|
||||||
|
|
||||||
|
Book, page 11 / 92 discernible in the atmosphere something like a pulse; a mystic beating which would have told a stranger of the presence of a giant thing--the slumbering mass of regiments and batteries. With tires forbidden, the floor of a dry old kitchen was thought to be a good exchange for the cold earth of December, even if a shell had exploded in it, and knocked it so out of shape that when a man lay curled in his blanket his last waking thought was likely to be of the wall that bellied out above him, as if strongly anxious to topple upon the score of soldiers. Billie looked at the bricks ever about to descend in a shower upon his face, listened to the industrious pickets plying their rifles on the border of the town, imagined some measure of the din of the coming battle, thought of Dan and Dan's chagrin, and rolling over in his blanket went to sleep with satisfaction. At an unknown hour he was aroused by the creaking of boards. Lifting himself upon his elbow, he saw a sergeant prowling among the sleeping forms. The sergeant carried a candle in an old brass candlestick. He would have resembled some old farmer on an unusual midnight tour if it were not for the significance of his gleaming buttons and striped sleeves. Billie blinked stupidly at the light until his mind returned from the journeys of slumber. The sergeant stooped among the unconscious soldiers, holding the candle close, and peering into each face. "Hello, Haines," said Billie. "Relief?" "Hello, Billie," said the sergeant. "Special duty." "Dan got to go?" "Jameson, Hunter, McCormack, D. Dempster. Yes. Where is he?" "Over there by the winder," said Billie, gesturing. "What is it for, Haines?" "You don't think I know, do you?" demanded the sergeant. He began to pipe sharply but cheerily at men upon the floor. "Come, Mac, get up
|
Knowledgerush Search
|
|
Contact Us
| Privacy Statement & Terms of Use
|