THIS advance of the enemy had
seemed to the youth like a ruthless
hunting. He began to fume with
rage and exasperation. He beat
his foot upon the ground, and
scowled with hate at the swirling
smoke that was approaching like
a phan- tom flood. There was
a maddening quality in this seeming
resolution of the foe to give
him no rest, to give him no time
to sit down and think. Yesterday
he had fought and had fled rapidly.
There had been many adventures.
For to-day he felt that he had
earned opportunities for contem-
plative repose. He could have
enjoyed portraying to uninitiated
listeners various scenes at which
he had been a witness or ably
discussing the pro- cesses of
war with other proved men. Too
it was important that he should
have time for physical recuperation.
He was sore and stiff from his
ex- periences. He had received
his fill of all exer- tions,
and he wished to rest.
But those other men seemed
never to grow weary; they were
fighting with their old speed.
163 He had a wild hate for
the relentless foe. Yester- day,
when he had imagined the universe
to be against him, he had hated
it, little gods and big gods;
to-day he hated the army of the
foe with the same great hatred.
He was not going to be badgered
of his life, like a kitten chased
by boys, he said. It was not
well to drive men into final
corners; at those moments they
could all develop teeth and claws.
He leaned and
spoke into his friend's ear.
He menaced the
woods with a gesture. "If they
keep on chasing us, by Gawd,
they'd better watch out. Can't
stand TOO much."
The friend
twisted his head and made a
calm reply. "If they
keep on a-chasin' us they'll
drive us all inteh th' river."
The youth cried out savagely
at this state- ment. He crouched
behind a little tree, with his
eyes burning hatefully and his
teeth set in a cur- like snarl.
The awkward bandage was still
about his head, and upon it,
over his wound, there was a spot
of dry blood. His hair was wondrously
tousled, and some straggling,
moving locks hung over the cloth
of the bandage down toward his
forehead. His jacket and shirt
were open at the throat, and
exposed his young bronzed neck.
There could be seen spasmodic
gulpings at his throat.
His fingers twined nervously
about his rifle. He wished that
it was an engine of annihilating
power. He felt that he and his
companions were being taunted
and derided from sincere convic-
tions that they were poor and
puny. His knowl- edge of his
inability to take vengeance for
it made his rage into a dark
and stormy specter, that pos-
sessed him and made him dream
of abominable cruelties. The
tormentors were flies sucking
in- solently at his blood, and
he thought that he would have
given his life for a revenge
of seeing their faces in pitiful
plights.
The winds of battle had swept
all about the regiment, until
the one rifle, instantly followed
by others, flashed in its front.
A moment later the regiment roared
forth its sudden and valiant
re- tort. A dense wall of smoke
settled slowly down. It was furiously
slit and slashed by the knifelike
fire from the rifles.
To the youth the fighters resembled
animals tossed for a death struggle
into a dark pit. There was a
sensation that he and his fellows,
at bay, were pushing back, always
pushing fierce on- slaughts of
creatures who were slippery.
Their beams of crimson seemed
to get no purchase upon the bodies
of their foes; the latter seemed
to evade them with ease, and
come through, between, around,
and about with unopposed skill.
When, in a dream, it occurred
to the youth that his rifle was
an impotent stick, he lost sense
of everything but his hate, his
desire to smash into pulp the
glittering smile of victory which
he could feel upon the faces
of his enemies.
The blue smoke-swallowed line
curled and writhed like a snake
stepped upon. It swung its ends
to and fro in an agony of fear
and rage.
The youth was not conscious
that he was erect upon his feet.
He did not know the direction
of the ground. Indeed, once he
even lost the habit of balance
and fell heavily. He was up again
immediately. One thought went
through the chaos of his brain
at the time. He wondered if he
had fallen because he had been
shot. But the suspicion flew
away at once. He did not think
more of it.
He had taken up a first position
behind the lit- tle tree, with
a direct determination to hold
it against the world. He had
not deemed it possi- ble that
his army could that day succeed,
and from this he felt the ability
to fight harder. But the throng
had surged in all ways, until
he lost directions and locations,
save that he knew where lay the
enemy.
