The news that the regiment had been reproached went along the line. For a time the men were bewildered by it. “Good thunder!” they ejaculated, staring at the vanishing form of the general. They conceived it to be a huge mistake.
Presently, however, they began to believe that in truth their efforts had been called light. The youth could see this conviction weigh upon the entire regiment until the men were like cuffed and cursed animals, but withal rebellious.
The friend, with a grievance in his eye, went to the youth. “I wonder what he does want,” he said. “He must think we went out there an’ played marbles! I never see sech a man!”
The youth developed a tranquil philosophy for these moments of irritation. “Oh, well,” he rejoined, “he probably didn’t see nothing of it at all and got mad as blazes, and concluded we were a lot of sheep, just because we didn’t do what he wanted done. It’s a pity old Grandpa Henderson got killed yestirday—he’d have known that we did our best and fought good. It’s just our awful luck, that’s what.”
“I should say so,” replied the friend. He seemed to be deeply wounded at an injustice. “I should say we did have awful luck! There’s no fun in fightin’ fer people when everything yeh do—no matter what—ain’t done right. I have a notion t’ stay behind next time an’ let ’em take their ol’ charge an’ go t’ th’ devil with it.”
The youth spoke soothingly to his comrade. “Well, we both did good. I’d like to see the fool what’d say we both didn’t do as good as we could!”
“Of course we did,” declared the friend stoutly. “An’ I’d break th’ feller’s neck if he was as big as a church. But we’re all right, anyhow, for I heard one feller say that we two fit th’ best in th’ reg’ment, an’ they had a great argument ’bout it. Another feller, ’a course, he had t’ up an’ say it was a lie—he seen all what was goin’ on an’ he never seen us from th’ beginnin’ t’ th’ end. An’ a lot more stuck in an’ ses it wasn’t a lie—we did fight like thunder, an’ they give us quite a sendoff. But this is what I can’t stand—these everlastin’ ol’ soldiers, titterin’ an’ laughin’, an then that general, he’s crazy.”
The youth exclaimed with sudden exasperation: “He’s a lunkhead! He makes me mad. I wish he’d come along next time. We’d show ’im what—”
He ceased because several men had come hurrying up. Their faces expressed a bringing of great news.
“O Flem, yeh jest oughta heard!” cried one, eagerly.