The youth fell back in the procession until the soldier was not in sight. Then he started to walk on with the others.  
But he was amid wounds. The mob of men was bleeding. Because of the tattered soldier's question he now felt that his shame could be viewed. He was continually casting sidelong glances to see if the men were the letters of he felt burned into his brow.
 
At times he regarded the wounded soldiers in an way. He conceived persons with torn bodies to be peculiarly happy. He wished that he, too, had a wound, a red badge of courage.
 
The soldier was at his side like a stalking reproach. The man's eyes were still in a stare into the unknown. His gray, face had attracted attention in the crowd, and men, slowing to his pace, were walking with him. They were discussing his , questioning him and giving him advice. In a dogged way he them, signing to them to go on and leave him alone. The shadows of his face were deepening and his tight lips seemed holding in check the moan of great despair. There could be seen a certain stiffness in the movements of his body, as if he were taking infinite care not to arouse the passion of his wounds. As he went on, he seemed always looking for a place, like one who goes to choose a grave.
 
Something in the gesture of the man as he waved the and pitying soldiers away made the youth start as if bitten. He yelled in horror. forward he laid a quivering hand upon the man's arm. As the latter slowly turned his waxlike features toward him the youth screamed:
 
"Gawd! Jim Conklin!"
 
The tall soldier made a little commonplace smile. "Hello, Henry," he said.
 
The youth swayed on his legs and glared strangely. He stuttered and . "Oh, Jim--oh, Jim--oh, Jim--"
 
The tall soldier held out his hand. There was a curious red and black combination of new blood and old blood upon it. "Where yeh been, Henry?" he asked. He continued in a voice, "I thought mebbe yeh got keeled over. There 's been thunder t' pay t'-day. I was worryin' about it a good deal."
 
The youth still . "Oh, Jim--oh, Jim--oh, Jim--"
 
"Yeh know," said the tall soldier, "I was out there." He made a careful gesture. "An', Lord, what a circus! An', b'jiminey, I got shot--I got shot. Yes, b'jiminey, I got shot." He this fact in a bewildered way, as if he did not know how it came about.
 
The youth put anxious arms to assist him, but the tall soldier went firmly as if propelled. Since the youth's arrival as a for his friend, the other wounded men had ceased to display much interest. They occupied themselves again in dragging their own tragedies toward the rear.
 
Suddenly, as the two friends marched on, the tall soldier seemed to be overcome by a . His face turned to a of gray paste. He clutched the youth's arm and looked all about him, as if to be overheard. Then he began to speak in a shaking whisper:
 
"I tell yeh what I'm 'fraid of, Henry--I'll tell yeh what I'm 'fraid of. I 'm 'fraid I 'll fall down--an' them yeh know--them damned wagons--they like as not 'll run over me. That 's what I 'm 'fraid of--"
 
The youth cried out to him : "I 'll take care of yeh, Jim! I 'll take care of yeh! I swear t' Gawd I will!"
 
"Sure--will yeh, Henry?" the tall soldier beseeched.
 
"Yes--yes--I tell yeh--I'll take care of yeh, Jim!" protested the youth. He could not speak because of the gulpings in his throat.
 
But the tall soldier continued to beg in a lowly way. He now hung babelike to the youth's arm. His eyes rolled in the wildness of his terror. "I was allus a good friend t' yeh, wa'n't I, Henry? I 've allus been a pretty good feller, ain't I? An' it ain't much t' ask, is it? Jest t' pull me along outer th' road? I'd do it fer you, wouldn't I, Henry?"
 
He paused in piteous anxiety to await his friend's reply.
 
The youth had reached an where the him. He strove to express his , but he could only make fantastic gestures.
 
However, the tall soldier seemed suddenly to forget all those fears. He became again the grim, stalking specter of a soldier. He went forward. The youth wished his friend to lean upon him, but the other always shook his head and strangely protested. "No--no--no--leave me be--leave me be--"
 
His look was fixed again upon the unknown. He moved with mysterious purpose, and all of the youth's offers he brushed aside. "No--no--leave me be--leave me be--"
 
The youth had to follow.
 
Presently the latter heard a voice talking softly near his shoulder. Turning he saw that it belonged to the tattered soldier. "Ye'd better take 'im outa th' road, pardner. There's a batt'ry com............