Marvin lay flat on his back, but turned his head to see if he could make out how badly his Indian was hurt. He could see that red was trickling from O. Fisher’s mouth, and that it bubbled when he spoke. He could not hear what was said, for within his own ears was the sound of many waters. But he perceived that Gregg was taking out his pencil and notebook. Gregg held the book directly over O. Fisher’s chest until the guide wrote something.
The pencil grew larger until it seemed a tree. O. Fisher’s fingers were slow brown animals making that tree move back and forth. They were trying to ride it down to get at the leaves....
Leaves, more likely straw, like that in the dugout. From one ton of wheat-straw could be produced alcohol equal to forty gallons of gasoline. Of course he did. Why should anybody ask him if he felt better?
He opened his eyes and saw Gregg looking down out of a cloud. He turned his head. This was no hillside, but the dressing station.
He raised himself on his right elbow and saw a form quite covered with a blanket except for the tan shoes. He studied the shoes. The toes did not lie wide apart, but turned in a trifle. That fact had some significance, but he felt too dizzy to say what. So he went to sleep again as if chloroformed.
Gregg returned to the company and took command. When he told the second lieutenants why, he saw that it was no use to attempt to preserve order. In five minutes the whole company was mobbing him, demanding details and receiving them as a personal insult. With oaths unbecoming the young they demanded that they be led back into position, and daylight be damned. They were made to know their place, but early the next morning they exacted reparation for that hand.
Chapter 18. Argon
Having determined to be an old maid, Jean worked at it as hard as she knew how. All the conditions were favorable. She came of the oldest New England stock, and nobody can deny that there have been old maids in New England—old maids both wise and charming. So Jean shunned men and cherished her dog, who was dearer to her than all the tomcats on earth, which is the third planet from the middle.
Shunning men in the wilderness is no great effort, especially where the youngest have departed for France. In fact there was one whom she did not shun at all. She found him all alone on the pier, motherless, sisterless, waiting for the boat. He had never been on a railroad in his life, yet here he was, drafted, and going abroad to be shot at. So she kissed him good-by and did not count that one. He wistfully hung over the rail as the boat started, and she kissed him again, and did not count that one either.
Though no man came to woo her, she did not lull herself into security. A prince might come—a young lumber prince to buy her pines. A baron might come—a fat one from Pittsburg, to steal her kisses and her island. She would be ready for them, as inert as a nun.