Chapter: The next morning the youth discovered that his tall comrade had been
the fast-flying messenger of a mistake.  There was much scoffing at the
latter by those who had yesterday been firm adherents of his views, and
there was even a little sneering by men who had never believed the
rumor.  The tall one fought with a man from Chatfield Corners and beat
him severely.

The youth felt, however, that his problem was in no wise lifted from
him.  There was, on the contrary, an irritating prolongation.  The tale
had created in him a great concern for himself. Now, with the newborn
question in his mind, he was compelled to sink back into his old place
as part of a blue demonstration.

For days he made ceaseless calculations, but they were all wondrously
unsatisfactory.  He found that he could establish nothing.  He finally
concluded that the only way to prove himself was to go into the blaze,
and then figuratively to watch his legs to discover their merits and
faults. He reluctantly admitted that he could not sit still and with a
mental slate and pencil derive an answer.  To gain it, he must have
blaze, blood, and danger, even as a chemist requires this, that, and
the other.  So he fretted for an opportunity.

Meanwhile he continually tried to measure himself by his comrades.  The
tall soldier, for one, gave him some assurance.  This man's serene
unconcern dealt him a measure of confidence, for he had known him since
childhood, and from his intimate knowledge he did not see how he could
be capable of anything that was beyond him, the youth.  Still, he
thought that his comrade might be mistaken about himself. Or, on the
other hand, he might be a man heretofore doomed to peace and obscurity,
but, in reality, made to shine in war.

The youth would have liked to have discovered another who suspected
himself.  A sympathetic comparison of mental notes would have been a
joy to him.

He occasionally tried to fathom a comrade with seductive sentences.  He
looked about to find men in the proper mood.  All attempts failed to
bring forth any statement which looked in any way like a confession to
those doubts which he privately acknowledged in himself. He was afraid
to make an open declaration of his concern, because he dreaded to place
some unscrupulous confidant upon the high plane of the unconfessed from
which elevation he could be derided.

In regard to his companions his mind wavered between two opinions,
according to his mood.  Sometimes he inclined to believing them all
heroes.  In fact, he usually admitted in secret the superior
development of the higher qualities in others.  He could conceive of
men going very insignificantly about the world bearing a load of
courage unseen, and although he had known many of his comrades through
boyhood, he began to fear that his judgment of them had been blind.
Then, in other moments, he flouted these theories, and assured himself
that his fellows were all privately wondering and quaking.

His emotions made him feel strange in the presence of men who talked
excitedly of a prospective battle as of a drama they were about to
witness, with nothing but eagerness and curiosity apparent in their
faces.  It was often that he suspected them to be liars.

He did not pass such thoughts without severe condemnation of himself.
He dinned reproaches at times.  He was convicted by himself of many
shameful crimes against the gods of traditions.

In his great anxiety his heart was continually clamoring at what he
considered the intolerable slowness of the generals.  They seemed
content to perch tranquilly on the river bank, and leave him bowed down
by the weight of a great problem.  He wanted it settled forthwith.  He
could not long bear such a load, he said.  Sometimes his anger at the
commanders reached an acute stage, and he grumbled about the camp like
a veteran.

One morning, however, he found himself in the ranks of his prepared
regiment.  The men were whispering speculations and recounting the old
rumors.  In the gloom before the break of the day their uniforms glowed
a deep purple hue.  From across the river the red eyes were still
peering.  In the eastern sky there was a yellow patch like a rug laid
for the feet of the coming sun; and against it, black and patternlike,
loomed the gigantic figure of the colonel on a gigantic horse.

From off in the darkness came the trampling of feet.  The youth could
occasionally see dark shadows that moved like monsters.  The regiment
stood at rest for what seemed a long time. The youth grew impatient. It
was unendurable the way these affairs were managed.  He wondered how
long they were to be kept waiting.

As he looked all about him and pondered upon the mystic gloom, he began
to believe that at any moment the ominous distance might be aflare, and
the rolling crashes of an engagement come to his ears.  Staring once at
the red eyes across the river, he conceived them to be growing larger,
as the orbs of a row of dragons advancing.  He turned toward the
colonel and saw him lift his gigantic arm and calmly stroke his
mustache.

At last he heard from along the road at the foot of the hill the
clatter of a horse's galloping hoofs.  It must be the coming of orders.
He bent forward, scarce breathing.  The exciting clickety-click, as it
grew louder and louder, seemed to be beating upon his soul.  Presently
a horseman with jangling equipment drew rein before the colonel of the
regiment.  The two held a short, sharp-worded conversation.  The men in
the foremost ranks craned their necks.

As the horseman wheeled his animal and galloped away he turned to shout
over his shoulder, "Don't forget that box of cigars!"  The colonel
mumbled in reply.  The youth wondered what a box of cigars had to do
with war.

A moment later the regiment went swinging off into the darkness.  It
was now like one of those moving monsters wending with many feet. The
air was heavy, and cold with dew.  A mass of wet grass, marched upon,
rustled like silk.

