THE youth cringed as if discovered
in a crime. By heavens, they
had won after all! The im- becile
line had remained and become
victors.
He could hear cheering.
He lifted himself upon his
toes and looked in the direction
of the fight. A yellow fog lay
wal- lowing on the treetops.
From beneath it came the clatter
of musketry. Hoarse cries told
of an advance.
He turned away amazed and angry.
He felt that he had been wronged.
He had fled, he told himself,
because annihila- tion approached.
He had done a good part in saving
himself, who was a little piece
of the army. He had considered
the time, he said, to be one
in which it was the duty of every
little piece to res- cue itself
if possible. Later the officers
could fit the little pieces together
again, and make a battle front.
If none of the little pieces
were wise enough to save themselves
from the flurry of death at such
75 a time, why, then, where
would be the army? It was all
plain that he had proceeded according
to very correct and commendable
rules. His ac- tions had been
sagacious things. They had been
full of strategy. They were the
work of a mas- ter's legs.
Thoughts of his comrades came
to him. The brittle blue line
had withstood the blows and won.
He grew bitter over it. It seemed
that the blind ignorance and
stupidity of those little pieces
had betrayed him. He had been
overturned and crushed by their
lack of sense in holding the
po- sition, when intelligent
deliberation would have convinced
them that it was impossible.
He, the enlightened man who looks
afar in the dark, had fled because
of his superior perceptions and
knowledge. He felt a great anger
against his comrades. He knew
it could be proved that they
had been fools.
He wondered what they would
remark when later he appeared
in camp. His mind heard howls
of derision. Their density would
not en- able them to understand
his sharper point of view.
He began to pity himself acutely.
He was ill used. He was trodden
beneath the feet of an iron injustice.
He had proceeded with wisdom
and from the most righteous motives
under heaven's blue only to be
frustrated by hateful circumstances.
A dull, animal-like rebellion
against his fel- lows, war in
the abstract, and fate grew within
him. He shambled along with bowed
head, his brain in a tumult of
agony and despair. When he looked
loweringly up, quivering at each
sound, his eyes had the expression
of those of a criminal who thinks
his guilt and his pun- ishment
great, and knows that he can
find no words.
He went from the fields into
a thick woods, as if resolved
to bury himself. He wished to
get out of hearing of the crackling
shots which were to him like
voices.
The ground was cluttered with
vines and bushes, and the trees
grew close and spread out like
bouquets. He was obliged to force
his way with much noise. The
creepers, catching against his
legs, cried out harshly as their
sprays were torn from the barks
of trees. The swishing sap- lings
tried to make known his presence
to the world. He could not conciliate
the forest. As he made his way,
it was always calling out prot-
estations. When he separated
embraces of trees and vines the
disturbed foliages waved their
arms and turned their face leaves
toward him. He dreaded lest these
noisy motions and cries should
bring men to look at him. So
he went far, seek- ing dark and
intricate places.
After a time the sound of musketry
grew faint and the cannon boomed
in the distance. The sun, suddenly
apparent, blazed among the trees.
The insects were making rhythmical
noises. They seemed to be grinding
their teeth in unison. A woodpecker
stuck his impudent head around
the side of a tree. A bird flew
on lighthearted wing.
Off was the rumble of death.
It seemed now that Nature had
no ears.
This landscape gave him assurance.
A fair field holding life. It
was the religion of peace. It
would die if its timid eyes were
compelled to see blood. He conceived
Nature to be a woman with a deep
aversion to tragedy.
He threw a pine cone at a jovial
squirrel, and he ran with chattering
fear. High in a treetop he stopped,
and, poking his head cautiously
from behind a branch, looked
down with an air of trepi- dation.
The youth felt triumphant at
this exhibition. There was the
law, he said. Nature had given
him a sign. The squirrel, immediately
upon rec- ognizing danger, had
taken to his legs without ado.
He did not stand stolidly baring
his furry belly to the missile,
and die with an upward glance
at the sympathetic heavens. On
the con- trary, he had fled as
fast as his legs could carry
him; and he was but an ordinary
squirrel, too-- doubtless no
philosopher of his race. The
youth wended, feeling that Nature
was of his mind. She re-enforced
his argument with proofs that
lived where the sun shone.
Once he found himself almost
into a swamp. He was obliged
to walk upon bog tufts and watch
his feet to keep from the oily
mire. Paus- ing at one time to
look about him he saw, out at
some black water, a small animal
pounce in and emerge directly
with a gleaming fish.
The youth went again into the
deep thickets. The brushed branches
made a noise that drowned the
sounds of cannon. He walked on,
going from obscurity into promises
of a greater obscurity.
At length he reached a place
where the high, arching boughs
made a chapel. He softly pushed
the green doors aside and entered.
Pine needles were a gentle brown
carpet. There was a reli- gious
half light.
Near the threshold he stopped,
horror-stricken at the sight
of a thing.
He was being looked at by a
dead man who was seated with
his back against a columnlike
tree. The corpse was dressed
in a uniform that once had been
blue, but was now faded to a
mel- ancholy shade of green.
The eyes, staring at the youth,
had changed to the dull hue to
be seen on the side of a dead
fish. The mouth was open. Its
red had changed to an appalling
yellow. Over the gray skin of
the face ran little ants. One
was trundling some sort of a
bundle along the upper lip.
The youth gave a shriek as
he confronted the thing. He was
for moments turned to stone be-
fore it. He remained staring
into the liquid-look- ing eyes.
The dead man and the living man
ex- changed a long look. Then
the youth cautiously put one
hand behind him and brought it
against a tree. Leaning upon
this he retreated, step by step,
with his face still toward the
thing. He feared that if he turned
his back the body might spring
up and stealthily pursue him.
The branches, pushing against
him, threat- ened to throw him
over upon it. His unguided feet,
too, caught aggravatingly in
brambles; and with it all he
received a subtle suggestion
to touch the corpse. As he thought
of his hand upon it he shuddered
profoundly.
At last he burst the bonds
which had fastened him to the
spot and fled, unheeding the
under- brush. He was pursued
by a sight of the black ants
swarming greedily upon the gray
face and venturing horribly near
to the eyes.
After a time he paused, and,
breathless and panting, listened.
He imagined some strange voice
would come from the dead throat
and squawk after him in horrible
menaces.
The trees about the portal
of the chapel moved soughingly
in a soft wind. A sad silence
was upon the little guarding
edifice.
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