WHEN the youth awoke it seemed
to him that he had been asleep
for a thousand years, and he
felt sure that he opened his
eyes upon an unex- pected world.
Gray mists were slowly shifting
before the first efforts of the
sun rays. An im- pending splendor
could be seen in the eastern
sky. An icy dew had chilled his
face, and im- mediately upon
arousing he curled farther down
into his blanket. He stared for
a while at the leaves overhead,
moving in a heraldic wind of
the day.
The distance was splintering
and blaring with the noise of
fighting. There was in the sound
an expression of a deadly persistency,
as if it had not begun and was
not to cease.
About him were the rows and
groups of men that he had dimly
seen the previous night. They
were getting a last draught of
sleep before the awakening. The
gaunt, careworn features and
dusty figures were made plain
by this quaint
139 light at the dawning, but
it dressed the skin of the men
in corpselike hues and made the
tangled limbs appear pulseless
and dead. The youth started up
with a little cry when his eyes
first swept over this motionless
mass of men, thick- spread upon
the ground, pallid, and in strange
postures. His disordered mind
interpreted the hall of the forest
as a charnel place. He believed
for an instant that he was in
the house of the dead, and he
did not dare to move lest these
corpses start up, squalling and
squawking. In a second, however,
he achieved his proper mind.
He swore a complicated oath at
himself. He saw that this somber
picture was not a fact of the
present, but a mere prophecy.
He heard then the noise of
a fire crackling briskly in the
cold air, and, turning his head,
he saw his friend pottering busily
about a small blaze. A few other
figures moved in the fog, and
he heard the hard cracking of
axe blows.
Suddenly there was a hollow
rumble of drums. A distant bugle
sang faintly. Similar sounds,
varying in strength, came from
near and far over the forest.
The bugles called to each other
like brazen gamecocks. The near
thunder of the regimental drums
rolled.
The body of men in the woods
rustled. There was a general
uplifting of heads. A murmuring
of voices broke upon the air.
In it there was much bass of
grumbling oaths. Strange gods
were addressed in condemnation
of the early hours necessary
to correct war. An officer's
peremptory tenor rang out and
quickened the stiffened movement
of the men. The tangled limbs
unraveled. The corpse-hued faces
were hidden behind fists that
twisted slowly in the eye sockets.
The youth sat
up and gave vent to an enormous
yawn. "Thunder!" he
remarked petulantly. He rubbed
his eyes, and then putting up
his hand felt carefully of the
bandage over his wound. His friend,
perceiving him to be awake, came
from the fire. "Well, Henry,
ol' man, how do yeh feel this
mornin'?" he demanded.
The youth yawned again. Then
he puckered his mouth to a little
pucker. His head, in truth, felt
precisely like a melon, and there
was an un- pleasant sensation
at his stomach.
"Oh, Lord, I feel pretty bad," he
said.
"Thunder!" exclaimed the other. "I
hoped ye'd feel all right this
mornin'. Let's see th' bandage--I
guess it's slipped." He began
to tinker at the wound in rather
a clumsy way until the youth
exploded.
"Gosh-dern it!" he said in
sharp irritation; "you're the
hangdest man I ever saw! You
wear muffs on your hands. Why
in good thunderation can't you
be more easy? I'd rather you'd
stand off an' throw guns at it.
Now, go slow, an' don't act as
if you was nailing down carpet."
He glared with
insolent command at his friend,
but the latter
answered soothingly. "Well, well,
come now, an' git some grub," he
said. "Then, maybe, yeh'll feel
better."
At the fireside the loud young
soldier watched over his comrade's
wants with tender- ness and care.
He was very busy marshaling the
little black vagabonds of tin
cups and pour- ing into them
the streaming, iron colored mixture
from a small and sooty tin pail.
He had some fresh meat, which
he roasted hurriedly upon a stick.
He sat down then and contemplated
the youth's appetite with glee.
The youth took note of a remarkable
change in his comrade since those
days of camp life upon the river
bank. He seemed no more to be
con- tinually regarding the proportions
of his personal prowess. He was
not furious at small words that
pricked his conceits. He was
no more a loud young soldier.
There was about him now a fine
reliance. He showed a quiet belief
in his purposes and his abilities.
And this in- ward confidence
evidently enabled him to be indifferent
to little words of other men
aimed at him.
The youth reflected. He had
been used to regarding his comrade
as a blatant child with an audacity
grown from his inexperience,
thought- less, headstrong, jealous,
and filled with a tinsel courage.
A swaggering babe accustomed
to strut in his own dooryard.
