THE cold passed reluctantly from the earth,and the retiring fogs revealed an army stretchedout on the hills, resting. As the landscapechanged from brown to green, the army awak-ened, and began to tremble with eagerness at thenoise of rumors. It cast its eyes upon the roads,which were growing from long troughs of liquidmud to proper thoroughfares. A river, amber-tinted in the shadow of its banks, purled at thearmy's feet; and at night, when the stream hadbecome of a sorrowful blackness, one could seeacross it the red, eyelike gleam of hostile camp-fires set in the low brows of distant hills.

Once a certain tall soldier developed virtuesand went resolutely to wash a shirt. He cameflying back from a brook waving his garmentbannerlike. He was swelled with a tale he hadheard from a reliable friend, who had heard itfrom a truthful cavalryman, who had heard itfrom his trustworthy brother, one of the order-lies at division headquarters. He adopted theimportant air of a herald in red and gold."We're goin' t' move t' morrah--sure," hesaid pompously to a group in the companystreet. "We're goin' 'way up the river, cutacross, an' come around in behint 'em."

To his attentive audience he drew a loudand elaborate plan of a very brilliant campaign.When he had finished, the blue-clothed menscattered into small arguing groups between therows of squat brown huts. A negro teamster whohad been dancing upon a cracker box with thehilarious encouragement of twoscore soldierswas deserted. He sat mournfully down. Smokedrifted lazily from a multitude of quaint chim-neys.

"It's a lie! that's all it is--a thunderin' lie!"said another private loudly. His smooth face wasflushed, and his hands were thrust sulkily into histrousers' pockets. He took the matter as anaffront to him. "I don't believe the derned oldarmy's ever going to move. We're set. I'vegot ready to move eight times in the last twoweeks, and we ain't moved yet."

The tall soldier felt called upon to defendthe truth of a rumor he himself had intro-duced. He and the loud one came near to fight-ing over it.

A corporal began to swear before the assem-blage. He had just put a costly board floor inhis house, he said. During the early spring hehad refrained from adding extensively to thecomfort of his environment because he had feltthat the army might start on the march at anymoment. Of late, however, he had been im-pressed that they were in a sort of eternal camp.

Many of the men engaged in a spirited debate.One outlined in a peculiarly lucid manner all theplans of the commanding general. He was op-posed by men who advocated that there wereother plans of campaign. They clamored at eachother, numbers making futile bids for the pop-ular attention. Meanwhile, the soldier who hadfetched the rumor bustled about with muchimportance. He was continually assailed byquestions.

"What's up, Jim?"

"Th' army's goin' t' move."

"Ah, what yeh talkin' about? How yeh knowit is?"

"Well, yeh kin b'lieve me er not, jest as yehlike. I don't care a hang."

There was much food for thought in the man-ner in which he replied. He came near to con-vincing them by disdaining to produce proofs.They grew excited over it.

There was a youthful private who listenedwith eager ears to the words of the tall soldierand to the varied comments of his comrades.After receiving a fill of discussions concerningmarches and attacks, he went to his hut andcrawled through an intricate hole that served itas a door. He wished to be alone with somenew thoughts that had lately come to him.

He lay down on a wide bank that stretchedacross the end of the room. In the other end,cracker boxes were made to serve as furniture.They were grouped about the fireplace. A pic-ture from an illustrated weekly was upon the logwalls, and three rifles were paralleled on pegs.Equipments hunt on handy projections, and sometin dishes lay upon a small pile of firewood. Afolded tent was serving as a roof. The sunlight,without, beating upon it, made it glow a lightyellow shade. A small window shot an obliquesquare of whiter light upon the cluttered floor.The smoke from the fire at times neglected theclay chimney and wreathed into the room, andthis flimsy chimney of clay and sticks made end-less threats to set ablaze the whole establishment.

The youth was in a little trance of astonish-ment. So they were at last going to fight. Onthe morrow, perhaps, there would be a battle, andhe would be in it. For a time he was obligedto labor to make himself believe. He could notaccept with assurance an omen that he was aboutto mingle in one of those great affairs of the earth.

He had, of course, dreamed of battles allhis life--of vague and bloody conflicts that hadthrilled him with their sweep and fire. In visionshe had seen himself in many struggles. He hadimagined peoples secure in the shadow of hiseagle-eyed prowess. But awake he had regardedbattles as crimson blotches on the pages of thepast. He had put them as things of the bygonewith his thought-images of heavy crowns andhigh castles. There was a portion of the world'shistory which he had regarded as the time ofwars, but it, he thought, had been long gone overthe horizon and had disappeared forever.

