Lieutenant--easy."

The ragged palms and the sea and block-house were swallowed up in
a black fog, and his body touched the canvas cot again with a
sense of home-coming and relief and rest. He wondered how he
could have cared to escape from it. He found it so good to be
back again that for a long time he wept quite happily, until the
fiery pillow was moist and cool.

The world outside of the iron bars was like a scene in a theatre
set for some great event, but the actors were never ready. He
remembered confusedly a play he had once witnessed before that
same scene. Indeed, he believed he had played some small part in
it; but he remembered it dimly, and all trace of the men who had
appeared with him in it was gone. He had reasoned it out that
they were up there behind the range of mountains, because great
heavy wagons and ambulances and cannon were emptied from the
ships at the wharf above and were drawn away in long lines behind
the ragged palms, moving always toward the passes between the
peaks. At times he was disturbed by the thought that he should
be up and after them, that some tradition of duty made his
presence with them imperative. There was much to be done back of
the mountains. Some event of momentous import was being carried
forward there, in which he held a part; but the doubt soon passed
from him, and he was content to lie and watch the iron bars
rising and falling between the block-house and the white
surf.

If they had been only humanely kind, his lot would have been
bearable, but they starved him and held him down when he wished