Chapter 14

When the youth awoke it seemed to him that he had been asleep for a thousand years, and he felt sure that he opened his eyes upon an unexpected world. Gray mists were slowly shifting before the first efforts of the sun rays. An impending splendor could be seen in the eastern sky. An icy dew had chilled his face, and immediately upon arousing he curled farther down into his blanket. He stared for a while at the leaves overhead, moving in a heraldic wind of the day.

When the young man woke, he felt as though he had slept for a thousand years. He was sure he had opened his eyes on an unexpected world. Gray mists slowly shifted in the sun’s first rays. A brilliant light was about to fill the eastern sky. Icy dew had chilled his face, and as soon as he woke, he curled deeper into his blanket. For a while, he stared at the leaves overhead as they moved in a wind that announced the coming day.

The distance was splintering and blaring with the noise of fighting. There was in the sound an expression of a deadly persistency, as if it had not began and was not to cease.

In the distance, the noise of fighting splintered and blared. The sound had a deadly persistence, as if it had never begun and would never stop.

About him were the rows and groups of men that he had dimly seen the previous night. They were getting a last draught of sleep before the awakening. The gaunt, careworn features and dusty figures were made plain by this quaint light at the dawning, but it dressed the skin of the men in corpse-like hues and made the tangled limbs appear pulseless and dead. The youth started up with a little cry when his eyes first swept over this motionless mass of men, thick-spread upon the ground, pallid, and in strange postures. His disordered mind interpreted the hall of the forest as a charnel place. He believed for an instant that he was in the house of the dead, and he did not dare to move lest these corpses start up, squalling and squawking. In a second, however, he achieved his proper mind. He swore a complicated oath at himself. He saw that this somber picture was not a fact of the present, but a mere prophecy.

Around him lay the rows and groups of men he had barely seen the night before. They were getting a last taste of sleep before waking. The strange dawn light made their gaunt, weary faces and dusty bodies clear. But it gave their skin the color of corpses and made their tangled limbs look lifeless. When the youth first saw the motionless mass of men spread thickly across the ground, he sat up with a little cry. They were pale and lay in strange positions. In his confused mind, the forest seemed like a place for the dead. For an instant, he believed he was in a house of the dead. He did not dare move, for fear the corpses would spring up, shrieking and squawking. A second later, though, he came to his senses. He cursed himself at length. He saw that this grim scene was not real yet. It was only a glimpse of what was to come.

He heard then the noise of a fire crackling briskly in the cold air, and, turning his head, he saw his friend pottering busily about a small blaze. A few other figures moved in the fog, and he heard the hard cracking of axe blows.

He heard a fire crackling briskly in the cold air. He turned his head and saw his friend busying himself around a small blaze. A few other figures moved in the fog, and he heard the sharp cracks of axe blows.

Suddenly there was a hollow rumble of drums. A distant bugle sang faintly. Similar sounds, varying in strength, came from near and far over the forest. The bugles called to each other like brazen gamecocks. The near thunder of the regimental drums rolled.

Suddenly, drums rumbled hollowly. A distant bugle sounded faintly. Similar sounds, some louder than others, came from near and far across the forest. The bugles called to each other like brassy fighting roosters. Nearby, the regiment’s drums rolled like thunder.

The body of men in the woods rustled. There was a general uplifting of heads. A murmuring of voices broke upon the air. In it there was much bass of grumbling oaths. Strange gods were addressed in condemnation of the early hours necessary to correct war. An officer’s peremptory tenor rang out and quickened the stiffened movement of the men. The tangled limbs unraveled. The corpse-hued faces were hidden behind fists that twisted slowly in the eye sockets.

The men in the woods stirred. Heads rose all around. Voices began to murmur, with many deep voices grumbling and swearing. They called on strange gods to curse the early hours required to wage war properly. An officer’s commanding tenor rang out, and the men moved faster despite their stiffness. Their tangled limbs came apart. They hid their corpse-colored faces behind fists that slowly rubbed their eyes.