There was an occasional flash and glimmer of steel from the backs of
all these huge crawling reptiles.  From the road came creakings and
grumblings as some surly guns were dragged away.

The men stumbled along still muttering speculations.  There was a
subdued debate.  Once a man fell down, and as he reached for his rifle
a comrade, unseeing, trod upon his hand.  He of the injured fingers
swore bitterly and aloud.  A low, tittering laugh went among his
fellows.

Presently they passed into a roadway and marched forward with easy
strides.  A dark regiment moved before them, and from behind also came
the tinkle of equipments on the bodies of marching men.

The rushing yellow of the developing day went on behind their backs.
When the sunrays at last struck full and mellowingly upon the earth,
the youth saw that the landscape was streaked with two long, thin,
black columns which disappeared on the brow of a hill in front and
rearward vanished in a wood.  They were like two serpents crawling from
the cavern of the night.

The river was not in view.  The tall soldier burst into praises of what
he thought to be his powers of perception.

Some of the tall one's companions cried with emphasis that they, too,
had evolved the same thing, and they congratulated themselves upon it.
But there were others who said that the tall one's plan was not the
true one at all.  They persisted with other theories.  There was a
vigorous discussion.

The youth took no part in them.  As he walked along in careless line he
was engaged with his own eternal debate.  He could not hinder himself
from dwelling upon it.  He was despondent and sullen, and threw
shifting glances about him.  He looked ahead, often expecting to hear
from the advance the rattle of firing.

But the long serpents crawled slowly from hill to hill without bluster
of smoke.  A dun-colored cloud of dust floated away to the right. The
sky overhead was of a fairy blue.

The youth studied the faces of his companions, ever on the watch to
detect kindred emotions.  He suffered disappointment.  Some ardor of
the air which was causing the veteran commands to move with
glee--almost with song--had infected the new regiment.  The men began
to speak of victory as of a thing they knew. Also, the tall soldier
received his vindication. They were certainly going to come around in
behind the enemy.  They expressed commiseration for that part of the
army which had been left upon the river bank, felicitating themselves
upon being a part of a blasting host.

The youth, considering himself as separated from the others, was
saddened by the blithe and merry speeches that went from rank to rank.
The company wags all made their best endeavors.  The regiment tramped
to the tune of laughter.

The blatant soldier often convulsed whole files by his biting sarcasms
aimed at the tall one.

And it was not long before all the men seemed to forget their mission.
Whole brigades grinned in unison, and regiments laughed.

A rather fat soldier attempted to pilfer a horse from a dooryard.  He
planned to load his knap-sack upon it.  He was escaping with his prize
when a young girl rushed from the house and grabbed the animal's mane.
There followed a wrangle.  The young girl, with pink cheeks and shining
eyes, stood like a dauntless statue.

The observant regiment, standing at rest in the roadway, whooped at
once, and entered whole-souled upon the side of the maiden.  The men
became so engrossed in this affair that they entirely ceased to
remember their own large war. They jeered the piratical private, and
called attention to various defects in his personal appearance; and
they were wildly enthusiastic in support of the young girl.

To her, from some distance, came bold advice. "Hit him with a stick."

There were crows and catcalls showered upon him when he retreated
without the horse. The regiment rejoiced at his downfall.  Loud and
vociferous congratulations were showered upon the maiden, who stood
panting and regarding the troops with defiance.

At nightfall the column broke into regimental pieces, and the fragments
went into the fields to camp.  Tents sprang up like strange plants.
Camp fires, like red, peculiar blossoms, dotted the night.

The youth kept from intercourse with his companions as much as
circumstances would allow him.  In the evening he wandered a few paces
into the gloom.  From this little distance the many fires, with the
black forms of men passing to and fro before the crimson rays, made
weird and satanic effects.

He lay down in the grass.  The blades pressed tenderly against his
cheek.  The moon had been lighted and was hung in a treetop. The liquid
stillness of the night enveloping him made him feel vast pity for
himself.  There was a caress in the soft winds; and the whole mood of
the darkness, he thought, was one of sympathy for himself in his
distress.

He wished, without reserve, that he was at home again making the
endless rounds from the house to the barn, from the barn to the fields,
from the fields to the barn, from the barn to the house.  He remembered
he had often cursed the brindle cow and her mates, and had sometimes
flung milking stools.  But, from his present point of view, there was a
halo of happiness about each of their heads, and he would have
sacrificed all the brass buttons on the continent to have been enabled
to return to them.  He told himself that he was not formed for a
soldier.  And he mused seriously upon the radical differences between
himself and those men who were dodging imp-like around the fires.

As he mused thus he heard the rustle of grass, and, upon turning his
head, discovered the loud soldier.  He called out, "Oh, Wilson!"

The latter approached and looked down. "Why, hello, Henry; is it you?
What you doing here?"

"Oh, thinking," said the youth.

The other sat down and carefully lighted his pipe.  "You're getting
blue, my boy.  You're looking thundering peeked.  What the dickens is
wrong with you?"

"Oh, nothing," said the youth.

