As he looked the youth gripped his outcry at his throat.
He saw that even if the men were tottering with fear they would
laugh at his warning. They would jeer him, and, if practicable,
pelt him with missiles. Admitting that he might be wrong,
a frenzied declamation of the kind would turn him into a worm.

He assumed, then, the demeanor of one who knows that he is doomed
alone to unwritten responsibilities. He lagged, with tragic
glances at the sky.

He was surprised presently by the young lieutenant of his company,
who began heartily to beat him with a sword, calling out in a loud
and insolent voice: "Come, young man, get up into ranks there.
No skulking 'll do here." He mended his pace with suitable haste.
And he hated the lieutenant, who had no appreciation of fine minds.
He was a mere brute.

After a time the brigade was halted in the cathedral light of a forest.
The busy skirmishers were still popping. Through the aisles of the
wood could be seen the floating smoke from their rifles.
Sometimes it went up in little balls, white and compact.

During this halt many men in the regiment began erecting tiny hills
in front of them. They used stones sticks, earth, and anything
they thought might turn a bullet. Some built comparatively
large ones, while others seems content with little ones.

This procedure caused a discussion among the men. Some wished to
fight like duelists, believing it to be correct to stand erect and be,
from their feet to their foreheads, a mark. They said they scorned