of pleasure. They exchanged a secret glance of joy and
congratulation.
</p>

<p>
They speedily forgot many things. The past held no pictures of error and
disappointment. They were very happy, and their hearts swelled with grateful
affection for the colonel and the youthful lieutenant.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap22"></a>Chapter XXII.</h2>

<p>
When the woods again began to pour forth the dark-hued masses of the enemy the
youth felt serene self-confidence. He smiled briefly when he saw men dodge and
duck at the long screechings of shells that were thrown in giant handfuls over
them. He stood, erect and tranquil, watching the attack begin against a part of
the line that made a blue curve along the side of an adjacent hill. His vision
being unmolested by smoke from the rifles of his companions, he had
opportunities to see parts of the hard fight. It was a relief to perceive at
last from whence came some of these noises which had been roared into his ears.
</p>

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

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

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

<p>
The detached battle between the four regiments lasted for some time. There
chanced to be no interference, and they settled their dispute by themselves.
They struck savagely and powerfully at each other for a period of minutes, and
then the lighter-hued regiments faltered and drew back, leaving the dark-blue
lines shouting. The youth could see the two flags shaking with laughter amid
the smoke remnants.
</p>

<p>
Presently there was a stillness, pregnant with meaning. The blue lines shifted
and changed a trifle and stared expectantly at the silent woods and fields
before them. The hush was solemn and churchlike, save for a distant battery
that, evidently unable to remain quiet, sent a faint rolling thunder over the
ground. It irritated, like the noises of unimpressed boys. The men imagined
that it would prevent their perched ears from hearing the first words of the
new battle.
</p>

<p>
Of a sudden the guns on the slope roared out a message of warning. A
spluttering sound had begun in the woods. It swelled with amazing speed to a
profound clamor that involved the earth in noises. The splitting crashes swept
along the lines until an interminable roar was developed. To those in the midst
of it it became a din fitted to the universe. It was the whirring and thumping
of gigantic machinery, complications among the smaller stars. The youth&rsquo;s
ears were filled cups. They were incapable of hearing more.
</p>

<p>
On an incline over which a road wound he saw wild and desperate rushes of men
perpetually backward and forward in riotous surges. These parts of the opposing
armies were two long waves that pitched upon each other madly at dictated
points. To and fro they swelled. Sometimes, one side by its yells and cheers
would proclaim decisive blows, but a moment later the other side would be all
yells and cheers. Once the youth saw a spray of light forms go in houndlike
leaps toward the waving blue lines. There was much howling, and presently it
went away with a vast mouthful of prisoners. Again, he saw a blue wave dash
with such thunderous force against a gray obstruction that it seemed to clear
the earth of it and leave nothing but trampled sod. And always in their swift
and deadly rushes to and fro the men screamed and yelled like maniacs.
</p>

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

<p>
His emaciated regiment bustled forth with undiminished fierceness when its time
came. When assaulted again by bullets, the men burst out in a barbaric cry of
rage and pain. They bent their heads in aims of intent hatred behind the
projected hammers of their guns. Their ramrods clanged loud with fury as their
eager arms pounded the cartridges into the rifle barrels. The front of the
regiment was a smoke-wall penetrated by the flashing points of yellow and red.
</p>

<p>
Wallowing in the fight, they were in an astonishingly short time resmudged.
They surpassed in stain and dirt all their previous appearances. Moving to and
fro with strained exertion, jabbering all the while, they were, with their
swaying bodies, black faces, and glowing eyes, like strange and ugly fiends
jigging heavily in the smoke.
</p>

<p>
The lieutenant, returning from a tour after a bandage, produced from a hidden
receptacle of his mind new and portentous oaths suited to the emergency.
Strings of expletives he swung lashlike over the backs of his men, and it was
evident that his previous efforts had in nowise impaired his resources.
</p>

