VI


"I seen Dan shoot a feller yesterday. Yes, sir. I'm sure it was him
that done it. And maybe he thinks about that feller now, and wonders if
he tumbled down just about the same way. Them things come up in a man's
mind."

Bivouac fires upon the sidewalks, in the streets, in the yards, threw
high their wavering reflections, which examined, like slim, red fingers,
the dingy, scarred walls and the piles of tumbled brick. The droning of
voices again arose from great blue crowds.

The odour of frying bacon, the fragrance from countless little coffee-
pails floated among the ruins. The rifles, stacked in the shadows,
emitted flashes of steely light. Wherever a flag lay horizontally from
one stack to another was the bed of an eagle which had led men into the
mystic smoke.

The men about a particular fire were engaged in holding in check their
jovial spirits. They moved whispering around the blaze, although they
looked at it with a certain fine contentment, like labourers after a
day's hard work.

There was one who sat apart. They did not address him save in tones
suddenly changed. They did not regard him directly, but always in little
sidelong glances.

At last a soldier from a distant fire came into this circle of light.