"I presume so," remarked the general.Then he began to talk rapidly and in a lower tone.He frequently illustrated his words with a pointing finger.The two infantrymen could hear nothing until finally he asked: "What troops can you spare?"The officer who rode like a cowboy reflected for an instant."Well," he said, "I had to order in th' 12th to help th' 76th, an' I haven't really got any.But there's th' 304th.They fight like a lot 'a mule drivers.I can spare them best of any."The youth and his friend exchanged glances of astonishment.
The general spoke sharply."Get 'em ready, then.I'll watch developments from here, an'
send you word when t' start them.It'll happen in five minutes."As the other officer tossed his fingers toward his cap and wheeling his horse, started away, the general called out to him in a sober voice: "Idon't believe many of your mule drivers will get back."The other shouted something in reply.He smiled.
With scared faces, the youth and his compan-ion hurried back to the line.
These happenings had occupied an incredibly short time, yet the youth felt that in them he had been made aged.New eyes were given to him.
And the most startling thing was to learn sud-denly that he was very insignificant.The officer spoke of the regiment as if he referred to a broom.Some part of the woods needed sweep-ing, perhaps, and he merely indicated a broom in a tone properly indifferent to its fate.It was war, no doubt, but it appeared strange.
As the two boys approached the line, the lieu-tenant perceived them and swelled with wrath.
"Fleming--Wilson--how long does it take yeh to git water, anyhow--where yeh been to."But his oration ceased as he saw their eyes, which were large with great tales."We're goin'
t' charge--we're goin' t' charge!" cried the youth's friend, hastening with his news.
"Charge?" said the lieutenant."Charge?
Well, b'Gawd! Now, this is real fightin'." Over his soiled countenance there went a boastful smile."Charge? Well, b'Gawd!"A little group of soldiers surrounded the two youths."Are we, sure 'nough? Well, I'll be derned! Charge? What fer? What at? Wil-son, you're lyin'."
"I hope to die," said the youth, pitching his tones to the key of angry remonstrance."Sure as shooting, I tell you."And his friend spoke in re-enforcement."Not by a blame sight, he ain't lyin'.We heard 'em talkin'."They caught sight of two mounted figures a short distance from them.One was the colonel of the regiment and the other was the officer who had received orders from the commander of the division.They were gesticulating at each other.
The soldier, pointing at them, interpreted the scene.
One man had a final objection: "How could yeh hear 'em talkin'?" But the men, for a large part, nodded, admitting that previously the two friends had spoken truth.
They settled back into reposeful attitudes with airs of having accepted the matter.And they mused upon it, with a hundred varieties of expression.It was an engrossing thing to think about.Many tightened their belts carefully and hitched at their trousers.
A moment later the officers began to bustle among the men, pushing them into a more com-pact mass and into a better alignment.They chased those that straggled and fumed at a few men who seemed to show by their attitudes that they had decided to remain at that spot.They were like critical shepherds struggling with sheep.
Presently, the regiment seemed to draw itself up and heave a deep breath.None of the men's faces were mirrors of large thoughts.The sol-diers were bended and stooped like sprinters be-fore a signal.Many pairs of glinting eyes peered from the grimy faces toward the curtains of the deeper woods.They seemed to be engaged in deep calculations of time and distance.
They were surrounded by the noises of the monstrous altercation between the two armies.
The world was fully interested in other matters.
Apparently, the regiment had its small affair to itself.
The youth, turning, shot a quick, inquiring glance at his friend.The latter returned to him the same manner of look.They were the only ones who possessed an inner knowledge."Mule drivers--hell t' pay--don't believe many will get back." It was an ironical secret.Still, they saw no hesitation in each other's faces, and they nod-ded a mute and unprotesting assent when a shag-gy man near them said in a meek voice: "We'll git swallowed."
