en as the color bearer, gasping, lurched over in a final
throe and, stiffening convulsively, turned his dead face to the ground.
There was much blood upon the grass blades.

At the place of success there began more wild clamorings of cheers. The
men gesticulated and bellowed in an ecstasy. When they spoke it was as
if they considered their listener to be a mile away. What hats and
caps were left to them they often slung high in the air.

At one part of the line four men had been swooped upon, and they now
sat as prisoners. Some blue men were about them in an eager and curious
circle. The soldiers had trapped strange birds, and there was an
examination. A flurry of fast questions was in the air.

One of the prisoners was nursing a superficial wound in the foot. He
cuddled it, baby-wise, but he looked up from it often to curse with an
astonishing utter abandon straight at the noses of his captors. He
consigned them to red regions; he called upon the pestilential wrath of
strange gods. And with it all he was singularly free from recognition
of the finer points of the conduct of prisoners of war. It was as if a
clumsy clod had trod upon his toe and he conceived it to be his
privilege, his duty, to use deep, resentful oaths.

Another, who was a boy in years, took his plight with great calmness
and apparent good nature. He conversed with the men in blue, studying
their faces with his bright and keen eyes. They spoke of battles and
conditions. There was an acute interest in all their faces during this
exchange of view points. It seemed a great satisfaction to hear voices
from where all had been darkness and speculation.

The third captive sat with a morose countenance. He preserved a
stoical and cold attitude. To all advances he made one reply without
variation, "Ah, go t' hell!"

The last of the four was always silent and, for the most part, kept his
face turned in unmolested directions. From the views the youth
received he seemed to be in a state of absolute dejection. Shame was
upon him, and with it profound regret that he was, perhaps, no more to
be counted in the ranks of his fellows. The youth could detect no
expression that would allow him to believe that the other was giving a
thought to his narrowed future, the pictured dungeons, perhaps, and
starvations and brutalities, liable to the imagination. All to be seen
was shame for captivity and regret for the right to antagonize.

After the men had c