|  | CHAPTER XXI.
 
 
 PRESENTLY they knew that no firing threat-
 
 ened them. All ways seemed once more opened
 
 to them. The dusty blue lines of their friends
 
 were disclosed a short distance away. In the
 
 distance there were many colossal noises, but in
 
 all this part of the field there was a sudden stillness.
 
 
 
 They perceived that they were free. The
 
 depleted band drew a long breath of relief
 
 and gathered itself into a bunch to complete
 
 its trip.
 
 
 
 In this last length of journey the men began
 
 to show strange emotions. They hurried with
 
 nervous fear. Some who had been dark and un-
 
 faltering in the grimmest moments now could not
 
 conceal an anxiety that made them frantic. It
 
 was perhaps that they dreaded to be killed in
 
 insignificant ways after the times for proper
 
 military deaths had passed. Or, perhaps, they
 
 thought it would be too ironical to get killed at
 
 the portals of safety. With backward looks of
 
 perturbation, they hastened.
 
 
 
 As they approached their own lines there was
 
 some sarcasm exhibited on the part of a gaunt
 
 and bronzed regiment that lay resting in the
 
 shade of trees. Questions were wafted to them.
 
 
 
 "Where th' hell yeh been?"
 
 
 
 "What yeh comin' back fer?"
 
 
 
 "Why didn't yeh stay there?"
 
 
 
 "Was it warm out there, sonny?"
 
 
 
 "Goin' home now, boys?"
 
 
 
 One shouted in taunting mimicry: "Oh,
 
 mother, come quick an' look at th' sojers!"
 
 
 
 There was no reply from the bruised and bat-
 
 tered regiment, save that one man made broad-
 
 cast challenges to fist fights and the red-bearded
 
 officer walked rather near and glared in great
 
 swashbuckler style at a tall captain in the other
 
 regiment. But the lieutenant suppressed the
 
 man who wished to fist fight, and the tall captain,
 
 flushing at the little fanfare of the red-bearded one,
 
 was obliged to look intently at some trees.
 
 
 
 The youth's tender flesh was deeply stung by
 
 these remarks. From under his creased brows
 
 he glowered with hate at the mockers. He
 
 meditated upon a few revenges. Still, many in
 
 the regiment hung their heads in criminal fashion,
 
 so that it came to pass that the men trudged with
 
 sudden heaviness, as if they bore upon their
 
 bended shoulders the coffin of their honor. And
 
 the youthful lieutenant, recollecting himself, be-
 
 gan to mutter softly in black curses.
 
 
 
 They turned when they arrived at their old
 
 position to regard the ground over which they
 
 had charged.
 
 
 
 The youth in this contemplation was smitten
 
 with a large astonishment. He discovered that
 
 the distances, as compared with the brilliant
 
 measurings of his mind, were trivial and ridicu-
 
 lous. The stolid trees, where much had taken
 
 place, seemed incredibly near. The time, too,
 
 now that he reflected, he saw to have been short.
 
 He wondered at the number of emotions and
 
 events that had been crowded into such little
 
 spaces. Elfin thoughts must have exaggerated
 
 and enlarged everything, he said.
 
 
 
 It seemed, then, that there was bitter justice
 
 in the speeches of the gaunt and bronzed vet-
 
 erans. He veiled a glance of disdain at his fel-
 
 lows who strewed the ground, choking with dust,
 
 red from perspiration, misty-eyed, disheveled.
 
 
 
 They were gulping at their canteens, fierce to
 
 wring every mite of water from them, and they
 
 polished at their swollen and watery features
 
 with coat sleeves and bunches of grass.
 
 
 
 However, to the youth there was a consider-
 
 able joy in musing upon his performances during
 
 the charge. He had had very little time pre-
 
 viously in which to appreciate himself, so that
 
 there was now much satisfaction in quietly think-
 
 ing of his actions. He recalled bits of color that
 
 in the flurry had stamped themselves unawares
 
 upon his engaged senses.
 
 
 
 As the regiment lay heaving from its hot exer-
 
 tions the officer who had named them as mule
 
 drivers came galloping along the line. He had
 
 lost his cap. His tousled hair streamed wildly,
 
 and his face was dark with vexation and wrath.
 
