Some people were moving, over beyond the west fence, coming out of the thin woods. When they had passed the trees, Dan could see that they were not soldiers but citizens. Three men. They had a two-wheeled cart and a horse; one of the men led the horse and the two others strolled behind. There was something familiar abut the leader; he had a sullen, methodical gait; his arm swung curved at his side.

“Mr. Niede,” Dan called. They all stopped and the leader turned, staring. Bale climbed across the broken rails and pushed through the fringe of bushes; he fell over something; it, too, made a sound. He got up and went on.

Henry Niede said, “Well, Dan Bale.” The two men behind the cart moved closer together. They were both bearded; they wore straw hats; one of them was playing with a gilt watch-fob that dangled from his waistcoat.

“I was down here, looking—” said Dan, and then he stopped. He walked over to the cart; something said, Go and see.

“Take care,” barked the youngest man. His beard was silky. He looked frightened. The cart had something in it covered with canvas … Henry Niede clutched the horse’s bridle with both hands. “Now, look once,” he began hastily. “They spoiled my wheat already. I guess I got to live. Anyway, these things should be got out of the way.”

Both of the others said, “Take care,” and sharply. Bale pulled back the dirty piece of canvas. He couldn’t tell much about it; there was a black mustache. He felt something fiery turn over in his stomach. He reached forward and touched the cargo. There was a numeral in brass; it said 26. Voice announced, We’re the Twenty-sixth, now. The Gettysburg boys make up Company A.

He rearranged the canvas and walked around to the front of the cart. Niede stepped back and let go of the bridle. One of the doctors cried, “Just a moment, my good man!” Bale didn’t look at them. Niede yelled, “And maybe I should starve to death if they make a mess by my farm? I never got my wheat; and now there is a hole in my house roof costs fifty dollars. Ja, it costs maybe sixty. Three dollars apiece is all I get for these here.”

Dan said, “That’s Elijah Huddlestone.” Niede’s gaze groped for a moment; he looked genuinely startled. “Donnerwedder,” he whispered. Bale struck him on the chin as hard as he could and sent him rolling. He turned around; one of the men had picked up a stone. “Put that down, or I’ll kill you,” Dan told him. Niede was making a terrible noise, but not loud. The men fell back a few steps; the one with the stone breathed rapidly, and looked at Dan.