THE tattered man stood musing.

"Well, he was reg'lar jim-dandy fer nerve,wa'n't he," said he finally in a little awestruckvoice. "A reg'lar jim-dandy." He thoughtfullypoked one of the docile hands with his foot. "Iwonner where he got 'is stren'th from? I neverseen a man do like that before. It was a funnything. Well, he was a reg'lar jim-dandy."

The youth desired to screech out his grief.He was stabbed, but his tongue lay dead in thetomb of his mouth. He threw himself againupon the ground and began to brood.

The tattered man stood musing.

"Look-a-here, pardner," he said, after a time.He regarded the corpse as he spoke. "He 's upan' gone, ain't 'e, an' we might as well begin t'look out fer ol' number one. This here thing isall over. He 's up an' gone, ain't 'e? An' he 's allright here. Nobody won't bother 'im. An' Imust say I ain't enjoying any great health m'selfthese days."

100

The youth, awakened by the tattered soldier'stone, looked quickly up. He saw that he wasswinging uncertainly on his legs and that his facehad turned to a shade of blue.

"Good Lord!" he cried, "you ain't goin' t'--not you, too."

The tattered man waved his hand. "Narydie," he said. "All I want is some pea soup an'a good bed. Some pea soup," he repeateddreamfully.

The youth arose from the ground. "I wonderwhere he came from. I left him over there."He pointed. "And now I find 'im here. Andhe was coming from over there, too." He in-dicated a new direction. They both turnedtoward the body as if to ask of it a question.

"Well," at length spoke the tattered man,"there ain't no use in our stayin' here an' tryin' t'ask him anything."

The youth nodded an assent wearily. Theyboth turned to gaze for a moment at the corpse.

The youth murmured something.

"Well, he was a jim-dandy, wa'n't 'e?" saidthe tattered man as if in response.

They turned their backs upon it and startedaway. For a time they stole softly, treadingwith their toes. It remained laughing there inthe grass.

"I'm commencin' t' feel pretty bad," said thetattered man, suddenly breaking one of his littlesilences. "I'm commencin' t' feel pretty damn'bad."

The youth groaned. "O Lord!" He won-dered if he was to be the tortured witness ofanother grim encounter.

But his companion waved his hand reassur-ingly. "Oh, I'm not goin' t' die yit! There toomuch dependin' on me fer me t' die yit. No, sir!Nary die! I CAN'T! Ye'd oughta see th' swada' chil'ren I've got, an' all like that."

The youth glancing at his companion couldsee by the shadow of a smile that he was makingsome kind of fun.

As they plodded on the tattered soldier con-tinued to talk. "Besides, if I died, I wouldn'tdie th' way that feller did. That was th' funniestthing. I'd jest flop down, I would. I never seena feller die th' way that feller did.

"Yeh know Tom Jamison, he lives next doort' me up home. He's a nice feller, he is, an' wewas allus good friends. Smart, too. Smart as asteel trap. Well, when we was a-fightin' thisatternoon, all-of-a-sudden he begin t' rip up an'cuss an' beller at me. 'Yer shot, yeh blamedinfernal!'--he swear horrible--he ses t' me. Iput up m' hand t' m' head an' when I looked atm' fingers, I seen, sure 'nough, I was shot. Igive a holler an' begin t' run, but b'fore I couldgit away another one hit me in th' arm an' whirl'me clean 'round. I got skeared when they wasall a-shootin' b'hind me an' I run t' beat all,but I cotch it pretty bad. I've an idee I'da' been fightin' yit, if t'was n't fer Tom Jami-son."

Then he made a calm announcement: "There'stwo of 'em--little ones--but they 're beginnin' t'have fun with me now. I don't b'lieve I kin walkmuch furder."

They went slowly on in silence. "Yeh lookpretty peek-ed yerself," said the tattered man atlast. "I bet yeh 've got a worser one than yehthink. Ye'd better take keer of yer hurt. Itdon't do t' let sech things go. It might be insidemostly, an' them plays thunder. Where is itlocated?" But he continued his harangue with-out waiting for a reply. "I see 'a feller git hitplum in th' head when my reg'ment was a-standin'at ease onct. An' everybody yelled out to 'im:Hurt, John? Are yeh hurt much? 'No," ses he.He looked kinder surprised, an' he went on tellin''em how he felt. He sed he didn't feel nothin'.But, by dad, th' first thing that feller knowed hewas dead. Yes, he was dead--stone dead. So,yeh wanta watch out. Yeh might have somequeer kind 'a hurt yerself. Yeh can't never tell.Where is your'n located?"

The youth had been wriggling since the intro-duction of this topic. He now gave a cry of ex-asperation and made a furious motion with hishand. "Oh, don't bother me!" he said. He wasenraged against the tattered man, and could havestrangled him. His companions seemed ever toplay intolerable parts. They were ever uprais-ing the ghost of shame on the stick of theircuriosity. He turned toward the tattered man asone at bay. "Now, don't bother me," he re-peated with desperate menace.

"Well, Lord knows I don't wanta bother any-body," said the other. There was a little accentof despair in his voice as he replied, "Lordknows I 've gota 'nough m' own t' tend to."

The youth, who had been holding a bitter de-bate with himself and casting glances of hatredand contempt at the tattered man, here spoke ina hard voice. "Good-by," he said.

The tattered man looked at him in gapingamazement. "Why--why, pardner, where yehgoin'?" he asked unsteadily. The youth lookingat him, could see that he, too, like that other one,was beginning to act dumb and animal-like. Histhoughts seemed to be floundering about in hishead. "Now--now--look--a--here, you TomJamison--now--I won't have this--this herewon't do. Where--where yeh goin'?"

The youth pointed vaguely. "Over there,"he replied.

"Well, now look--a--here--now," said thetattered man, rambling on in idiot fashion. Hishead was hanging forward and his words wereslurred. "This thing won't do, now, Tom Jami-son. It won't do. I know yeh, yeh pig-headeddevil. Yeh wanta go trompin' off with a badhurt. It ain't right--now--Tom Jamison--it ain't.Yeh wanta leave me take keer of yeh, Tom Jami-son. It ain't--right--it ain't--fer yeh t' go--trompin' off--with a bad hurt--it ain't--ain't--ain't right--it ain't."

In reply the youth climbed a fence andstarted away. He could hear the tattered manbleating plaintively.

Once he faced about angrily. "What?"

"Look--a--here, now, Tom Jamison--now--it ain't--"

The youth went on. Turning at a distance hesaw the tattered man wandering about helplesslyin the field.

He now thought that he wished he was dead.He believed that he envied those men whosebodies lay strewn over the grass of the fields andon the fallen leaves of the forest.

The simple questions of the tattered man hadbeen knife thrusts to him. They asserted asociety that probes pitilessly at secrets until all isapparent. His late companion's chance persist-ency made him feel that he could not keep hiscrime concealed in his bosom. It was sure to bebrought plain by one of those arrows whichcloud the air and are constantly pricking, dis-covering, proclaiming those things which arewilled to be forever hidden. He admitted thathe could not defend himself against this agency.It was not within the power of vigilance.