<p>
The youth, still the bearer of the colors, did not feel his idleness. He was
deeply absorbed as a spectator. The crash and swing of the great drama made him
lean forward, intent-eyed, his face working in small contortions. Sometimes he
prattled, words coming unconsciously from him in grotesque exclamations. He did
not know that he breathed; that the flag hung silently over him, so absorbed
was he.
</p>

<p>
A formidable line of the enemy came within dangerous range. They could be seen
plainly&mdash;tall, gaunt men with excited faces running with long strides
toward a wandering fence.
</p>

<p>
At sight of this danger the men suddenly ceased their cursing monotone. There
was an instant of strained silence before they threw up their rifles and fired
a plumping volley at the foes. There had been no order given; the men, upon
recognizing the menace, had immediately let drive their flock of bullets
without waiting for word of command.
</p>

<p>
But the enemy were quick to gain the protection of the wandering line of fence.
They slid down behind it with remarkable celerity, and from this position they
began briskly to slice up the blue men.
</p>

<p>
These latter braced their energies for a great struggle. Often, white clinched
teeth shone from the dusky faces. Many heads surged to and fro, floating upon a
pale sea of smoke. Those behind the fence frequently shouted and yelped in
taunts and gibelike cries, but the regiment maintained a stressed silence.
Perhaps, at this new assault the men recalled the fact that they had been named
mud diggers, and it made their situation thrice bitter. They were breathlessly
intent upon keeping the ground and thrusting away the rejoicing body of the
enemy. They fought swiftly and with a despairing savageness denoted in their
expressions.
</p>

<p>
The youth had resolved not to budge whatever should happen. Some arrows of
scorn that had buried themselves in his heart had generated strange and
unspeakable hatred. It was clear to him that his final and absolute revenge was
to be achieved by his dead body lying, torn and gluttering, upon the field.
This was to be a poignant retaliation upon the officer who had said &ldquo;mule
drivers,&rdquo; and later &ldquo;mud diggers,&rdquo; for in all the wild
graspings of his mind for a unit responsible for his sufferings and commotions
he always seized upon the man who had dubbed him wrongly. And it was his idea,
vaguely formulated, that his corpse would be for those eyes a great and salt
reproach.
</p>

<p>
The regiment bled extravagantly. Grunting bundles of blue began to drop. The
orderly sergeant of the youth&rsquo;s company was shot through the cheeks. Its
supports being injured, his jaw hung afar down, disclosing in the wide cavern
of his mouth a pulsing mass of blood and teeth. And with it all he made
attempts to cry out. In his endeavor there was a dreadful earnestness, as if he
conceived that one great shriek would make him well.
</p>

<p>
The youth saw him presently go rearward. His strength seemed in nowise
impaired. He ran swiftly, casting wild glances for succor.
</p>

<p>
Others fell down about the feet of their companions. Some of the wounded
crawled out and away, but many lay still, their bodies twisted into impossible
shapes.
</p>

<p>
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 to curse, but it was
now with the air of a man who was using his last box of oaths.
</p>

<p>
For the fire of the regiment had begun to wane and drip. The robust voice, that
had come strangely from the thin ranks, was growing rapidly weak.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap23"></a>Chapter XXIII.</h2>

<p>
The colonel came running along the back of the line. There were other officers
following him. &ldquo;We must charge &rsquo;m!&rdquo; they shouted. &ldquo;We
must charge &rsquo;m!&rdquo; they cried with resentful voices, as if
anticipating a rebellion against this plan by the men.
</p>

<p>
The youth, upon hearing the shouts, began to study the distance between him and
the enemy. He made vague calculations. He saw that to be firm soldiers they
must go forward. It would be death to stay in the present place, and with all
the circumstances to go backward would exalt too many others. Their hope was to
push the galling foes away from the fence.
</p>

