When Bale came back with the bucket of water and a piece of torn quilt, the column was moving up the hill and filing left through a fresh gap in the fence, across the seminary campus. High on the ridge among the trees, a United Sates flag wavered, a gay, candied flake that could have no reality, no concern with worn-out horses which slobbered in the road. Still the troops came riding out of Gettysburg, and swung trampling to one side as they passed the stricken animal and the solitary man beside it.

Dan said, “Here’s the water. If you soak this old quilt and lay it over his head—” Thick bubbles were swelling from the horse’s nose; within the shiny body its intestines rumbled and growled. The trooper looked up at Bale, and shrugged. Eyes like little gray pebbles … he was much younger than Dan, younger than Elijah. “No use, mister. He’s done for. I’ll have to ketch a remount.” He drew the carbine out of its holster by the saddle, swung it against his shoulder, and held the muzzle close to the gelding’s ear. The report boomed out, slapping upon all nearby hills; a scatter of dust mingled with powder smoke as the bullet drove through. Legs, neck, tail, the dead beast seemed to press itself deeper and deeper into the warm gray bed where it lay … gas inside its body still burbled. Thud and clatter, the soldiers skirted past. A deep voice called, “Get that critter outa the road.”

The dismounted man was bending down to unfasten the saddle-girth, the holster, haversack and roll of blanket; he did not look up or reply to this order. Dan set down his pail of water and went out to help. “Don’t you use a martingale?” he heard himself asking. The soldier said, “Not us. They’re all right for new recruits,” he added scornfully. He dragged the girth from under the prostrate carcass and piled equipment in front of the gate. “Wait’ll I git the bridle, mister.” And when he had done so, “Now if you’ll ketch holt with me.” Each took hold of an outflung leg; two other men swung down to help them; the four of them dragged the dead animal into the ditch … there were little foamy pools where the horse had lain, and scarcely any blood. “Thanky,” the soldiers said to Dan. “Mind if we have some water?” They grouped around the pail, drinking very little, coughing, gargling the water and spitting it out upon the ground.