. He found a difficulty in
standing still and fancied that his men observed it. Was it fear? He
feared it was.

From somewhere away to the right came, as the wind served, a low,
intermittent murmur like that of ocean in a storm--like that of a
distant railway train--like that of wind among the pines--three sounds
so nearly alike that the ear, unaided by the judgment, cannot
distinguish them one from another. The eyes of the troops were drawn in
that direction; the mounted officers turned their field-glasses that
way. Mingled with the sound was an irregular throbbing. He thought it,
at first, the beating of his fevered blood in his ears; next, the
distant tapping of a bass drum.

"The ball is opened on the right flank," said an officer.

Captain Graffenreid understood: the sounds were musketry and artillery.
He nodded and tried to smile. There was apparently nothing infectious in
the smile.

Presently a light line of blue smoke-puffs broke out along the edge of
the wood in front, succeeded by a crackle of rifles. There were keen,
sharp hissings in the air, terminating abruptly with a thump near by.
The man at Captain Graffenreid's side dropped his rifle; his knees gave
way and he pitched awkwardly forward, falling upon his face. Somebody
shouted "Lie down!" and the dead man was hardly distinguishable from the
living. It looked as if those few rifle-shots had slain ten thousand
men. Only the field officers remained erect; their concession to the
emergency consisted in dismounting and sending their horses to the
shelter of the low hills immediately in rear.

Captain Graffenreid lay alongside the dead man, from beneath whose
breast flowed a little rill of blood. It had a faint, sweetish odor that
sickened him. The face was crushed into the earth and flattened. It
looked yellow already, and was repulsive. Nothing suggested the glory of
a soldier's death nor mitigated the loathsomeness of the incident. He
could not turn his back upon the body without facing away from his
company.

He fixed his eyes upon the forest, where all again was silent. He tried
to imagine what was going on there--the lines of troops forming to
attack, the guns being pushed forward by hand to the edge of the open.
He fancied he could see their black muzzles protruding from the
undergrowth, ready to deliver their storm of missiles--such missiles as
the one whose shriek had so unsettled his nerves. The distension of his
eyes became painful; a mist