<p>
He expected that his companions, weary and stiffened, would have to be driven
to this assault, but as he turned toward them he perceived with a certain
surprise that they were giving quick and unqualified expressions of assent.
There was an ominous, clanging overture to the charge when the shafts of the
bayonets rattled upon the rifle barrels. At the yelled words of command the
soldiers sprang forward in eager leaps. There was new and unexpected force in
the movement of the regiment. A knowledge of its faded and jaded condition made
the charge appear like a paroxysm, a display of the strength that comes before
a final feebleness. The men scampered in insane fever of haste, racing as if to
achieve a sudden success before an exhilarating fluid should leave them. It was
a blind and despairing rush by the collection of men in dusty and tattered
blue, over a green sward and under a sapphire sky, toward a fence, dimly
outlined in smoke, from behind which sputtered the fierce rifles of enemies.
</p>

<p>
The youth kept the bright colors to the front. He was waving his free arm in
furious circles, the while shrieking mad calls and appeals, urging on those
that did not need to be urged, for it seemed that the mob of blue men hurling
themselves on the dangerous group of rifles were again grown suddenly wild with
an enthusiasm of unselfishness. From the many firings starting toward them, it
looked as if they would merely succeed in making a great sprinkling of corpses
on the grass between their former position and the fence. But they were in a
state of frenzy, perhaps because of forgotten vanities, and it made an
exhibition of sublime recklessness. There was no obvious questioning, nor
figurings, nor diagrams. There was, apparently, no considered loopholes. It
appeared that the swift wings of their desires would have shattered against the
iron gates of the impossible.
</p>

<p>
He himself felt the daring spirit of a savage, religion-mad. He was capable of
profound sacrifices, a tremendous death. He had no time for dissections, but he
knew that he thought of the bullets only as things that could prevent him from
reaching the place of his endeavor. There were subtle flashings of joy within
him that thus should be his mind.
</p>

<p>
He strained all his strength. His eyesight was shaken and dazzled by the
tension of thought and muscle. He did not see anything excepting the mist of
smoke gashed by the little knives of fire, but he knew that in it lay the aged
fence of a vanished farmer protecting the snuggled bodies of the gray men.
</p>

<p>
As he ran a thought of the shock of contact gleamed in his mind. He expected a
great concussion when the two bodies of troops crashed together. This became a
part of his wild battle madness. He could feel the onward swing of the regiment
about him and he conceived of a thunderous, crushing blow that would prostrate
the resistance and spread consternation and amazement for miles. The flying
regiment was going to have a catapultian effect. This dream made him run faster
among his comrades, who were giving vent to hoarse and frantic cheers.
</p>

<p>
But presently he could see that many of the men in gray did not intend to abide
the blow. The smoke, rolling, disclosed men who ran, their faces still turned.
These grew to a crowd, who retired stubbornly. Individuals wheeled frequently
to send a bullet at the blue wave.
</p>

<p>
But at one part of the line there was a grim and obdurate group that made no
movement. They were settled firmly down behind posts and rails. A flag, ruffled
and fierce, waved over them and their rifles dinned fiercely.
</p>

<p>
The blue whirl of men got very near, until it seemed that in truth there would
be a close and frightful scuffle. There was an expressed disdain in the
opposition of the little group, that changed the meaning of the cheers of the
men in blue. They became yells of wrath, directed, personal. The cries of the
two parties were now in sound an interchange of scathing insults.
</p>

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

<p>
The youth had centered the gaze of his soul upon that other flag. Its
possession would be high pride. It would express bloody minglings, near blows.
He had a gigantic hatred for those who made great difficulties and
complications. They caused it to be as a craved treasure of mythology, hung
amid tasks and contrivances of danger.
</p>

<p>
He plunged like a mad horse at it. He was resolved it should not escape if wild
blows and darings of blows could seize it. His own emblem, quivering and
aflare, was winging toward the other. It seemed there would shortly be an
encounter of strange beaks and claws, as of eagles.
</p>

<p>
The swirling body of blue men came to a sudden halt at close and disastrous
range and roared a swift volley. The group in gray was split and broken by this
fire, but its riddled body still fought. The men in blue yelled again and
rushed in upon it.
</p>

