“I don’t figger there’d be room left in the hospital er I’d go. Serg’nt, you better look at Will Cordes; he ain’t answerin’ no questions lately.” Jukes stepped around a body and knelt in a corner. “Will, me lad, ’tis a poor time to be sleepin’.” There was no answer and Jukes’ hand, crossing the man’s face, found it stone cold. “Will,” said he, sharply, “you’ll be freezin’ unless you move about. Come now.” He spoke to unheeding ears. His fingers, resting over the flat chest, found no reassuring movement. He rested on his knees for a long period, while a dismal silence pervaded the hut. “I reckon,” said a husky voice, “he’s done passed out, eh, Serg’nt?” Jukes rose. “I’ll be gettin’ a buryin’ detail. ’Tis the third from this hut in a month. Well, he was a strong lad or he’d gone earlier.” Another voice broke in: “Jukes, you heard anything ’bout them clothes supposed to be comin’? Fella told me a ship was in from France with enough to supply the hull army.” “Huh,” said Jukes, retreating to the doorway. “All I heard was the Congress had sent a committee down here to see why we ain’t satisfied.” “---- the Congress! What’ve they ever done fer us? Yah, sendin’ a committee! All they do is send committees! Washington could’ve won this war by now if Congress was anything but a pack o’ shilly-shally lawyers! Look at poor Will--the boy’d never died if the cursed Congress had only kep’ us in clo’s an’ vittals. ---- the Congress fer a pack o’ spineless, jealous rats! They talk fine but they ain’t got spunk enough to take keer of the army. Better keep their noses outen this camp or they’ll have no army.” It was a white-hot indictment, spoken in half hysterical tones. All the man’s fears, all his outraged emotions, unleashed by the death of a comrade, went into the diatribe. At the end he was left with his breath coming in gasps while the others of the hut muttered their approval. He had spoken the almost unanimous opinion of the army, an army who daily saw the carts wheeling a dozen bodies like that of the unfortunate Will Cordes through the streets. Jukes, though possessed of tempestuous emotions and a stern sense of justice, bridled his feelings with a sardonic pressure of lips and retreated from the hut. Turning up the street, he trudged toward the hospital tent, a long, thin figure with the face and eyes of a malcontent. Nature in forming him had done him injustice; for he was not as bad nor as ill-disciplined as the sullenness of mouth and cheek would indicate. The expression was an inheritance from Covenanting ancestors, people who had never found life an easy affair. Nevertheless, men gave him the compliment of legends. His taciturnity in camp and his profane frenzy in battle made him a known figure throughout the brigade.