CHAPTER XII.
The column that had butted stoutly at the obstacles in the roadway wasbarely out of the youth's sight before he saw dark waves of men comesweeping out of the woods and down through the fields. He knew at oncethat the steel fibers had been washed from their hearts. They werebursting from their coats and their equipments as from entanglements.They charged down upon him like terrified buffaloes.
Behind them blue smoke curled and clouded above the treetops, andthrough the thickets he could sometimes see a distant pink glare. Thevoices of the cannon were clamoring in interminable chorus.
The youth was horrorstricken. He stared in agony and amazement. Heforgot that he was engaged in combating the universe. He threw asidehis mental pamphlets on the philosophy of the retreated and rules forthe guidance of the damned.
The fight was lost. The dragons were coming with invincible strides.The army, helpless in the matted thickets and blinded by theoverhanging night, was going to be swallowed. War, the red animal,war, the blood-swollen god, would have bloated fill.
Within him something bade to cry out. He had the impulse to make arallying speech, to sing a battle hymn, but he could only get histongue to call into the air: "Why--why--what--what 's th' matter?"
Soon he was in the midst of them. They were leaping and scampering allabout him. Their blanched faces shone in the dusk. They seemed, forthe most part, to be very burly men. The youth turned from one toanother of them as they galloped along. His incoherent questions werelost. They were heedless of his appeals. They did not seem to see him.
They sometimes gabbled insanely. One huge man was asking of the sky:"Say, where de plank road? Where de plank road!" It was as if he hadlost a child. He wept in his pain and dismay.
Presently, men were running hither and thither in all ways. Theartillery booming, forward, rearward, and on the flanks made jumble ofideas of direction. Landmarks had vanished into the gathered gloom.The youth began to imagine that he had got into the center of thetremendous quarrel, and he could perceive no way out of it. From themouths of the fleeing men came a thousand wild questions, but no onemade answers.
The youth, after rushing about and throwing interrogations at theheedless bands of retreating infantry, finally clutched a man by thearm. They swung around face to face.
"Why--why--" stammered the youth struggling with his balking tongue.
The man screamed: "Let go me! Let go me!" His face was livid and hiseyes were rolling uncontrolled. He was heaving and panting. He stillgrasped his rifle, perhaps having forgotten to release his hold uponit. He tugged frantically, and the youth being compelled to leanforward was dragged several paces.
"Let go me! Let go me!"
"Why--why--" stuttered the youth.
"Well, then!" bawled the man in a lurid rage. He adroitly and fiercelyswung his rifle. It crushed upon the youth's head. The man ran on.
The youth's fingers had turned to paste upon the other's arm. Theenergy was smitten from his muscles. He saw the flaming wings oflightning flash before his vision. There was a deafening rumble ofthunder within his head.
Suddenly his legs seemed to die. He sank writhing to the ground. Hetried to arise. In his efforts against the numbing pain he was like aman wrestling with a creature of the air.
There was a sinister struggle.
Sometimes he would achieve a position half erect, battle with the airfor a moment, and then fall again, grabbing at the grass. His face wasof a clammy pallor. Deep groans were wrenched from him.
At last, with a twisting movement, he got upon his hands and knees, andfrom thence, like a babe trying to walk, to his feet. Pressing hishands to his temples he went lurching over the grass.
He fought an intense battle with his body. His dulled senses wished himto swoon and he opposed them stubbornly, his mind portraying unknowndangers and mutilations if he should fall upon the field. He went tallsoldier fashion. He imagined secluded spots where he could fall and beunmolested. To search for one he strove against the tide of his pain.
Once he put his hand to the top of his head and timidly touched thewound. The scratching pain of the contact made him draw a long breaththrough his clinched teeth. His fingers were dabbled with blood. Heregarded them with a fixed stare.
Around him he could hear the grumble of jolted cannon as the scurryinghorses were lashed toward the front. Once, a young officer on abesplashed charger nearly ran him down. He turned and watched the massof guns, men, and horses sweeping in a wide curve toward a gap in afence. The officer was making excited motions with a gauntleted hand.The guns followed the teams with an air of unwillingness, of beingdragged by the heels.
Some officers of the scattered infantry were cursing and railing likefishwives. Their scolding voices could be heard above the din. Intothe unspeakable jumble in the roadway rode a squadron of cavalry. Thefaded yellow of their facings shone bravely. There was a mightyaltercation.
The artillery were assembling as if for a conference.
The blue haze of evening was upon the field. The lines of forest werelong purple shadows. One cloud lay along the western sky partlysmothering the red.
As the youth left the scene behind him, he heard the guns suddenly roarout. He imagined them shaking in black rage. They belched and howledlike brass devils guarding a gate. The soft air was filled with thetremendous remonstrance. With it came the shattering peal of opposinginfantry. Turning to look behind him, he could see sheets of orangelight illumine the shadowy distance. There were subtle and suddenlightnings in the far air. At times he thought he could see heavingmasses of men.
He hurried on in the dusk. The day had faded until he could barelydistinguish place for his feet. The purple darkness was filled withmen who lectured and jabbered. Sometimes he could see themgesticulating against the blue and somber sky. There seemed to be agreat ruck of men and munitions spread about in the forest and in thefields.
The little narrow roadway now lay lifeless. There were overturnedwagons like sun-dried bowlders. The bed of the former torrent waschoked with the bodies of horses and splintered parts of war machines.