<p>
The youth, in his leapings, saw, as through a mist, a picture of four or five
men stretched upon the ground or writhing upon their knees with bowed heads as
if they had been stricken by bolts from the sky. Tottering among them was the
rival color bearer, whom the youth saw had been bitten vitally by the bullets
of the last formidable volley. He perceived this man fighting a last struggle,
the struggle of one whose legs are grasped by demons. It was a ghastly battle.
Over his face was the bleach of death, but set upon it was the dark and hard
lines of desperate purpose. With this terrible grin of resolution he hugged his
precious flag to him and was stumbling and staggering in his design to go the
way that led to safety for it.
</p>

<p>
But his wounds always made it seem that his feet were retarded, held, and he
fought a grim fight, as with invisible ghouls fastened greedily upon his limbs.
Those in advance of the scampering blue men, howling cheers, leaped at the
fence. The despair of the lost was in his eyes as he glanced back at them.
</p>

<p>
The youth&rsquo;s friend went over the obstruction in a tumbling heap and
sprang at the flag as a panther at prey. He pulled at it and, wrenching it
free, swung up its red brilliancy with a mad cry of exultation even as the
color bearer, gasping, lurched over in a final throe and, stiffening
convulsively, turned his dead face to the ground. There was much blood upon the
grass blades.
</p>

<p>
At the place of success there began more wild clamorings of cheers. The men
gesticulated and bellowed in an ecstasy. When they spoke it was as if they
considered their listener to be a mile away. What hats and caps were left to
them they often slung high in the air.
</p>

<p>
At one part of the line four men had been swooped upon, and they now sat as
prisoners. Some blue men were about them in an eager and curious circle. The
soldiers had trapped strange birds, and there was an examination. A flurry of
fast questions was in the air.
</p>

<p>
One of the prisoners was nursing a superficial wound in the foot. He cuddled
it, baby-wise, but he looked up from it often to curse with an astonishing
utter abandon straight at the noses of his captors. He consigned them to red
regions; he called upon the pestilential wrath of strange gods. And with it all
he was singularly free from recognition of the finer points of the conduct of
prisoners of war. It was as if a clumsy clod had trod upon his toe and he
conceived it to be his privilege, his duty, to use deep, resentful oaths.
</p>

<p>
Another, who was a boy in years, took his plight with great calmness and
apparent good nature. He conversed with the men in blue, studying their faces
with his bright and keen eyes. They spoke of battles and conditions. There was
an acute interest in all their faces during this exchange of view points. It
seemed a great satisfaction to hear voices from where all had been darkness and
speculation.
</p>

<p>
The third captive sat with a morose countenance. He preserved a stoical and
cold attitude. To all advances he made one reply without variation, &ldquo;Ah,
go t&rsquo; hell!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
The last of the four was always silent and, for the most part, kept his face
turned in unmolested directions. From the views the youth received he seemed to
be in a state of absolute dejection. Shame was upon him, and with it profound
regret that he was, perhaps, no more to be counted in the ranks of his fellows.
The youth could detect no expression that would allow him to believe that the
other was giving a thought to his narrowed future, the pictured dungeons,
perhaps, and starvations and brutalities, liable to the imagination. All to be
seen was shame for captivity and regret for the right to antagonize.
</p>

<p>
After the men had celebrated sufficiently they settled down behind the old rail
fence, on the opposite side to the one from which their foes had been driven. A
few shot perfunctorily at distant marks.
</p>

<p>
There was some long grass. The youth nestled in it and rested, making a
convenient rail support the flag. His friend, jubilant and glorified, holding
his treasure with vanity, came to him there. They sat side by side and
congratulated each other.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a id="chap24"></a>Chapter XXIV.</h2>

<p>
The roarings that had stretched in a long line of sound across the face of the
forest began to grow intermittent and weaker. The stentorian speeches of the
artillery continued in some distant encounter, but the crashes of the musketry
had almost ceased. The youth and his friend of a sudden looked up, feeling a
deadened form of distress at the waning of these noises, which had become a
part of life. They could see changes going on among the troops. There were
marchings this way and that way. A battery wheeled leisurely. On the crest of a
small hill was the thick gleam of many departing muskets.
</p>