The youth wondered where had
been born these new eyes; when
his comrade had made the great
discovery that there were many
men who would refuse to be subjected
by him. Apparently, the other
had now climbed a peak of wisdom
from which he could perceive
himself as a very wee thing.
And the youth saw that ever after
it would be easier to live in
his friend's neighborhood.
His comrade
balanced his ebony coffee-cup
on his knee. "Well,
Henry," he said, "what d'yeh
think th' chances are? D'yeh
think we'll wal- lop 'em?"
The youth considered
for a moment. "Day- b'fore-yesterday," he
finally replied, with boldness, "you
would 'a' bet you'd lick the
hull kit-an'- boodle all by yourself."
His friend
looked a trifle amazed. "Would I?" he asked.
He pondered. "Well, perhaps I
would," he decided at last. He
stared humbly at the fire.
The youth was
quite disconcerted at this
sur- prising reception
of his remarks. "Oh, no, you
wouldn't either," he said, hastily
trying to re- trace.
But the other
made a deprecating gesture. "Oh, yeh needn't mind,
Henry," he said. "I be- lieve
I was a pretty big fool in those
days." He spoke as after a lapse
of years.
There was a little pause.
"All th' officers say we've
got th' rebs in a pretty tight
box," said the friend, clearing
his throat in a commonplace way. "They
all seem t' think we've got 'em
jest where we want 'em."
"I don't know about that," the
youth replied. "What I seen over
on th' right makes me think it
was th' other way about. From
where I was, it looked as if
we was gettin' a good poundin'
yestirday."
"D'yeh think so?" inquired
the friend. "I thought we handled
'em pretty rough yestir- day."
"Not a bit," said the youth. "Why,
lord, man, you didn't see nothing
of the fight. Why!" Then a sudden
thought came to him. "Oh! Jim
Conklin's dead."
His friend
started. "What?
Is he? Jim Conklin?"
The youth spoke
slowly. "Yes.
He's dead. Shot in th' side."
"Yeh don't
say so. Jim Conklin. . . .
poor cuss!"
All about them were other small
fires sur- rounded by men with
their little black utensils.
From one of these near came sudden
sharp voices in a row. It appeared
that two light- footed soldiers
had been teasing a huge, bearded
man, causing him to spill coffee
upon his blue knees. The man
had gone into a rage and had
sworn comprehensively. Stung
by his language, his tormentors
had immediately bristled at him
with a great show of resenting
unjust oaths. Possibly there
was going to be a fight.
The friend
arose and went over to them,
mak- ing pacific motions
with his arms. "Oh, here, now,
boys, what's th' use?" he said. "We'll
be at th' rebs in less'n an hour.
What's th' good fightin' 'mong
ourselves?"
One of the
light-footed soldiers turned
upon him red-faced and
violent. "Yeh needn't come around
here with yer preachin'. I s'pose
yeh don't approve 'a fightin'
since Charley Morgan licked yeh;
but I don't see what business
this here is 'a yours or anybody
else."
"Well, it ain't," said the
friend mildly. "Still I hate
t' see--"
There was a tangled argument.
"Well, he--," said
the two, indicating their opponent
with
accusative forefingers.
The huge soldier
was quite purple with rage.
He pointed
at the two soldiers with his
great hand, extended clawlike. "Well,
they--"
But during this argumentative
time the de- sire to deal blows
seemed to pass, although they
said much to each other. Finally
the friend re- turned to his
old seat. In a short while the
three antagonists could be seen
together in an amiable bunch.
"Jimmie Rogers ses I'll have
t' fight him after th' battle
t'-day," announced the friend
as he again seated himself. "He
ses he don't allow no interferin'
in his business. I hate t' see
th' boys fightin' 'mong themselves."
The youth laughed. "Yer changed
a good bit. Yeh ain't at all
like yeh was. I remember when
you an' that Irish feller--" He
stopped and laughed again.
"No, I didn't use t' be that
way," said his friend thoughtfully. "That's
true 'nough."
"Well, I didn't mean--" began
the youth.
The friend
made another deprecatory gesture. "Oh,
yeh needn't mind, Henry."
There was another little pause.
"Th' reg'ment lost over half
th' men yestir- day," remarked
the friend eventually. "I thought
a course they was all dead, but,
laws, they kep' a-comin' back
last night until it seems, after
all, we didn't lose but a few.
They'd been scattered all over,
wanderin' around in th' woods,
fightin' with other reg'ments,
an' everything. Jest like you
done."
"So?" said
the youth.
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