THE colonel came running along back of theline. There were other officers following him."We must charge'm!" they shouted. "We mustcharge'm!" they cried with resentful voices, asif anticipating a rebellion against this plan by themen.

The youth, upon hearing the shouts, began tostudy the distance between him and the enemy.He made vague calculations. He saw that to befirm soldiers they must go forward. It would bedeath to stay in the present place, and with allthe circumstances to go backward would exalttoo many others. Their hope was to push thegalling foes away from the fence.

He expected that his companions, weary andstiffened, would have to be driven to this assault,but as he turned toward them he perceived witha certain surprise that they were giving quickand unqualified expressions of assent. There wasan ominous, clanging overture to the charge

217when the shafts of the bayonets rattled upon therifle barrels. At the yelled words of commandthe soldiers sprang forward in eager leaps.There was new and unexpected force in themovement of the regiment. A knowledge of itsfaded and jaded condition made the charge ap-pear like a paroxysm, a display of the strengththat comes before a final feebleness. The menscampered in insane fever of haste, racing as if toachieve a sudden success before an exhilaratingfluid should leave them. It was a blind and de-spairing rush by the collection of men in dustyand tattered blue, over a green sward and undera sapphire sky, toward a fence, dimly outlined insmoke, from behind which spluttered the fiercerifles of enemies.

The youth kept the bright colors to the front.He was waving his free arm in furious circles,the while shrieking mad calls and appeals, urgingon those that did not need to be urged, for itseemed that the mob of blue men hurling them-selves on the dangerous group of rifles wereagain grown suddenly wild with an enthusiasm ofunselfishness. From the many firings startingtoward them, it looked as if they would merelysucceed in making a great sprinkling of corpseson the grass between their former position andthe fence. But they were in a state of frenzy,perhaps because of forgotten vanities, and it madean exhibition of sublime recklessness. There wasno obvious questioning, nor figurings, nor dia-grams. There was, apparently, no consideredloopholes. It appeared that the swift wings oftheir desires would have shattered against theiron gates of the impossible.

He himself felt the daring spirit of a savagereligion mad. He was capable of profound sacri-fices, a tremendous death. He had no time fordissections, but he knew that he thought of thebullets only as things that could prevent himfrom reaching the place of his endeavor. Therewere subtle flashings of joy within him that thusshould be his mind.

He strained all his strength. His eyesightwas shaken and dazzled by the tension of thoughtand muscle. He did not see anything exceptingthe mist of smoke gashed by the little knives offire, but he knew that in it lay the aged fence of avanished farmer protecting the snuggled bodiesof the gray men.

As he ran a thought of the shock of contactgleamed in his mind. He expected a great con-cussion when the two bodies of troops crashedtogether. This became a part of his wild battlemadness. He could feel the onward swing of theregiment about him and he conceived of a thun-derous, crushing blow that would prostrate theresistance and spread consternation and amaze-ment for miles. The flying regiment was goingto have a catapultian effect. This dream madehim run faster among his comrades, who weregiving vent to hoarse and frantic cheers.

But presently he could see that many of themen in gray did not intend to abide the blow.The smoke, rolling, disclosed men who ran, theirfaces still turned. These grew to a crowd, whoretired stubbornly. Individuals wheeled fre-quently to send a bullet at the blue wave.

But at one part of the line there was a grimand obdurate group that made no movement.They were settled firmly down behind posts andrails. A flag, ruffled and fierce, waved over themand their rifles dinned fiercely.

The blue whirl of men got very near, untilit seemed that in truth there would be a closeand frightful scuffle. There was an expresseddisdain in the opposition of the little group,that changed the meaning of the cheers of themen in blue. They became yells of wrath,directed, personal. The cries of the two partieswere now in sound an interchange of scathinginsults.

They in blue showed their teeth; their eyesshone all white. They launched themselves as atthe throats of those who stood resisting. Thespace between dwindled to an insignificant dis-tance.