<p>
The youth arose. &ldquo;Well, what now, I wonder?&rdquo; he said. By his tone
he seemed to be preparing to resent some new monstrosity in the way of dins and
smashes. He shaded his eyes with his grimy hand and gazed over the field.
</p>

<p>
His friend also arose and stared. &ldquo;I bet we&rsquo;re goin&rsquo; t&rsquo;
git along out of this an&rsquo; back over th&rsquo; river,&rdquo; said he.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Well, I swan!&rdquo; said the youth.
</p>

<p>
They waited, watching. Within a little while the regiment received orders to
retrace its way. The men got up grunting from the grass, regretting the soft
repose. They jerked their stiffened legs, and stretched their arms over their
heads. One man swore as he rubbed his eyes. They all groaned &ldquo;O
Lord!&rdquo; They had as many objections to this change as they would have had
to a proposal for a new battle.
</p>

<p>
They trampled slowly back over the field across which they had run in a mad
scamper.
</p>

<p>
The regiment marched until it had joined its fellows. The reformed brigade, in
column, aimed through a wood at the road. Directly they were in a mass of
dust-covered troops, and were trudging along in a way parallel to the
enemy&rsquo;s lines as these had been defined by the previous turmoil.
</p>

<p>
They passed within view of a stolid white house, and saw in front of it groups
of their comrades lying in wait behind a neat breastwork. A row of guns were
booming at a distant enemy. Shells thrown in reply were raising clouds of dust
and splinters. Horsemen dashed along the line of intrenchments.
</p>

<p>
At this point of its march the division curved away from the field and went
winding off in the direction of the river. When the significance of this
movement had impressed itself upon the youth he turned his head and looked over
his shoulder toward the trampled and <i>débris</i>-strewed ground. He breathed
a breath of new satisfaction. He finally nudged his friend. &ldquo;Well,
it&rsquo;s all over,&rdquo; he said to him.
</p>

<p>
His friend gazed backward. &ldquo;B&rsquo;Gawd, it is,&rdquo; he assented. They
mused.
</p>

<p>
For a time the youth was obliged to reflect in a puzzled and uncertain way. His
mind was undergoing a subtle change. It took moments for it to cast off its
battleful ways and resume its accustomed course of thought. Gradually his brain
emerged from the clogged clouds, and at last he was enabled to more closely
comprehend himself and circumstance.
</p>

<p>
He understood then that the existence of shot and countershot was in the past.
He had dwelt in a land of strange, squalling upheavals and had come forth. He
had been where there was red of blood and black of passion, and he was escaped.
His first thoughts were given to rejoicings at this fact.
</p>

<p>
Later he began to study his deeds, his failures, and his achievements. Thus,
fresh from scenes where many of his usual machines of reflection had been idle,
from where he had proceeded sheeplike, he struggled to marshal all his acts.
</p>

<p>
At last they marched before him clearly. From this present view point he was
enabled to look upon them in spectator fashion and criticise them with some
correctness, for his new condition had already defeated certain sympathies.
</p>

<p>
Regarding his procession of memory he felt gleeful and unregretting, for in it
his public deeds were paraded in great and shining prominence. Those
performances which had been witnessed by his fellows marched now in wide purple
and gold, having various deflections. They went gayly with music. It was
pleasure to watch these things. He spent delightful minutes viewing the gilded
images of memory.
</p>

<p>
He saw that he was good. He recalled with a thrill of joy the respectful
comments of his fellows upon his conduct.
</p>

<p>
Nevertheless, the ghost of his flight from the first engagement appeared to him
and danced. There were small shoutings in his brain about these matters. For a
moment he blushed, and the light of his soul flickered with shame.
</p>

<p>
A specter of reproach came to him. There loomed the dogging memory of the
tattered soldier&mdash;he who, gored by bullets and faint of blood, had fretted
concerning an imagined wound in another; he who had loaned his last of strength
and intellect for the tall soldier; he who, blind with weariness and pain, had
been deserted in the field.
</p>

