THIS advance of the enemy had seemed to theyouth like a ruthless hunting. He began to fumewith rage and exasperation. He beat his footupon the ground, and scowled with hate at theswirling smoke that was approaching like a phan-tom flood. There was a maddening quality inthis seeming resolution of the foe to give him norest, 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 hefelt that he had earned opportunities for contem-plative repose. He could have enjoyed portrayingto uninitiated listeners various scenes at which hehad been a witness or ably discussing the pro-cesses of war with other proved men. Too it wasimportant that he should have time for physicalrecuperation. 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 growweary; they were fighting with their old speed.

163He had a wild hate for the relentless foe. Yester-day, when he had imagined the universe to beagainst him, he had hated it, little gods and biggods; to-day he hated the army of the foe withthe same great hatred. He was not going to bebadgered of his life, like a kitten chased by boys,he said. It was not well to drive men into finalcorners; at those moments they could all developteeth and claws.

He leaned and spoke into his friend's ear. Hemenaced the woods with a gesture. "If theykeep on chasing us, by Gawd, they'd better watchout. Can't stand TOO much."

The friend twisted his head and made a calmreply. "If they keep on a-chasin' us they'll driveus all inteh th' river."

The youth cried out savagely at this state-ment. He crouched behind a little tree, with hiseyes burning hatefully and his teeth set in a cur-like snarl. The awkward bandage was still abouthis head, and upon it, over his wound, there wasa spot of dry blood. His hair was wondrouslytousled, and some straggling, moving locks hungover the cloth of the bandage down toward hisforehead. His jacket and shirt were open at thethroat, and exposed his young bronzed neck.There could be seen spasmodic gulpings at histhroat.

His fingers twined nervously about his rifle.He wished that it was an engine of annihilatingpower. He felt that he and his companions werebeing taunted and derided from sincere convic-tions that they were poor and puny. His knowl-edge of his inability to take vengeance for it madehis rage into a dark and stormy specter, that pos-sessed him and made him dream of abominablecruelties. The tormentors were flies sucking in-solently at his blood, and he thought that he wouldhave given his life for a revenge of seeing theirfaces in pitiful plights.

The winds of battle had swept all about theregiment, until the one rifle, instantly followed byothers, flashed in its front. A moment later theregiment roared forth its sudden and valiant re-tort. A dense wall of smoke settled slowly down.It was furiously slit and slashed by the knifelikefire from the rifles.

To the youth the fighters resembled animalstossed for a death struggle into a dark pit. Therewas a sensation that he and his fellows, at bay,were pushing back, always pushing fierce on-slaughts of creatures who were slippery. Theirbeams of crimson seemed to get no purchase uponthe bodies of their foes; the latter seemed to evadethem with ease, and come through, between,around, and about with unopposed skill.

When, in a dream, it occurred to the youththat his rifle was an impotent stick, he lost senseof everything but his hate, his desire to smashinto pulp the glittering smile of victory which hecould feel upon the faces of his enemies.

The blue smoke-swallowed line curled andwrithed like a snake stepped upon. It swung itsends to and fro in an agony of fear and rage.

The youth was not conscious that he was erectupon his feet. He did not know the direction ofthe ground. Indeed, once he even lost the habitof balance and fell heavily. He was up againimmediately. One thought went through thechaos of his brain at the time. He wondered ifhe had fallen because he had been shot. But thesuspicion flew away at once. He did not thinkmore of it.

He had taken up a first position behind the lit-tle tree, with a direct determination to hold itagainst the world. He had not deemed it possi-ble that his army could that day succeed, andfrom this he felt the ability to fight harder. Butthe throng had surged in all ways, until he lostdirections and locations, save that he knew wherelay the enemy.

The flames bit him, and the hot smoke broiledhis 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, andpounding them with his clanking, bending ram-rod. If he aimed at some changing form throughthe smoke, he pulled his trigger with a fiercegrunt, as if he were dealing a blow of the fist withall his strength.

When the enemy seemed falling back beforehim and his fellows, he went instantly forward,like a dog who, seeing his foes lagging, turns andinsists upon being pursued. And when he wascompelled 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 hewas 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 contemptand amazement. "Yeh infernal fool, don't yehknow enough t' quit when there ain't anything t'shoot at? Good Gawd!"

He turned then and, pausing with his riflethrown half into position, looked at the blue lineof his comrades. During this moment of leisurethey seemed all to be engaged in staring withastonishment at him. They had become specta-tors. Turning to the front again he saw, underthe lifted smoke, a deserted ground.

He looked bewildered for a moment. Thenthere appeared upon the glazed vacancy of hiseyes a diamond point of intelligence. "Oh," hesaid, comprehending.

He returned to his comrades and threw him-self upon the ground. He sprawled like a manwho had been thrashed. His flesh seemed strange-ly on fire, and the sounds of the battle continuedin his ears. He groped blindly for his canteen.

The lieutenant was crowing. He seemeddrunk with fighting. He called out to the youth:"By heavens, if I had ten thousand wild cats likeyou I could tear th' stomach outa this war inless'n a week!" He puffed out his chest withlarge dignity as he said it.

Some of the men muttered and looked at theyouth in awe-struck ways. It was plain that ashe had gone on loading and firing and cursingwithout the proper intermission, they had foundtime to regard him. And they now looked uponhim as a war devil.

The friend came staggering to him. Therewas some fright and dismay in his voice. "Are yehall right, Fleming? Do yeh feel all right? Thereain't nothin' th' matter with yeh, Henry, is there?"

"No," said the youth with difficulty. Histhroat seemed full of knobs and burs.

These incidents made the youth ponder. Itwas 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 itwas fine, wild, and, in some ways, easy. He hadbeen a tremendous figure, no doubt. By thisstruggle he had overcome obstacles which hehad admitted to be mountains. They had fallenlike paper peaks, and he was now what he calleda 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 ofhis 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 camehard 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 couldbe heard in a wild, incomprehensible laugh.

When he had a particularly profound thoughtupon the science of war he always unconsciouslyaddressed himself to the youth.

There was some grim rejoicing by the men."By thunder, I bet this army'll never see anothernew 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' womanswep' up th' woods she'd git a dustpanful."

"Yes, an' if she'll come around ag'in in 'boutan' hour she'll git a pile more."

The forest still bore its burden of clamor.From off under the trees came the rolling clatterof the musketry. Each distant thicket seemed astrange porcupine with quills of flame. A cloudof dark smoke, as from smoldering ruins, wentup toward the sun now bright and gay in theblue, enameled sky.