Beside the seminary stood a knot of horses, patient, heads bowed, their empty saddles shining like chocolate mirrors. That same man who held the little banner with its embroidered figure I was Morris, the man with principles against coffee-drinking. General Buford must be inside the building … The acrid haze spread apart for a moment, and Dan had a clear view of McPherson’s woods and the glittering fields which spread away to the north. On that ridge dwelt a fuzz of toy men who wriggled from stumps to walls, who lay behind the ragged shrubbery and fired rapidly toward the west. There were no enemies to be seen, no sign of their existence save for a rose-colored cone which bobbed out of sight in the valley ahead. I’ve seen a battle flag. Dan said: so that is what men follow to their death … Then haze went up from the wheat and down from the sky, closed together and shut those warring pygmies in a ruinous world of their own. Closer to the ears, the constant cry kept trilling beyond the rifle reports, as if five thousand ghosts were howling together.

A man crept out from the first line of trees; he came on his hands and one knee, crawling methodically and apparently without pain. One leg dragged loosely behind him; his boot was torn half off. Bale went toward him. Something said wasss close above his head, and a few leaves flickered past. The crawling man constructed a terrible grin of his whitish face. “No.” He shook a stubborn head. “I can make it, easy. This isn’t the first time for me.” He padded rapidly past, and then turned and called, “If you’re dead set on it, there’s plenty worse wounded that need help. But I’d advise you to retire. No place for citizens.”

Dan asked, “What is that sound?”

“Sound?” Wearily, the man lifted his hand and wiped the jewels of perspiration from his forehead. “Yelling noise?”

“I thought it must be the wounded. But—”

The soldier smirked fiendishly. “Rebels. They always do that.” He crept on toward the seminary … “Hey,” someone cried. “Hey. Civilian!” A thin, bald-headed officer had risen from behind a log, and was beckoning with the field-glasses in his hand. He jerked his head toward the rear. Want to get killed, he was shouting—get back out of this. The guns exploded, exploded … Dan came back; still he could detect the greasy hum of bullets close around. The officer shook his sunburnt head at him. “It passes understanding. If I were out of this, I’d not tempt Providence.”

“Will they come this far?”

The officer spat a cud upon the trampled sod. “You’ll be safer in—say, Philadelphia. Take yourself in that direction before a minie bites you.” He crouched once more, and lifted the glass.