I looked around for shelter from the Federal cannon; although the shells went high, it would be folly for me to go forward into the place of danger. The hill was bare. There was no depression, no tree, no fence, nothing but the open wind-swept hill--desolate and bare. I was on this bare hill.
A man passed me from the rear. He was armed. He, too, like myself, had no doubt come from the picket-line.
"Better leg it!" he cried--and I legged it with him, making for the breastworks.
The shells from the rear seemed to fly over at a less height.
One of the shells burst over my head.
Suddenly I saw my companion throw up one hand--his left hand--with great violence, and fall flat; hardly was I conscious that I saw him fall; at the instant there was a deafening noise, and I was conscious of nothing.
XX
THE MASK OF IGNORANCE
"I am mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night."--SHAKESPEARE.