Nothing could be seen but the road, and a crucifix knocked slanting and
the dark, autumnal fields and woods. There appeared three horsemen on a
little eminence, very small, on the crest of a ploughed field. They were
our own men. Of the enemy, nothing.

The lull continued. Then suddenly came sharp orders, and a new direction
of the guns, and an intense, exciting activity. Yet at the centre the
soul remained dark and aloof, alone.

But even so, it was the soul that heard the new sound: the new, deep
'papp!' of a gun that seemed to touch right upon the soul. He kept up the
rapid activity at the machine-gun, sweating. But in his soul was the echo
of the new, deep sound, deeper than life.

And in confirmation came the awful faint whistling of a shell, advancing
almost suddenly into a piercing, tearing shriek that would tear through
the membrane of life. He heard it in his ears, but he heard it also in
his soul, in tension. There was relief when the thing had swung by and
struck, away beyond. He heard the hoarseness of its explosion, and the
voice of the soldier calling to the horses. But he did not turn round to
look. He only noticed a twig of holly with red berries fall like a gift
on to the road below.

Not this time, not this time. Whither thou goest I will go. Did he say it
to the shell, or to whom? Whither thou goest I will go. Then, the faint
whistling of another shell dawned, and his blood became small and still
to receive it. It drew nearer, like some horrible blast of wind; his
blood lost consciousness. But in the second of suspension he saw the
heavy shell swoop to earth, into the rocky bushes on the right, and earth