way. At times he imagined that he could recognise his brother's face.

He and the man on the other end of the trunk thoughtfully talked of the
army's position. To their minds, infantry and artillery were in a most
precarious jumble in the streets of the town; but they did not grow
nervous over it, for they were used to having the army appear in a
precarious jumble to their minds. They had learned to accept such
puzzling situations as a consequence of their position in the ranks, and
were now usually in possession of a simple but perfectly immovable faith
that somebody understood the jumble. Even if they had been convinced
that the army was a headless monster, they would merely have nodded with
the veteran's singular cynicism. It was none of their business as
soldiers. Their duty was to grab sleep and food when occasion permitted,
and cheerfully fight wherever their feet were planted until more orders
came. This was a task sufficiently absorbing.

They spoke of other corps, and this talk being confidential, their
voices dropped to tones of awe. "The Ninth"--"The First"--"The Fifth"--
"The Sixth"--"The Third"--the simple numerals rang with eloquence, each
having a meaning which was to float through many years as no intangible
arithmetical mist, but as pregnant with individuality as the names of
cities.

Of their own corps they spoke with a deep veneration, an idolatry, a
supreme confidence which apparently would not blanch to see it match
against everything.

It was as if their respect for other corps was due partly to a wonder
that organisations not blessed with their own famous numeral could take
such an interest in war. They could prove that their division was the