THE youth fell back in the procession
until the tattered soldier was
not in sight. Then he started
to walk on with the others.
But he was amid wounds. The
mob of men was bleeding. Because
of the tattered soldier'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.
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 cour- age.
The spectral soldier was at
his side like a stalking reproach.
The man'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.
91 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 look-
ing for a place, like one who
goes to choose a grave.
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's arm. As the latter
slowly turned his waxlike features
toward him, the youth screamed:
"Gawd! Jim
Conklin!"
The tall soldier
made a little commonplace smile. "Hello, Henry," he
said.
The youth swayed
on his legs and glared strangely.
He stuttered
and stammered. "Oh, Jim--oh,
Jim--oh, Jim--"
The tall soldier
held out his gory hand. There
was a curious
red and black combination of
new blood and old blood upon
it. "Where yeh been, Henry?" he
asked. He continued in a monoto-
nous voice, "I thought mebbe
yeh got keeled over. There 's
been thunder t' pay t'-day. I
was worryin' about it a good
deal."
The youth still
lamented. "Oh,
Jim--oh, Jim --oh, Jim--"
"Yeh know," said the tall soldier, "I
was out there." He made a careful
gesture. "An', Lord, what a circus!
An', b'jiminey, I got shot--
I got shot. Yes, b'jiminey, I
got shot." He reiterated this
fact in a bewildered way, as
if he did not know how it came
about.
The youth put forth anxious
arms to assist him, but the tall
soldier went firmly on as if
pro- pelled. Since the youth's
arrival as a guardian for his
friend, the other wounded men
had ceased to display much interest.
They occupied them- selves again
in dragging their own tragedies
toward the rear.
Suddenly, as the two friends
marched on, the tall soldier
seemed to be overcome by a terror.
His face turned to a semblance
of gray paste. He clutched the
youth's arm and looked all about
him, as if dreading to be overheard.
Then he began to speak in a shaking
whisper:
"I tell yeh
what I'm 'fraid of, Henry--I
'll tell yeh what
I 'm 'fraid of. I 'm 'fraid I
'll fall down --an' then yeh
know--them damned artillery wagons--they
like as not 'll run over me.
That 's what I 'm 'fraid of--"
The youth cried
out to him hysterically: "I
'll take care of yeh, Jim!
I'll take care of
yeh! I swear t' Gawd I will!"
"Sure--will yeh, Henry?" the
tall soldier beseeched.
"Yes--yes--I tell yeh--I'll
take care of yeh, Jim!" protested
the youth. He could not speak
accurately because of the gulpings
in his throat.
But the tall
soldier continued to beg in
a lowly way. He now
hung babelike to the youth's
arm. His eyes rolled in the wildness
of his terror. "I was allus a
good friend t' yeh, wa'n't I,
Henry? I 've allus been a pretty
good feller, ain't I? An' it
ain't much t' ask, is it? Jest
t' pull me along outer th' road?
I 'd do it fer you, Wouldn't
I, Henry?"
He paused in piteous anxiety
to await his friend's reply.
The youth had reached an anguish
where the sobs scorched him.
He strove to express his loyalty,
but he could only make fantastic
gestures.
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. "No--no--no-- leave
me be--leave me be--"
His look was
fixed again upon the unknown.
He moved with mysterious
purpose, and all of the youth's
offers he brushed aside. "No--no--
leave me be--leave me be--"
The youth had to follow.
Presently the
latter heard a voice talking
softly near his
shoulders. Turning he saw that
it belonged to the tattered soldier. "Ye
'd better take 'im outa th' road,
pardner. There 's a batt'ry comin'
helitywhoop down th' road an'
he 'll git runned over. He 's
a goner anyhow in about five
minutes--yeh kin see that. Ye
'd better take 'im outa th' road.
Where th' blazes does he git
his stren'th from?"
"Lord knows!" cried
the youth. He was shaking his
hands helplessly.
He ran forward
presently and grasped the tall
soldier by the
arm. "Jim! Jim!" he coaxed, "come
with me."
The tall soldier
weakly tried to wrench himself
free. "Huh," he
said vacantly. He stared at the
youth for a moment. At last he
spoke as if dimly comprehending. "Oh!
Inteh th' fields? Oh!"
He started blindly through
the grass.
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.
"Gawd! He's
runnin'!"
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.
When he overtook
the tall soldier he began to
plead with all the
words he could find. "Jim --Jim--what
are you doing--what makes you
do this way--you 'll hurt yerself."
The same purpose
was in the tall soldier's face.
He protested
in a dulled way, keeping his
eyes fastened on the mystic place
of his intentions. "No--no--don't
tech me--leave me be--leave me
be--"
The youth,
aghast and filled with wonder
at the tall soldier,
began quaveringly to question
him. "Where yeh goin', Jim? What
you thinking about? Where you
going? Tell me, won't you, Jim?"
The tall soldier
faced about as upon relentless
pursuers.
In his eyes there was a great
appeal. "Leave me be, can't yeh?
Leave me be fer a minnit."
The youth recoiled. "Why, Jim," he
said, in a dazed way, "what's
the matter with you?"
The tall soldier turned and,
lurching danger- ously, 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-wrench- ing, bone-crushing.
They were awed and afraid. They
hung back lest he have at command
a dreadful weapon.
At last, they saw him stop
and stand motion- less. 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, ex- pectant.
There was a silence.
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.
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.
"Jim--Jim--Jim--"
The tall soldier
opened his lips and spoke.
He made a gesture. "Leave
me be--don't tech me--leave me
be--"
There was another silence while
he waited.
Suddenly, his form stiffened
and straightened. Then it was
shaken by 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.
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.
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 man- ner
of a falling tree. A swift muscular
contortion made the left shoulder
strike the ground first.
The body seemed
to bounce a little way from
the earth. "God!" said
the tattered soldier.
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.
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.
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.
The youth turned, with sudden,
livid rage, toward the battlefield.
He shook his fist. He seemed
about to deliver a philippic.
"Hell--"
The red sun was pasted in the
sky like a wafer.
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