etected her at a window watching his
departure. As he perceived her, she had immediately begun to stare up
through the high tree branches at the sky. He had seen a good deal of
flurry and haste in her movement as she changed her attitude. He often
thought of it.

On the way to Washington his spirit had soared. The regiment was fed
and caressed at station after station until the youth had believed that
he must be a hero. There was a lavish expenditure of bread and cold
meats, coffee, and pickles and cheese. As he basked in the smiles of
the girls and was patted and complimented by the old men, he had felt
growing within him the strength to do mighty deeds of arms.

After complicated journeyings with many pauses, there had come months
of monotonous life in a camp. He had had the belief that real war was
a series of death struggles with small time in between for sleep and
meals; but since his regiment had come to the field the army had done
little but sit still and try to keep warm.

He was brought then gradually back to his old ideas. Greeklike
struggles would be no more. Men were better, or more timid. Secular
and religious education had effaced the throat-grappling instinct, or
else firm finance held in check the passions.

He had grown to regard himself merely as a part of a vast blue
demonstration. His province was to look out, as far as he could, for
his personal comfort. For recreation he could twiddle his thumbs and
speculate on the thoughts which must agitate the minds of the generals.
Also, he was drilled and drilled and reviewed, and drilled and drilled
and reviewed.

The only foes he had seen were some pickets along the river bank. They
were a sun-tanned, philosophical lot, who sometimes shot reflectively
at the blue pickets. When reproached for this afterward, they usually
expressed sorrow, and swore by their gods that the guns had exploded
without their permission. The youth, on guard duty one night,
conversed across the stream with one of them. He was a slightly ragged
man, who spat skillfully between his shoes and possessed a great fund
of bland and infantile assurance. The youth liked him personally.

"Yank," the other had informed him, "yer a right dum good feller." This
sentiment, floating to him upon the still air, had made him temporarily
regret war.

Various veterans had told him tales. Some talked of gray, bewhiskered
hordes who were advancing with relentless curses and chewi