The youth sat up and gave vent to an enormous yawn. “Thunder!” he remarked petulantly. He rubbed his eyes, and then putting up his hand felt carefully the bandage over his wound. His friend, perceiving him to be awake, came from the fire. “Well, Henry, ol’ man, how do yeh feel this mornin’?” he demanded.

The young man sat up and let out an enormous yawn. “Darn!” he said irritably. He rubbed his eyes, then carefully felt the bandage over his wound. His friend saw that he was awake and came over from the fire. “Well, Henry, old man, how do you feel this morning?” he asked.

The youth yawned again. Then he puckered his mouth to a little pucker. His head, in truth, felt precisely like a melon, and there was an unpleasant sensation at his stomach.

The youth yawned again. Then he puckered his lips. His head really did feel exactly like a melon, and his stomach felt unpleasant.

“Oh, Lord, I feel pretty bad,” he said.

“Oh, Lord, I feel pretty bad,” he said.

“Thunder!” exclaimed the other. “I hoped ye’d feel all right this mornin’. Let’s see th’ bandage—I guess it’s slipped.” He began to tinker at the wound in rather a clumsy way until the youth exploded.

“Thunder!” exclaimed the other man. “I hoped you’d feel all right this morning. Let me see the bandage. I think it’s slipped.” He began to fuss with the wound rather clumsily until the young man exploded.

“Gosh-dern it!” he said in sharp irritation; “you’re the hangdest man I ever saw! You wear muffs on your hands. Why in good thunderation can’t you be more easy? I’d rather you’d stand off an’ throw guns at it. Now, go slow, an’ don’t act as if you was nailing down carpet.”

“Damn it!” he said sharply. “You’re the clumsiest man I ever saw! It’s like you’re wearing mittens. Why on earth can’t you be gentler? I’d rather you stood back and threw guns at it. Now, go slow, and don’t act as if you’re nailing down a carpet.”

He glared with insolent command at his friend, but the latter answered soothingly. “Well, well, come now, an’ git some grub,” he said. “Then, maybe, yeh’ll feel better.”

He glared at his friend with defiant authority, but his friend answered soothingly. “Well, well, come on and get some food,” he said. “Then, maybe you’ll feel better.”

At the fireside the loud young soldier watched over his comrade’s wants with tenderness and care. He was very busy marshaling the little black vagabonds of tin cups and pouring into them the streaming iron colored mixture from a small and sooty tin pail. He had some fresh meat, which he roasted hurriedly on a stick. He sat down then and contemplated the youth’s appetite with glee.

By the fire, the loud young soldier tended to his comrade’s needs with tenderness and care. He was busy lining up the little black, wandering tin cups. He poured a stream of iron-colored liquid into them from a small, sooty tin pail. He had some fresh meat, which he quickly roasted on a stick. Then he sat down and watched the youth’s appetite with delight.

The youth took note of a remarkable change in his comrade since those days of camp life upon the river bank. He seemed no more to be continually regarding the proportions of his personal prowess. He was not furious at small words that pricked his conceits. He was no more a loud young soldier. There was about him now a fine reliance. He showed a quiet belief in his purposes and his abilities. And this inward confidence evidently enabled him to be indifferent to little words of other men aimed at him.

The youth noticed a remarkable change in his comrade since their days in camp by the river. His comrade no longer seemed to dwell on how brave and capable he was. He no longer grew furious at small remarks that challenged his high opinion of himself. He was no longer a loud young soldier. He now had a fine self-reliance. He showed a quiet belief in his goals and abilities. This inner confidence evidently allowed him to ignore the petty remarks other men aimed at him.

The youth reflected. He had been used to regarding his comrade as a blatant child with an audacity grown from his inexperience, thoughtless, headstrong, jealous, and filled with a tinsel courage. A swaggering babe accustomed to strut in his own dooryard. The youth wondered where had been born these new eyes; when his comrade had made the great discovery that there were many men who would refuse to be subjected by him. Apparently, the other had now climbed a peak of wisdom from which he could perceive himself as a very wee thing. And the youth saw that ever after it would be easier to live in his friend’s neighborhood.