The youth had centered the gaze of his soulupon that other flag. Its possession would behigh pride. It would express bloody minglings,near blows. He had a gigantic hatred for thosewho made great difficulties and complications.They caused it to be as a craved treasure of my-thology, hung amid tasks and contrivances ofdanger.

He plunged like a mad horse at it. He wasresolved it should not escape if wild blows anddarings of blows could seize it. His own em-blem, quivering and aflare, was winging towardthe other. It seemed there would shortly bean encounter of strange beaks and claws, as ofeagles.

The swirling body of blue men came to asudden halt at close and disastrous range androared a swift volley. The group in gray wassplit and broken by this fire, but its riddled bodystill fought. The men in blue yelled again andrushed in upon it.

The youth, in his leapings, saw, as through amist, a picture of four or five men stretched uponthe ground or writhing upon their knees withbowed heads as if they had been stricken by boltsfrom the sky. Tottering among them was therival color bearer, whom the youth saw had beenbitten vitally by the bullets of the last formidablevolley. He perceived this man fighting a laststruggle, the struggle of one whose legs aregrasped by demons. It was a ghastly battle.Over his face was the bleach of death, but setupon it was the dark and hard lines of desperatepurpose. With this terrible grin of resolution hehugged his precious flag to him and was stum-bling and staggering in his design to go the waythat led to safety for it.

But his wounds always made it seem that hisfeet were retarded, held, and he fought a grimfight, as with invisible ghouls fastened greedilyupon his limbs. Those in advance of the scam-pering blue men, howling cheers, leaped at thefence. The despair of the lost was in his eyes ashe glanced back at them.

The youth's friend went over the obstructionin a tumbling heap and sprang at the flag as apanther at prey. He pulled at it and, wrench-ing it free, swung up its red brilliancy with amad cry of exultation even as the color bearer,gasping, lurched over in a final throe and, stiff-ening convulsively, turned his dead face to theground. There was much blood upon the grassblades.

At the place of success there began more wildclamorings of cheers. The men gesticulated andbellowed in an ecstasy. When they spoke it wasas if they considered their listener to be a mileaway. What hats and caps were left to themthey often slung high in the air.

At one part of the line four men had beenswooped upon, and they now sat as prisoners.Some blue men were about them in an eager andcurious circle. The soldiers had trapped strangebirds, and there was an examination. A flurry offast questions was in the air.

One of the prisoners was nursing a superficialwound in the foot. He cuddled it, baby-wise,but he looked up from it often to curse with anastonishing utter abandon straight at the noses ofhis captors. He consigned them to red regions;he called upon the pestilential wrath of strangegods. And with it all he was singularly freefrom recognition of the finer points of the con-duct of prisoners of war. It was as if a clumsyclod had trod upon his toe and he conceived it tobe his privilege, his duty, to use deep, resentfuloaths.

Another, who was a boy in years, took hisplight with great calmness and apparent goodnature. He conversed with the men in blue,studying their faces with his bright and keeneyes. They spoke of battles and conditions.There was an acute interest in all their faces dur-ing this exchange of view points. It seemed agreat satisfaction to hear voices from where allhad been darkness and speculation.

The third captive sat with a morose counte-nance. He preserved a stoical and cold attitude.To all advances he made one reply without varia-tion, "Ah, go t' hell!"

The last of the four was always silent and,for the most part, kept his face turned in un-molested directions. From the views the youthreceived he seemed to be in a state of absolutedejection. Shame was upon him, and with itprofound regret that he was, perhaps, no moreto be counted in the ranks of his fellows. Theyouth could detect no expression that wouldallow him to believe that the other was givinga thought to his narrowed future, the pictureddungeons, perhaps, and starvations and brutali-ties, liable to the imagination. All to be seenwas shame for captivity and regret for the rightto antagonize.

After the men had celebrated sufficiently theysettled down behind the old rail fence, on theopposite side to the one from which their foeshad been driven. A few shot perfunctorily atdistant marks.

There was some long grass. The youthnestled in it and rested, making a convenient railsupport the flag. His friend, jubilant and glori-fied, holding his treasure with vanity, came tohim there. They sat side by side and congratu-lated each other.