"No time for sentiment, Dick. What else do you see?"

"Jets of smoke and flame from the trenches, an irregular sort of firing,
sometimes a half-dozen shots at one place, and then a long and peaceful
break until you come to another place, where they're exchanging bullets."

"What more do you see, Brother Richard?"

"I see a Johnny come out of his trench hands up and advance toward one of
our Yanks opposite, who also has come out of his trench hands up."

"What are they trading?" asked Warner.

"The Reb offers a square of plug tobacco, and the Yank a bundle of
newspapers. Now they've made the exchange, now they've shaken hands and
each is going back to his own trench."

"It's a merry world, my masters, as has been said before," resumed Warner,
"but I should add that it's also a mad wag of a world. Here we are face
to face for forty miles, at some points seeking to kill one another in
a highly impersonal way, and at other points conducting sale and barter
according to the established customs of peace. People at home wouldn't
believe it, and later on a lot more won't believe it, when the writers
come to write about it. But it's true just the same. What else do you
see from the apple tower, Brother Richard?"

"A long line of wagons approaching a camp some distance behind the
Confederate trenches. They must be loaded pretty heavily, because the
drivers are cracking their whips over the horses and mules."