t these matters. For a moment he blushed, and the light of his
soul flickered with shame.

A specter of reproach came to him. There loomed the dogging memory of
the tattered soldier--he who, gored by bullets and faint of blood, had
fretted concerning an imagined wound in another; he who had loaned his
last of strength and intellect for the tall soldier; he who, blind with
weariness and pain, had been deserted in the field.

For an instant a wretched chill of sweat was upon him at the thought
that he might be detected in the thing. As he stood persistently
before his vision, he gave vent to a cry of sharp irritation and agony.

His friend turned. "What's the matter, Henry?" he demanded. The
youth's reply was an outburst of crimson oaths.

As he marched along the little branch-hung roadway among his prattling
companions this vision of cruelty brooded over him. It clung near him
always and darkened his view of these deeds in purple and gold.
Whichever way his thoughts turned they were followed by the somber
phantom of the desertion in the fields. He looked stealthily at his
companions, feeling sure that they must discern in his face evidences
of this pursuit. But they were plodding in ragged array, discussing
with quick tongues the accomplishments of the late battle.

"Oh, if a man should come up an' ask me, I'd say we got a dum good
lickin'."

"Lickin'--in yer eye! We ain't licked, sonny. We're goin' down here
aways, swing aroun', an' come in behint 'em."

"Oh, hush, with your comin' in behint 'em. I've seen all 'a that I
wanta. Don't tell me about comin' in behint--"

"Bill Smithers, he ses he'd rather been in ten hundred battles than
been in that heluva hospital. He ses they got shootin' in th'
nighttime, an' shells dropped plum among 'em in th' hospital. He ses
sech hollerin' he never see."

"Hasbrouck? He's th' best off'cer in this here reg'ment. He's a
whale."

"Didn't I tell yeh we'd come aroun' in behint 'em? Didn't I tell yeh
so? We--"

"Oh, shet yeh mouth!"

For a time this pursuing recollection of the tattered man took all
elation from the youth's veins. He saw his vivid error, and he was
afraid that it would stand before him all his life. He took no share
in the chatter of his comrades, nor did he look at them or know them,
save when he felt sudden suspicion that they were seeing his thoughts
and scrutinizing each detail of the scene with the tattered soldier.

Yet gradually