The young man thought it over. He had been used to seeing his comrade as a loud child, bold only because he lacked experience. He had thought him careless, stubborn, jealous, and full of cheap, showy courage. He was a swaggering baby, used to strutting around his own doorstep. The young man wondered where his comrade had gained this new vision. When had he discovered that many men would refuse to be dominated by him? Apparently, his comrade had now climbed a peak of wisdom, where he could see himself as a very small thing. And the young man saw that from then on, his friend would be easier to live alongside.

His comrade balanced his ebony coffee-cup on his knee. “Well, Henry,” he said, “what d’yeh think th’ chances are? D’yeh think we’ll wallop ’em?”

His comrade balanced his black coffee cup on his knee. “Well, Henry,” he said, “what do you think our chances are? Do you think we’ll beat them?”

The youth considered for a moment. “Day-b’fore-yesterday,” he finally replied, with boldness, “you would ’a’ bet you’d lick the hull kit-an’-boodle all by yourself.”

The young man thought for a moment. “The day before yesterday,” he finally replied boldly, “you would have bet you could beat the whole lot all by yourself.”

His friend looked a trifle amazed. “Would I?” he asked. He pondered. “Well, perhaps I would,” he decided at last. He stared humbly at the fire.

His friend looked a little surprised. “Would I?” he asked. He thought about it. “Well, perhaps I would,” he finally decided. He stared humbly at the fire.

The youth was quite disconcerted at this surprising reception of his remarks. “Oh, no, you wouldn’t either,” he said, hastily trying to retrace.

The young man was quite unsettled by the surprising response to his remarks. “Oh, no, you wouldn’t either,” he said, quickly trying to take back what he had said.

But the other made a deprecating gesture. “Oh, yeh needn’t mind, Henry,” he said. “I believe I was a pretty big fool in those days.” He spoke as after a lapse of years.

But the other man waved off the concern. “Oh, you don’t need to worry about it, Henry,” he said. “I think I was a pretty big fool back then.” He spoke as if years had passed.

There was a little pause.

There was a brief pause.

“All th’ officers say we’ve got th’ rebs in a pretty tight box,” said the friend, clearing his throat in a commonplace way. “They all seem t’ think we’ve got ’em jest where we want ’em.”

“All the officers say we’ve got the rebels in a pretty tight spot,” said the friend, clearing his throat casually. “They all seem to think we’ve got the rebels right where we want them.”

“I don’t know about that,” the youth replied. “What I seen over on th’ right makes me think it was th’ other way about. From where I was, it looked as if we was gettin’ a good poundin’ yestirday.”

“I don’t know about that,” the young man replied. “What I saw on the right makes me think it was the other way around. From where I was, it looked as if we were getting badly beaten yesterday.”

“D’yeh think so?” inquired the friend. “I thought we handled ’em pretty rough yestirday.”

“Do you think so?” asked the friend. “I thought we handled them pretty roughly yesterday.”

“Not a bit,” said the youth. “Why, lord, man, you didn’t see nothing of the fight. Why!” Then a sudden thought came to him. “Oh! Jim Conklin’s dead.”

“Not at all,” said the young man. “Why, man, you didn’t see any of the fight. Why!” Then a sudden thought came to him. “Oh! Jim Conklin is dead.”

His friend started. “What? Is he? Jim Conklin?”

His friend flinched. “What? Is he? Jim Conklin?”

The youth spoke slowly. “Yes. He’s dead. Shot in th’ side.”

The young man spoke slowly. “Yes. He’s dead. Shot in the side.”

“Yeh don’t say so. Jim Conklin. . .poor cuss!”

“You don't say. Jim Conklin... poor guy!”

All about them were other small fires surrounded by men with their little black utensils. From one of these near came sudden sharp voices in a row. It appeared that two light-footed soldiers had been teasing a huge, bearded man, causing him to spill coffee upon his blue knees. The man had gone into a rage and had sworn comprehensively. Stung by his language, his tormentors had immediately bristled at him with a great show of resenting unjust oaths. Possibly there was going to be a fight.

