liable to the imagination. All to be seen
was shame for captivity and regret for the right to antagonize.

After the men had celebrated sufficiently they settled down behind the
old rail fence, on the opposite side to the one from which their foes
had been driven. A few shot perfunctorily at distant marks.

There was some long grass. The youth nestled in it and rested, making
a convenient rail support the flag. His friend, jubilant and
glorified, holding his treasure with vanity, came to him there. They
sat side by side and congratulated each other.

Chapter 24

The roarings that had stretched in a long line of sound across the face
of the forest began to grow intermittent and weaker. The stentorian
speeches of the artillery continued in some distant encounter, but the
crashes of the musketry had almost ceased. The youth and his friend of
a sudden looked up, feeling a deadened form of distress at the waning
of these noises, which had become a part of life. They could see
changes going on among the troops. There were marchings this way and
that way. A battery wheeled leisurely. On the crest of a small hill
was the thick gleam of many departing muskets.

The youth arose. "Well, what now, I wonder?" he said. By his tone he
seemed to be preparing to resent some new monstrosity in the way of
dins and smashes. He shaded his eyes with his grimy hand and gazed
over the field.

His friend also arose and stared. "I bet we're goin' t' git along out
of this an' back over th' river," said he.

"Well, I swan!" said the youth.

They waited, watching. Within a little while the regiment received
orders to retrace its way. The men got up grunting from the grass,
regretting the soft repose. They jerked their stiffened legs, and
stretched their arms over their heads. One man swore as he rubbed his
eyes. They all groaned "O Lord!" They had as many objections to this
change as they would have had to a proposal for a new battle.

They trampled slowly back over the field across which they had run in a
mad scamper.

The regiment marched until it had joined its fellows. The reformed
brigade, in column, aimed through a wood at the road. Directly they
were in a mass of dust-covered troops, and were trudging along in a way
parallel to the enemy's lines as these had been defined by the previous
turmoil.

They passed within view of a stolid white house, and saw in front of it
groups of their comrades lying