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Page 11
"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 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 viewpoints
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.
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