Service are the other three aces. Yet, even if you
hold all these, you may still lose unless you possess one more magic
card: Self-respect! We all owe to our soul a certain measure of
self-respect, Jeb. It is a gentleman's personal debt of honor to
himself, demanding payment before every other obligation, and is
satisfied only when we face each of life's crises with steel-tipped,
crystal courage!"

Jeb rolled despairingly over on his back, gripping his hands and
whispering:

"Oh, God, give me that steel-tipped, crystal courage!"

The sun had set, and with its decline the battlefield grew peculiarly
still. A barely perceptible current of air was stirring, and he watched
the low canopy of smoke slowly drifting; feeling very small amidst the
dead and desolation as he fancied that it might be a silent, winged
army of souls gliding eastward to a new dawn.

Suddenly he wondered about the battle--what had become of it! Except for
desultory cannonading far to the left, perfect quiet, almost peace,
reigned over the darkening ground. In the region where he lay, human
passions seemed to have burned into ashes as cold and lifeless as the
six or eight calm bodies near to him. He knew the Allies were silently
consolidating their gains while, beyond, the Germans strengthened
positions for another resistance; the armies of construction were
creating what armies of destruction would furiously undo. So uncannily
silent had the immediate world become that now, for the first time, he
noticed a singing in his ears, caused by twelve hours of hellish
concussions--and then, coming more completely to himself, he discovered
that for the first time in many days he was hungry.

Jeb sat up and seriously took stock of himself. He had come here to die,
but was beginning to resent the very thought of it; he had run to get
away from--what? Disgrace and mortification? Why continue to suffer
these if a means were at hand to wipe them off the slate? For what
purpose should he be disgraced and mortified if, henceforth, he played a
man's part! Near his feet was a dead soldier whose face happened to be
turned directly toward him, and through the gathering twilight Jeb saw
that the eyes were open, steadily fixed upon him as if waiting to see
what he would decide. But this ghastly picture brought him no feeling of
revulsion as it might have, earlier; instead, he gazed back for quite a
minute, seeming to discover in the dead eyes an expression of reproach