th that his rifle was an
impotent stick, he lost sense of everything but his hate, his desire to
smash into pulp the glittering smile of victory which he could feel
upon the faces of his enemies.

The blue smoke-swallowed line curled and writhed like a snake stepped
upon. It swung its ends to and fro in an agony of fear and rage.

The youth was not conscious that he was erect upon his feet. He did
not know the direction of the ground. Indeed, once he even lost the
habit of balance and fell heavily. He was up again immediately. One
thought went through the chaos of his brain at the time. He wondered
if he had fallen because he had been shot. But the suspicion flew away
at once. He did not think more of it.

He had taken up a first position behind the little tree, with a direct
determination to hold it against the world. He had not deemed it
possible that his army could that day succeed, and from this he felt
the ability to fight harder. But the throng had surged in all ways,
until he lost directions and locations, save that he knew where lay the
enemy.

The flames bit him, and the hot smoke broiled his skin. His rifle
barrel grew so hot that ordinarily he could not have borne it upon his
palms; but he kept on stuffing cartridges into it, and pounding them
with his clanking, bending ramrod. If he aimed at some changing form
through the smoke, he pulled his trigger with a fierce grunt, as if he
were dealing a blow of the fist with all his strength.

When the enemy seemed falling back before him and his fellows, he went
instantly forward, like a dog who, seeing his foes lagging, turns and
insists upon being pursued. And when he was compelled to retire again,
he did it slowly, sullenly, taking steps of wrathful despair.

Once he, in his intent hate, was almost alone, and was firing, when all
those near him had ceased. He was so engrossed in his occupation that
he was not aware of a lull.

He was recalled by a hoarse laugh and a sentence that came to his ears
in a voice of contempt and amazement. "Yeh infernal fool, don't yeh
know enough t' quit when there ain't anything t' shoot at? Good Gawd!"

He turned then and, pausing with his rifle thrown half into position,
looked at the blue line of his comrades. During this moment of leisure
they seemed all to be engaged in staring with astonishment at him. They
had become spectators. Turning to the front again he saw, under the
lifted smoke, a deserted gro