<p>
For an instant a wretched chill of sweat was upon him at the thought that he
might be detected in the thing. As he stood persistently before his vision, he
gave vent to a cry of sharp irritation and agony.
</p>

<p>
His friend turned. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter, Henry?&rdquo; he demanded.
The youth&rsquo;s reply was an outburst of crimson oaths.
</p>

<p>
As he marched along the little branch-hung roadway among his prattling
companions this vision of cruelty brooded over him. It clung near him always
and darkened his view of these deeds in purple and gold. Whichever way his
thoughts turned they were followed by the somber phantom of the desertion in
the fields. He looked stealthily at his companions, feeling sure that they must
discern in his face evidences of this pursuit. But they were plodding in ragged
array, discussing with quick tongues the accomplishments of the late battle.
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh, if a man should come up an&rsquo; ask me, I&rsquo;d say we got a dum
good lickin&rsquo;.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Lickin&rsquo;&mdash;in yer eye! We ain&rsquo;t licked, sonny.
We&rsquo;re goin&rsquo; down here aways, swing aroun&rsquo;, an&rsquo; come in
behint &rsquo;em.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh, hush, with your comin&rsquo; in behint &rsquo;em. I&rsquo;ve seen
all &rsquo;a that I wanta. Don&rsquo;t tell me about comin&rsquo; in
behint&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Bill Smithers, he ses he&rsquo;d rather been in ten hundred battles than
been in that heluva hospital. He ses they got shootin&rsquo; in th&rsquo;
nighttime, an&rsquo; shells dropped plum among &rsquo;em in th&rsquo; hospital.
He ses sech hollerin&rsquo; he never see.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Hasbrouck? He&rsquo;s th&rsquo; best off&rsquo;cer in this here
reg&rsquo;ment. He&rsquo;s a whale.&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t I tell yeh we&rsquo;d come aroun&rsquo; in behint
&rsquo;em? Didn&rsquo;t I tell yeh so? We&mdash;&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
&ldquo;Oh, shet yeh mouth!&rdquo;
</p>

<p>
For a time this pursuing recollection of the tattered man took all elation from
the youth&rsquo;s veins. He saw his vivid error, and he was afraid that it
would stand before him all his life. He took no share in the chatter of his
comrades, nor did he look at them or know them, save when he felt sudden
suspicion that they were seeing his thoughts and scrutinizing each detail of
the scene with the tattered soldier.
</p>

<p>
Yet gradually he mustered force to put the sin at a distance. And at last his
eyes seemed to open to some new ways. He found that he could look back upon the
brass and bombast of his earlier gospels and see them truly. He was gleeful
when he discovered that he now despised them.
</p>

<p>
With this conviction came a store of assurance. He felt a quiet manhood,
nonassertive but of sturdy and strong blood. He knew that he would no more
quail before his guides wherever they should point. He had been to touch the
great death, and found that, after all, it was but the great death. He was a
man.
</p>

<p>
So it came to pass that as he trudged from the place of blood and wrath his
soul changed. He came from hot plowshares to prospects of clover tranquilly,
and it was as if hot plowshares were not. Scars faded as flowers.
</p>

<p>
It rained. The procession of weary soldiers became a bedraggled train,
despondent and muttering, marching with churning effort in a trough of liquid
brown mud under a low, wretched sky. Yet the youth smiled, for he saw that the
world was a world for him, though many discovered it to be made of oaths and
walking sticks. He had rid himself of the red sickness of battle. The sultry
nightmare was in the past. He had been an animal blistered and sweating in the
heat and pain of war. He turned now with a lover&rsquo;s thirst to images of
tranquil skies, fresh meadows, cool brooks&mdash;an existence of soft and
eternal peace.
</p>

<p>
Over the river a golden ray of sun came through the hosts of leaden rain
clouds.
</p>

<p class="center">
THE END.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 73 ***</div>
</body>
</html>
generated by cgit v1.2.3 (git 2.25.1) at 2026-02-04 22:07:14 +0000