All around them, men sat by other small fires with their little black utensils. Suddenly, angry voices rose from one nearby fire. It seemed that two quick-footed soldiers had been teasing a huge, bearded man, making him spill coffee on his blue-clad knees. The man had flown into a rage and cursed thoroughly. Stung by his language, the two soldiers immediately bristled. They made a great show of taking offense at his unjust curses. There might be a fight.

The friend arose and went over to them, making pacific motions with his arms. “Oh, here, now, boys, what’s th’ use?” he said. “We’ll be at th’ rebs in less’n an hour. What’s th’ good fightin’ ’mong ourselves?”

The friend got up and went over to them, waving his arms to calm them down. “Oh, come on, boys, what’s the point?” he said. “We’ll be fighting the rebels in less than an hour. What’s the point of fighting among ourselves?”

One of the light-footed soldiers turned upon him red-faced and violent. “Yeh needn’t come around here with yer preachin’. I s’pose yeh don’t approve ’a fightin’ since Charley Morgan licked yeh; but I don’t see what business this here is ’a yours or anybody else.”

One of the quick-footed soldiers turned on him, red-faced and angry. “You don’t need to come around here preaching. I suppose you don’t approve of fighting since Charley Morgan beat you. But I don’t see how this is any business of yours or anyone else’s.”

“Well, it ain’t,” said the friend mildly. “Still I hate t’ see—”

“Well, it isn’t,” the friend said gently. “Still, I hate to see...”

There was a tangled argument.

There was a confused argument.

“Well, he—,” said the two, indicating their opponent with accusative forefingers.

“Well, he...” said the two, pointing accusingly at their opponent.

The huge soldier was quite purple with rage. He pointed at the two soldiers with his great hand, extended clawlike. “Well, they—”

The huge soldier was purple with rage. He pointed at the two soldiers with his great hand, his fingers spread like claws. “Well, they...”

But during this argumentative time the desire to deal blows seemed to pass, although they said much to each other. Finally the friend returned to his old seat. In a short while the three antagonists could be seen together in an amiable bunch.

But as they argued, the desire to hit each other seemed to fade, although they still had plenty to say. Finally, the friend returned to his old seat. Soon, the three opponents could be seen together in a friendly group.

“Jimmie Rogers ses I’ll have t’ fight him after th’ battle t’-day,” announced the friend as he again seated himself. “He ses he don’t allow no interferin’ in his business. I hate t’ see th’ boys fightin’ ’mong themselves.”

“Jimmie Rogers says I’ll have to fight him after the battle today,” announced the friend as he sat down again. “He says he won’t let anyone interfere in his business. I hate to see the boys fighting among themselves.”

The youth laughed. “Yer changed a good bit. Yeh ain’t at all like yeh was. I remember when you an’ that Irish feller—” He stopped and laughed again.

The young man laughed. “You’ve changed quite a bit. You’re not at all like you used to be. I remember when you and that Irish guy...” He stopped and laughed again.

“No, I didn’t use t’ be that way,” said his friend thoughtfully. “That’s true ’nough.”

“No, I didn’t use to be that way,” said his friend thoughtfully. “That’s true enough.”

“Well, I didn’t mean—” began the youth.

“Well, I didn’t mean...” the young man began.

The friend made another deprecatory gesture. “Oh, yeh needn’t mind, Henry.”

The friend made another dismissive gesture. “Oh, you don’t need to mind, Henry.”

There was another little pause.

There was another short pause.

“Th’ reg’ment lost over half th’ men yestirday,” remarked the friend eventually. “I thought ’a course they was all dead, but, laws, they kep’ a-comin’ back last night until it seems, after all, we didn’t lose but a few. They’d been scattered all over, wanderin’ around in th’ woods, fightin’ with other reg’ments, an’ everything. Jest like you done.”

“The regiment lost more than half its men yesterday,” the friend finally said. “Of course, I thought they were all dead. But, gosh, they kept coming back last night. After all, it seems we only lost a few. They had scattered all over, wandering around in the woods, fighting with other regiments, and all sorts of things. Just like you did.”

“So?” said the youth.

“So?” said the young man.