He left it all behind him: the rock-skulled hills, the timbered dens, the thickets of Plum Run gorge where catbirds meowed and peeked at him. A thousand steps: pace, pace, pace again: and he was not conscious of having driven his body up the fields. When he came to the Emmetsburg road by Sherfys’ peach orchard, a dust cloud was moving from the southwest. It resolved itself into flashing spokes, lacquered staves, a black gelding—all the panoply of a gay cut-under buggy driven by Elijah Huddlestone. Dan stepped aside as the rig sped toward him, but Elijah whistled, and drew on the reins.

Amelia Niede sat on the seat with him, and her white muslin dress was well sprinkled with dust. Again she wore the hat with painted strawberries, and patches of rose were smothered in her flat cheeks; Elijah had kissed her this day—the first kiss he had ever given her … If he went to the war, he might come back an officer. Officers were men of importance; in some magnificent way they acquired manners and property and short beards, and people spoke to them with deference; not even Henry Niede could look with contempt at an officer … There was something the matter with Elijah, with Elijah’s private parts. People whispered, “He has a rupture,” but like enough that would never interfere with him, in war … If Elijah became an officer with lapels of blue-black plush, they would be married at the Lutheran church, and live in the village, and never again would Amelia have to milk six cows. They would have their pictures made, she and Elijah; he would sit in a chair, knees crossed, and she would stand beside him, and the photographer would tint their faces pink.

She squeezed her bony fingers closer together.

Elijah yelled. “I’m hustling right back to town. Maybe Major Haller’s got word by now. You climb in with us, Dan.”

“No,” Bale said, “I’ll walk home across the fields … I’ve been picnicking in solitary contentment.”

“You look like it agreed with you, I must say. See here: remember I told you last night that we’d get at least fifty fellows from Penn college? Well, there’s fifty-seven already signed the roll!”

He waved the tasseled whip; his eyes were open wide, and he wore an immense stock which seemed ready to garrote him. “The major says we’re apt to leave for Harrisburg any minute, once he gets permission for the ‘existing emergency’ enlistments. I tell you, Dan, the country’s full of rebels! They’re pouring into Maryland like flies; the Star and Banner’s been posting bulletins all day. Some folks say it’s only rumors; I don’t believe it. They’re holding mass-meetings in Philadelphia, and Governor Curtin’s ordering cannon from—”

“Go on to your blamed war,” Dan ordered.