ceremonial," another went on, "from A to Z--the
colonel on horseback, the degradation; then they tied him to the little
post, the cattle-stoup. He had to be forced to kneel or sit on the
ground with a similar post."

"It's past understanding," said a third, after a silence, "if it wasn't
for the example the sergeant spoke about."

On the post the soldiers had scrawled inscriptions and protests. A
croix de guerre, cut clumsily of wood, was nailed to it, and read: "A.
Cajard, mobilized in August, 1914, in gratitude to France."

Returning to quarters I met Volpatte, still surrounded and talking. He
was relating some new anecdotes of his journey among the happy ones.

------------

[note 1:] I have altered the name of this soldier as well as that of
the village.--H. B.

XI

The Dog

THE weather was appalling. Water and wind attacked the passers-by;
riddled, flooded, and upheaved the roads.

I was returning from fatigue to our quarters at the far end of the
village. The landscape that morning showed dirty yellow through the
solid rain, and the sky was dark as a slated roof. The downpour flogged
the horse-trough as with birchen rods. Along the walls, human shapes
went in shrinking files, stooping, abashed, splashing.

In spite of the rain and the cold and bitter wind, a crowd had gathered
in front of the door of the barn where we were lodging. All close
together and back to back, the men seemed from a distance like a great
moving sponge. Those who could see, over shoulders and between heads,
opened their eyes wide and said, "He has a nerve, the boy!" Then the
inquisitive ones broke away, with red noses and streaming faces, into
the down-pour that lashed and the blast that bit, and letting the hands
fall that they had upraised in surprise, they plunged them in their
pockets.

In the center, and running with rain, abode the cause of the
gathering--Fouillade, bare to the waist and washing himself in abundant
water. Thin as an insect, working his long slender arms in riotous
frenzy, he soaped and splashed his head, neck, and chest, down to the
upstanding gridirons of his sides. Over his funnel-shaped cheeks the
brisk activity had spread a flaky beard like snow, and piled on the top
of his head a greasy fleece that the rain was puncturing with little
holes.

By way of a tub, the patient was using three mess-tins which he had
filled with water--no one knew how--in a village where there was none;
and as the