 His temper was displayed with more clearness
 
 by the way in which he managed his horse. He
 
 jerked and wrenched savagely at his bridle, stop-
 
 ping the hard-breathing animal with a furious
 
 pull near the colonel of the regiment. He im-
 
 mediately exploded in reproaches which came
 
 unbidden to the ears of the men. They were
 
 suddenly alert, being always curious about black
 
 words between officers.
 
 
 
 "Oh, thunder, MacChesnay, what an awful
 
 bull you made of this thing!" began the officer.
 
 He attempted low tones, but his indignation
 
 caused certain of the men to learn the sense of
 
 his words. "What an awful mess you made!
 
 Good Lord, man, you stopped about a hun-
 
 dred feet this side of a very pretty success! If
 
 your men had gone a hundred feet farther you
 
 would have made a great charge, but as it is
 
 --what a lot of mud diggers you've got anyway!"
 
 
 
 The men, listening with bated breath, now
 
 turned their curious eyes upon the colonel.
 
 They had a ragamuffin interest in this affair.
 
 
 
 The colonel was seen to straighten his form
 
 and put one hand forth in oratorical fashion.
 
 He wore an injured air; it was as if a deacon
 
 had been accused of stealing. The men were
 
 wiggling in an ecstasy of excitement.
 
 
 
 But of a sudden the colonel's manner changed
 
 from that of a deacon to that of a Frenchman.
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, well, general,
 
 we went as far as we could," he said calmly.
 
 
 
 "As far as you could? Did you, b'Gawd?"
 
 snorted the other. "Well, that wasn't very far,
 
 was it?" he added, with a glance of cold con-
 
 tempt into the other's eyes. "Not very far, I
 
 think. You were intended to make a diversion
 
 in favor of Whiterside. How well you succeeded
 
 your own ears can now tell you." He wheeled
 
 his horse and rode stiffly away.
 
 
 
 The colonel, bidden to hear the jarring noises
 
 of an engagement in the woods to the left, broke
 
 out in vague damnations.
 
 
 
 The lieutenant, who had listened with an air
 
 of impotent rage to the interview, spoke suddenly
 
 in firm and undaunted tones. "I don't care what
 
 a man is--whether he is a general or what--if
 
 he says th' boys didn't put up a good fight out
 
 there he's a damned fool."
 
 
 
 "Lieutenant," began the colonel, severely,
 
 "this is my own affair, and I'll trouble you--"
 
 
 
 The lieutenant made an obedient gesture.
 
 "All right, colonel, all right," he said. He sat
 
 down with an air of being content with himself.
 
 
 
 The news that the regiment had been re-
 
 proached went along the line. For a time the
 
 men were bewildered by it. "Good thunder!"
 
 they ejaculated, staring at the vanishing form of
 
 the general. They conceived it to be a huge mistake.
 
 
 
 Presently, however, they began to believe that
 
 in truth their efforts had been called light. The
 
 youth could see this conviction weigh upon the
 
 entire regiment until the men were like cuffed
 
 and cursed animals, but withal rebellious.
 
 
 
 The friend, with a grievance in his eye,
 
 went to the youth. "I wonder what he does
 
 want," he said. "He must think we went out
 
 there an' played marbles! I never see sech a man!"
 
 
 
 The youth developed a tranquil philosophy
 
 for these moments of irritation. "Oh, well," he
 
 rejoined, "he probably didn't see nothing of it at
 
 all and got mad as blazes, and concluded we were
 
 a lot of sheep, just because we didn't do what he
 
 wanted done. It's a pity old Grandpa Hender-
 
 son got killed yestirday--he'd have known that
 
 we did our best and fought good. It's just our
 
 awful luck, that's what."
 
 
 
 "I should say so," replied the friend. He
 
 seemed to be deeply wounded at an injustice.
 
 "I should say we did have awful luck! There's
 
 no fun in fightin' fer people when everything
 
 yeh do--no matter what--ain't done right. I
 
 have a notion t' stay behind next time an' let
 
 'em take their ol' charge an' go t' th' devil with it."
 
 
 
 The youth spoke soothingly to his comrade.
 