From his home his youthful eyes had lookedupon the war in his own country with distrust.It must be some sort of a play affair. He hadlong despaired of witnessing a Greeklike struggle.Such would be no more, he had said. Men werebetter, or more timid. Secular and religiouseducation had effaced the throat-grappling in-stinct, or else firm finance held in check the pas-sions.

He had burned several times to enlist. Talesof great movements shook the land. They mightnot be distinctly Homeric, but there seemed tobe 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 picturesextravagant in color, lurid with breathless deeds.

But his mother had discouraged him. Shehad affected to look with some contempt uponthe quality of his war ardor and patriotism. Shecould calmly seat herself and with no apparentdifficulty give him many hundreds of reasonswhy he was of vastly more importance on thefarm than on the field of battle. She had hadcertain ways of expression that told him that herstatements on the subject came from a deep con-viction. Moreover, on her side, was his beliefthat her ethical motive in the argument wasimpregnable.

At last, however, he had made firm rebellionagainst this yellow light thrown upon the color ofhis ambitions. The newspapers, the gossip of thevillage, his own picturings had aroused him toan uncheckable degree. They were in truthfighting finely down there. Almost every daythe newspapers printed accounts of a decisivevictory.

One night, as he lay in bed, the winds hadcarried to him the clangoring of the church bellas some enthusiast jerked the rope frantically totell the twisted news of a great battle. Thisvoice of the people rejoicing in the night hadmade him shiver in a prolonged ecstasy of ex-citement. Later, he had gone down to hismother's room and had spoken thus: "Ma, I'mgoing to enlist."

"Henry, don't you be a fool," his mother hadreplied. She had then covered her face with thequilt. There was an end to the matter for thatnight.

Nevertheless, the next morning he had goneto a town that was near his mother's farm andhad enlisted in a company that was forming there.When he had returned home his mother wasmilking the brindle cow. Four others stoodwaiting. "Ma, I've enlisted," he had said to herdiffidently. There was a short silence. "TheLord's will be done, Henry," she had finallyreplied, and had then continued to milk thebrindle cow.

When he had stood in the doorway with hissoldier's clothes on his back, and with the light ofexcitement and expectancy in his eyes almostdefeating the glow of regret for the home bonds,he had seen two tears leaving their trails on hismother's scarred cheeks.

Still, she had disappointed him by sayingnothing whatever about returning with his shieldor on it. He had privately primed himself for abeautiful scene. He had prepared certain sen-tences which he thought could be used withtouching effect. But her words destroyed hisplans. She had doggedly peeled potatoes andaddressed him as follows: "You watch out,Henry, an' take good care of yerself in this herefighting business--you watch out, an' take goodcare of yerself. Don't go a-thinkin' you canlick the hull rebel army at the start, because yehcan't. Yer jest one little feller amongst a hull lotof others, and yeh've got to keep quiet an' do whatthey tell yeh. I know how you are, Henry.

"I've knet yeh eight pair of socks, Henry, andI've put in all yer best shirts, because I want myboy to be jest as warm and comf'able as anybodyin the army. Whenever they get holes in 'em, Iwant yeh to send 'em right-away back to me, so'sI kin dern 'em.

"An' allus be careful an' choose yer comp'ny.There's lots of bad men in the army, Henry.The army makes 'em wild, and they like nothingbetter than the job of leading off a young fellerlike you, as ain't never been away from homemuch and has allus had a mother, an' a-learning'em to drink and swear. Keep clear of themfolks, Henry. I don't want yeh to ever do any-thing, Henry, that yeh would be 'shamed to letme know about. Jest think as if I was a-watchin'yeh. If yeh keep that in yer mind allus, I guessyeh'll come out about right.

"Yeh must allus remember yer father, too,child, an' remember he never drunk a drop oflicker in his life, and seldom swore a cross oath.

"I don'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 whenyeh have to be kilt or do a mean thing, why,Henry, don't think of anything 'cept what's right,because there's many a woman has to bear up'ginst sech things these times, and the Lord 'lltake keer of us all.

"Don't forgit about the socks and the shirts,child; and I've put a cup of blackberry jam withyer bundle, because I know yeh like it above allthings. Good-by, Henry. Watch out, and be agood boy."

He had, of course, been impatient under theordeal of this speech. It had not been quite whathe expected, and he had borne it with an air ofirritation. He departed feeling vague relief.