The loud soldier launched then into the subject of the anticipated
fight.  "Oh, we've got 'em now!"  As he spoke his boyish face was
wreathed in a gleeful smile, and his voice had an exultant ring. "We've
got 'em now.  At last, by the eternal thunders, we'll lick 'em good!"

"If the truth was known," he added, more soberly, "THEY'VE licked US
about every clip up to now; but this time--this time--we'll lick 'em
good!"

"I thought you was objecting to this march a little while ago," said
the youth coldly.

"Oh, it wasn't that," explained the other.  "I don't mind marching, if
there's going to be fighting at the end of it.  What I hate is this
getting moved here and moved there, with no good coming of it, as far
as I can see, excepting sore feet and damned short rations."

"Well, Jim Conklin says we'll get a plenty of fighting this time."

"He's right for once, I guess, though I can't see how it come.  This
time we're in for a big battle, and we've got the best end of it,
certain sure.  Gee rod! how we will thump 'em!"

He arose and began to pace to and fro excitedly.  The thrill of his
enthusiasm made him walk with an elastic step.  He was sprightly,
vigorous, fiery in his belief in success.  He looked into the future
with clear, proud eye, and he swore with the air of an old soldier.

The youth watched him for a moment in silence.  When he finally spoke
his voice was as bitter as dregs.  "Oh, you're going to do great
things, I s'pose!"

The loud soldier blew a thoughtful cloud of smoke from his pipe.  "Oh,
I don't know," he remarked with dignity; "I don't know.  I s'pose I'll
do as well as the rest.  I'm going to try like thunder."  He evidently
complimented himself upon the modesty of this statement.

"How do you know you won't run when the time comes?" asked the youth.

"Run?" said the loud one; "run?--of course not!"  He laughed.

"Well," continued the youth, "lots of good-a-'nough men have thought
they was going to do great things before the fight, but when the time
come they skedaddled."

"Oh, that's all true, I s'pose," replied the other; "but I'm not going
to skedaddle.  The man that bets on my running will lose his money,
that's all."  He nodded confidently.

"Oh, shucks!" said the youth.  "You ain't the bravest man in the world,
are you?"

"No, I ain't," exclaimed the loud soldier indignantly; "and I didn't
say I was the bravest man in the world, neither.  I said I was going to
do my share of fighting--that's what I said.  And I am, too.  Who are
you, anyhow.  You talk as if you thought you was Napoleon Bonaparte."
He glared at the youth for a moment, and then strode away.

The youth called in a savage voice after his comrade: "Well, you
needn't git mad about it!" But the other continued on his way and made
no reply.

He felt alone in space when his injured comrade had disappeared.  His
failure to discover any mite of resemblance in their view points made
him more miserable than before.  No one seemed to be wrestling with
such a terrific personal problem.  He was a mental outcast.

He went slowly to his tent and stretched himself on a blanket by the
side of the snoring tall soldier.  In the darkness he saw visions of a
thousand-tongued fear that would babble at his back and cause him to
flee, while others were going coolly about their country's business. He
admitted that he would not be able to cope with this monster.  He felt
that every nerve in his body would be an ear to hear the voices, while
other men would remain stolid and deaf.

And as he sweated with the pain of these thoughts, he could hear low,
serene sentences. "I'll bid five."  "Make it six."  "Seven." "Seven
goes."

He stared at the red, shivering reflection of a fire on the white wall
of his tent until, exhausted and ill from the monotony of his
suffering, he fell asleep.

 The regiment continues to rest, and Henry remains deep in his own thoughts, contemplating the possibility of battle and questioning his ability to cope with battle when it comes. The other soldiers, in Henry's view, don't seem to share his worries. Indeed, some are jovial and appear to be excited about the prospect of engaging in combat. Henry concludes that his comrades are all heroes without fear, but on further reflection, he feels that, perhaps, they are all as fearful as he, yet they suppress that fear. The regiment continues to rest, and Henry remains deep in his own thoughts, contemplating the possibility of battle and questioning his ability to cope with battle when it comes. The other soldiers, in Henry's view, don't seem to share his worries. Indeed, some are jovial and appear to be excited about the prospect of engaging in combat. Henry concludes that his comrades are all heroes without fear, but on further reflection, he feels that, perhaps, they are all as fearful as he, yet they suppress that fear. Early one morning several days later, the regiment stands ready to move out. As the regiment waits in the predawn, a horseman brings the news to move the regiment to a new position. As the night turns to morning, the regiment crosses the hills. At the end of the day's march, the regiment camps in a field. Henry rests, and as he rests, he thinks of his life on the farm and wishes he were there. His thoughts are interrupted when one of the loud, boisterous soldiers, Wilson, walks by, and Henry begins a conversation with him. Wilson speaks confidently of the upcoming battle. When Henry asks him if he might run when the fighting begins, he laughs the comment off. However, when Henry presses him on the issue, Wilson angrily challenges Henry's authority to question his bravery. That night, Henry falls into a sleep disturbed by doubts and fears.