It had come to pass that his wound pained him but little. He wasafraid to move rapidly, however, for a dread of disturbing it. He heldhis head very still and took many precautions against stumbling. Hewas filled with anxiety, and his face was pinched and drawn inanticipation of the pain of any sudden mistake of his feet in the gloom.
His thoughts, as he walked, fixed intently upon his hurt. There was acool, liquid feeling about it and he imagined blood moving slowly downunder his hair. His head seemed swollen to a size that made him thinkhis neck to be inadequate.
The new silence of his wound made much worriment. The littleblistering voices of pain that had called out from his scalp were, hethought, definite in their expression of danger. By them he believedthat he could measure his plight. But when they remained ominouslysilent he became frightened and imagined terrible fingers that clutchedinto his brain.
Amid it he began to reflect upon various incidents and conditions ofthe past. He bethought him of certain meals his mother had cooked athome, in which those dishes of which he was particularly fond hadoccupied prominent positions. He saw the spread table. The pine wallsof the kitchen were glowing in the warm light from the stove. Too, heremembered how he and his companions used to go from the schoolhouse tothe bank of a shaded pool. He saw his clothes in disorderly array uponthe grass of the bank. He felt the swash of the fragrant water uponhis body. The leaves of the overhanging maple rustled with melody inthe wind of youthful summer.
He was overcome presently by a dragging weariness. His head hungforward and his shoulders were stooped as if he were bearing a greatbundle. His feet shuffled along the ground.
He held continuous arguments as to whether he should lie down and sleepat some near spot, or force himself on until he reached a certainhaven. He often tried to dismiss the question, but his body persistedin rebellion and
his senses nagged at him like pampered babies.
At last he heard a cheery voice near his shoulder: "Yeh seem t' be in apretty bad way, boy?"
The youth did not look up, but he assented with thick tongue. "Uh!"
The owner of the cheery voice took him firmly by the arm. "Well," hesaid, with a round laugh, "I'm goin' your way. Th' hull gang is goin'your way. An' I guess I kin give yeh a lift." They began to walk likea drunken man and his friend.
As they went along, the man questioned the youth and assisted him withthe replies like one manipulating the mind of a child. Sometimes heinterjected anecdotes. "What reg'ment do yeh b'long teh? Eh? What'sthat? Th' 304th N' York? Why, what corps is that in? Oh, it is? Why,I thought they wasn't engaged t'-day--they 're 'way over in th' center.Oh, they was, eh? Well, pretty nearly everybody got their share 'afightin' t'-day. By dad, I give myself up fer dead any number 'atimes. There was shootin' here an' shootin' there, an' hollerin' herean' hollerin' there, in th' damn' darkness, until I couldn't tell t'save m' soul which side I was on. Sometimes I thought I was sure 'noughfrom Ohier, an' other times I could 'a swore I was from th' bitter endof Florida. It was th' most mixed up dern thing I ever see. An' thesehere hull woods is a reg'lar mess. It'll be a miracle if we find ourreg'ments t'-night. Pretty soon, though, we 'll meet a-plenty ofguards an' provost-guards, an' one thing an' another. Ho! there theygo with an off'cer, I guess. Look at his hand a-draggin'. He 's gotall th' war he wants, I bet. He won't be talkin' so big about hisreputation an' all when they go t' sawin' off his leg. Poor feller! Mybrother 's got whiskers jest like that. How did yeh git 'way over here,anyhow? Your reg'ment is a long way from here, ain't it? Well, Iguess we can find it. Yeh know there was a boy killed in my comp'nyt'-day that I thought th' world an' all of. Jack was a nice feller. Byginger, it hurt like thunder t' see ol' Jack jest git knocked flat. Wewas a-standin' purty peaceable fer a spell, 'though there was menrunnin' ev'ry way all 'round us, an' while we was a-standin' like that,'long come a big fat feller. He began t' peck at Jack's elbow, an' heses: 'Say, where 's th' road t' th' river?' An' Jack, he never paid noattention, an' th' feller kept on a-peckin' at his elbow an' sayin':'Say, where 's th' road t' th' river?' Jack was a-lookin' ahead allth' time tryin' t' see th' Johnnies comin' through th' woods, an' henever paid no attention t' this big fat feller fer a long time, but atlast he turned 'round an' he ses: 'Ah, go t' hell an' find th' road t'th' river!' An' jest then a shot slapped him bang on th' side th'head. He was a sergeant, too. Them was his last words. Thunder, Iwish we was sure 'a findin' our reg'ments t'-night. It 's goin' t' belong huntin'. But I guess we kin do it."
In the search which followed, the man of the cheery voice seemed to theyouth to possess a wand of a magic kind. He threaded the mazes of thetangled forest with a strange fortune. In encounters with guards andpatrols he displayed the keenness of a detective and the valor of agamin. Obstacles fell before him and became of assistance. The youth,with his chin still on his breast, stood woodenly by while hiscompanion beat ways and means out of sullen things.
The forest seemed a vast hive of men buzzing about in frantic circles,but the cheery man conducted the youth without mistakes, until at lasthe began to chuckle with glee and self-satisfaction. "Ah, there yehare! See that fire?"
The youth nodded stupidly.
"Well, there 's where your reg'ment is. An' now, good-by, ol' boy,good luck t' yeh."
A warm and strong hand clasped the youth's languid fingers for aninstant, and then he heard a cheerful and audacious whistling as theman strode away. As he who had so befriended him was thus passing outof his life, it suddenly occurred to the youth that he had not onceseen his face.