Still, when he had looked back from the gate,he had seen his mother kneeling among the po-tato parings. Her brown face, upraised, wasstained with tears, and her spare form was quiver-ing. He bowed his head and went on, feelingsuddenly ashamed of his purposes.

From his home he had gone to the seminaryto bid adieu to many schoolmates. They hadthronged about him with wonder and admiration.He had felt the gulf now between them and hadswelled with calm pride. He and some of hisfellows who had donned blue were quite over-whelmed with privileges for all of one afternoon,and it had been a very delicious thing. They hadstrutted.

A certain light-haired girl had made vivaciousfun at his martial spirit, but there was another anddarker girl whom he had gazed at steadfastly, andhe thought she grew demure and sad at sight ofhis blue and brass. As he had walked down thepath between the rows of oaks, he had turned hishead and detected her at a window watching hisdeparture. As he perceived her, she had im-mediately begun to stare up through the hightree branches at the sky. He had seen a gooddeal of flurry and haste in her movement as shechanged her attitude. He often thought of it.

On the way to Washington his spirit hadsoared. The regiment was fed and caressed atstation after station until the youth had believedthat he must be a hero. There was a lavish ex-penditure of bread and cold meats, coffee, andpickles and cheese. As he basked in the smilesof the girls and was patted and complimented bythe old men, he had felt growing within him thestrength to do mighty deeds of arms.

After complicated journeyings with manypauses, there had come months of monotonouslife in a camp. He had had the belief that realwar was a series of death struggles with smalltime in between for sleep and meals; but since hisregiment had come to the field the army had donelittle but sit still and try to keep warm.

He was brought then gradually back to his oldideas. Greeklike struggles would be no more.Men were better, or more timid. Secular andreligious education had effaced the throat-grap-pling instinct, or else firm finance held in checkthe passions.

He had grown to regard himself merely as apart of a vast blue demonstration. His provincewas to look out, as far as he could, for his per-sonal comfort. For recreation he could twiddlehis thumbs and speculate on the thoughts whichmust agitate the minds of the generals. Also, hewas drilled and drilled and reviewed, and drilledand drilled and reviewed.

The only foes he had seen were some picketsalong the river bank. They were a sun-tanned,philosophical lot, who sometimes shot reflectivelyat the blue pickets. When reproached for thisafterward, they usually expressed sorrow, andswore by their gods that the guns had explodedwithout their permission. The youth, on guardduty one night, conversed across the stream withone of them. He was a slightly ragged man, whospat skillfully between his shoes and possessed agreat fund of bland and infantile assurance. Theyouth liked him personally.

"Yank," the other had informed him, "yer aright dum good feller." This sentiment, floatingto him upon the still air, had made him tempo-rarily regret war.

Various veterans had told him tales. Sometalked of gray, bewhiskered hordes who wereadvancing with relentless curses and chewingtobacco with unspeakable valor; tremendousbodies of fierce soldiery who were sweepingalong like the Huns. Others spoke of tatteredand eternally hungry men who fired despondentpowders. "They'll charge through hell's fire an'brimstone t' git a holt on a haversack, an' sechstomachs ain't a-lastin' long," he was told. Fromthe stories, the youth imagined the red, live bonessticking out through slits in the faded uniforms.

Still, he could not put a whole faith in veter-ans' tales, for recruits were their prey. Theytalked much of smoke, fire, and blood, but hecould not tell how much might be lies. Theypersistently yelled "Fresh fish!" at him, and werein no wise to be trusted.

However, he perceived now that it did notgreatly matter what kind of soldiers he was goingto fight, so long as they fought, which fact no onedisputed. There was a more serious problem. Helay in his bunk pondering upon it. He tried tomathematically prove to himself that he wouldnot run from a battle.

Previously he had never felt obliged to wrestletoo seriously with this question. In his life he hadtaken certain things for granted, never challeng-ing his belief in ultimate success, and botheringlittle about means and roads. But here he wasconfronted with a thing of moment. It had sud-denly appeared to him that perhaps in a battle hemight run. He was forced to admit that as far aswar was concerned he knew nothing of himself.

A sufficient time before he would have allowedthe problem to kick its heels at the outer portalsof his mind, but now he felt compelled to giveserious attention to it.

A little panic-fear grew in his mind. As hisimagination went forward to a fight, he saw hide-ous possibilities. He contemplated the lurkingmenaces of the future, and failed in an effort tosee himself standing stoutly in the midst of them.He recalled his visions of broken-bladed glory,but in the shadow of the impending tumult hesuspected them to be impossible pictures.