 "Well, we both did good. I'd like to see the
 
 fool what'd say we both didn't do as good as we could!"
 
 
 
 "Of course we did," declared the friend
 
 stoutly. "An' I'd break th' feller's neck if he was
 
 as big as a church. But we're all right, anyhow,
 
 for I heard one feller say that we two fit th' best
 
 in th' reg'ment, an' they had a great argument
 
 'bout it. Another feller, 'a course, he had t' up
 
 an' say it was a lie--he seen all what was goin'
 
 on an' he never seen us from th' beginnin' t' th'
 
 end. An' a lot more struck in an' ses it wasn't
 
 a lie--we did fight like thunder, an' they give
 
 us quite a send-off. But this is what I can't
 
 stand--these everlastin' ol' soldiers, titterin' an'
 
 laughin', an' then that general, he's crazy."
 
 
 
 The youth exclaimed with sudden exaspera-
 
 tion: "He's a lunkhead! He makes me mad.
 
 I wish he'd come along next time. We'd show
 
 'im what--"
 
 
 
 He ceased because several men had come
 
 hurrying up. Their faces expressed a bringing
 
 of great news.
 
 
 
 "O Flem, yeh jest oughta heard!" cried one, eagerly.
 
 
 
 "Heard what?" said the youth.
 
 
 
 "Yeh jest oughta heard!" repeated the other,
 
 and he arranged himself to tell his tidings. The
 
 others made an excited circle. "Well, sir, th'
 
 colonel met your lieutenant right by us--it was
 
 damnedest thing I ever heard--an' he ses: 'Ahem!
 
 ahem!' he ses. 'Mr. Hasbrouck!' he ses, 'by
 
 th' way, who was that lad what carried th' flag?'
 
 he ses. There, Flemin', what d' yeh think 'a
 
 that? 'Who was th' lad what carried th' flag?'
 
 he ses, an' th' lieutenant, he speaks up right
 
 away: 'That's Flemin', an' he's a jimhickey,' he
 
 ses, right away. What? I say he did. 'A jim-
 
 hickey,' he ses--those 'r his words. He did, too.
 
 I say he did. If you kin tell this story better
 
 than I kin, go ahead an' tell it. Well, then, keep
 
 yer mouth shet. Th' lieutenant, he ses: 'He's a
 
 jimhickey,' an' th' colonel, he ses: 'Ahem! ahem!
 
 he is, indeed, a very good man t' have, ahem! He
 
 kep' th' flag 'way t' th' front. I saw 'im. He's a
 
 good un,' ses th' colonel. 'You bet,' ses th' lieu-
 
 tenant, 'he an' a feller named Wilson was at th'
 
 head 'a th' charge, an' howlin' like Indians all th'
 
 time,' he ses. 'Head 'a th' charge all th' time,'
 
 he ses. 'A feller named Wilson,' he ses. There,
 
 Wilson, m'boy, put that in a letter an' send it
 
 hum t' yer mother, hay? 'A feller named Wil-
 
 son,' he ses. An' th' colonel, he ses: 'Were they,
 
 indeed? Ahem! ahem! My sakes!' he ses. 'At
 
 th' head 'a th' reg'ment?' he ses. 'They were,'
 
 ses th' lieutenant. 'My sakes!' ses th' colonel.
 
 He ses: 'Well, well, well,' he ses, 'those two
 
 babies?' 'They were,' ses th' lieutenant.
 
 'Well, well,' ses th' colonel, 'they deserve t' be
 
 major generals,' he ses. 'They deserve t' be
 
 major-generals.'
 
 
 
 The youth and his friend had said: "Huh!"
 
 "Yer lyin', Thompson." "Oh, go t' blazes!"
 
 "He never sed it." "Oh, what a lie!" "Huh!"
 
 But despite these youthful scoffings and embar-
 
 rassments, they knew that their faces were deeply
 
 flushing from thrills of pleasure. They exchanged
 
 a secret glance of joy and congratulation.
 
 
 
 They speedily forgot many things. The past
 
 held no pictures of error and disappointment.
 
 They were very happy, and their hearts swelled
 
 with grateful affection for the colonel and the
 
 youthful lieutenant.
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