The flames bit him, and the
hot smoke broiled his skin. His
rifle barrel grew so hot that
ordi- narily he could not have
borne it upon his palms; but
he kept on stuffing cartridges
into it, and pounding them with
his clanking, bending ram- rod.
If he aimed at some changing
form through the smoke, he pulled
his trigger with a fierce grunt,
as if he were dealing a blow
of the fist with all his strength.
When the enemy seemed falling
back before him and his fellows,
he went instantly forward, like
a dog who, seeing his foes lagging,
turns and insists upon being
pursued. And when he was compelled
to retire again, he did it slowly,
sul- lenly, taking steps of wrathful
despair.
Once he, in his intent hate,
was almost alone, and was firing,
when all those near him had ceased.
He was so engrossed in his occupation
that he was not aware of a lull.
He was recalled
by a hoarse laugh and a sen-
tence that came
to his ears in a voice of contempt
and amazement. "Yeh infernal
fool, don't yeh know enough t'
quit when there ain't anything
t' shoot at? Good Gawd!"
He turned then and, pausing
with his rifle thrown half into
position, looked at the blue
line of his comrades. During
this moment of leisure they seemed
all to be engaged in staring
with astonishment at him. They
had become specta- tors. Turning
to the front again he saw, under
the lifted smoke, a deserted
ground.
He looked bewildered
for a moment. Then there appeared
upon
the glazed vacancy of his eyes
a diamond point of intelligence. "Oh," he
said, comprehending.
He returned to his comrades
and threw him- self upon the
ground. He sprawled like a man
who had been thrashed. His flesh
seemed strange- ly on fire, and
the sounds of the battle continued
in his ears. He groped blindly
for his canteen.
The lieutenant
was crowing. He seemed drunk
with fighting.
He called out to the youth: "By
heavens, if I had ten thousand
wild cats like you I could tear
th' stomach outa this war in
less'n a week!" He puffed out
his chest with large dignity
as he said it.
Some of the men muttered and
looked at the youth in awe-struck
ways. It was plain that as he
had gone on loading and firing
and cursing without the proper
intermission, they had found
time to regard him. And they
now looked upon him as a war
devil.
The friend
came staggering to him. There
was some fright
and dismay in his voice. "Are
yeh all right, Fleming? Do yeh
feel all right? There ain't nothin'
th' matter with yeh, Henry, is
there?"
"No," said
the youth with difficulty.
His throat seemed full of knobs
and burs.
These incidents made the youth
ponder. It was revealed to him
that he had been a barbarian,
a beast. He had fought like a
pagan who de- fends his religion.
Regarding it, he saw that it
was fine, wild, and, in some
ways, easy. He had been a tremendous
figure, no doubt. By this struggle
he had overcome obstacles which
he had admitted to be mountains.
They had fallen like paper peaks,
and he was now what he called
a hero. And he had not been aware
of the pro- cess. He had slept
and, awakening, found him- self
a knight.
He lay and basked in the occasional
stares of his comrades. Their
faces were varied in de- grees
of blackness from the burned
powder. Some were utterly smudged.
They were reek- ing with perspiration,
and their breaths came hard and
wheezing. And from these soiled
ex- panses they peered at him.
"Hot work! Hot work!" cried
the lieu- tenant deliriously.
He walked up and down, restless
and eager. Sometimes his voice
could be heard in a wild, incomprehensible
laugh.
When he had a particularly
profound thought upon the science
of war he always unconsciously
addressed himself to the youth.
There was some
grim rejoicing by the men. "By thunder, I bet
this army'll never see another
new reg'ment like us!" "You bet!"
"A dog, a woman,
an' a walnut tree, Th' more
yeh beat 'em,
th' better they be!
That's like
us."
"Lost a piler
men, they did. If an' ol' woman
swep' up th'
woods she'd git a dustpanful."
"Yes, an' if
she'll come around ag'in in
'bout an' hour she'll
git a pile more."
The forest still bore its burden
of clamor. From off under the
trees came the rolling clatter
of the musketry. Each distant
thicket seemed a strange porcupine
with quills of flame. A cloud
of dark smoke, as from smoldering
ruins, went up toward the sun
now bright and gay in the blue,
enameled sky.
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