He sprang from the bunk and began to pacenervously to and fro. "Good Lord, what's th'matter with me?" he said aloud.

He felt that in this crisis his laws of life wereuseless. Whatever he had learned of himself washere of no avail. He was an unknown quantity.He saw that he would again be obliged to experi-ment as he had in early youth. He must accumu-late information of himself, and meanwhile he re-solved to remain close upon his guard lest thosequalities of which he knew nothing should ever-lastingly disgrace him. "Good Lord!" he re-peated in dismay.

After a time the tall soldier slid dexterouslythrough the hole. The loud private followed.They were wrangling.

"That's all right," said the tall soldier as heentered. He waved his hand expressively. "Youcan believe me or not, jest as you like. All yougot to do is to sit down and wait as quiet as youcan. Then pretty soon you'll find out I was right."

His comrade grunted stubbornly. For a mo-ment he seemed to be searching for a formidablereply. Finally he said: "Well, you don't knoweverything in the world, do you?"

"Didn't say I knew everything in the world,"retorted the other sharply. He began to stowvarious articles snugly into his knapsack.

The youth, pausing in his nervous walk, lookeddown at the busy figure. "Going to be a battle,sure, is there, Jim?" he asked.

"Of course there is," replied the tall soldier."Of course there is. You jest wait 'til to-morrow,and you'll see one of the biggest battles ever was.You jest wait."

"Thunder!der!" said the youth.

"Oh, you'll see fighting this time, my boy,what'll be regular out-and-out fighting," addedthe tall soldier, with the air of a man who isabout to exhibit a battle for the benefit of hisfriends.

"Huh!" said the loud one from a corner.

"Well," remarked the youth, "like as not thisstory'll turn out jest like them others did."

"Not much it won't," replied the tall soldier,exasperated. "Not much it won't. Didn't thecavalry all start this morning?" He glared abouthim. No one denied his statement. "The cav-alry started this morning," he continued. "Theysay there ain't hardly any cavalry left in camp.They're going to Richmond, or some place, whilewe fight all the Johnnies. It's some dodge likethat. The regiment's got orders, too. A fellerwhat seen 'em go to headquarters told me a littlewhile ago. And they're raising blazes all overcamp--anybody can see that."

"Shucks!" said the loud one.

The youth remained silent for a time. At lasthe spoke to the tall soldier. "Jim!"

"What?"

"How do you think the reg'ment 'll do?"

"Oh, they'll fight all right, I guess, after theyonce get into it," said the other with cold judg-ment. He made a fine use of the third person."There's been heaps of fun poked at 'em becausethey're new, of course, and all that; but they'llfight all right, I guess."

"Think any of the boys 'll run?" persisted theyouth.

"Oh, there may be a few of 'em run, butthere's them kind in every regiment, 'speciallywhen they first goes under fire," said the otherin a tolerant way. "Of course it might happenthat the hull kit-and-boodle might start and run,if some big fighting came first-off, and then againthey might stay and fight like fun. But you can'tbet on nothing. Of course they ain't never beenunder fire yet, and it ain't likely they'll lick thehull rebel army all-to-oncet the first time; but Ithink they'll fight better than some, if worse thanothers. That's the way I figger. They call thereg'ment 'Fresh fish' and everything; but theboys come of good stock, and most of 'em 'll fightlike sin after they oncet git shootin'," he added,with a mighty emphasis on the last four words.

"Oh, you think you know--" began the loudsoldier with scorn.

The other turned savagely upon him. Theyhad a rapid altercation, in which they fastenedupon each other various strange epithets.

The youth at last interrupted them. "Didyou ever think you might run yourself, Jim?" heasked. On concluding the sentence he laughedas if he had meant to aim a joke. The loud sol-dier also giggled.

The tall private waved his hand. "Well," saidhe profoundly, "I've thought it might get too hotfor Jim Conklin in some of them scrimmages, andif a whole lot of boys started and run, why, Is'pose I'd start and run. And if I once started torun, I'd run like the devil, and no mistake. Butif everybody was a-standing and a-fighting, why,I'd stand and fight. Be jiminey, I would. I'llbet on it."

"Huh!" said the loud one.

The youth of this tale felt gratitude for thesewords of his comrade. He had feared that all ofthe untried men possessed a great and correctconfidence. He now was in a measure reassured.