A Son of the Gods, and A Horseman in the Sky — John Shaqi
A Son of the Gods, and A Horseman in the SkyBierce, Ambrose
History
A Son of the Gods, and A Horseman in the Sky
Bierce, Ambrose
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction; War stories, American
It was not for long; in another moment his face was raised from earth,
his hands resumed their places on the rifle, his forefinger sought the
trigger; mind, heart and eyes were clear, conscience and reason sound.
He could not hope to capture that enemy; to alarm him would but send
him dashing to his camp with his fatal news. The duty of the soldier was
plain: the man must be shot dead from ambush--without warning, without
a moment's spiritual preparation, with never so much as an unspoken
prayer, he must be sent to his account. But no--there is a hope; he may
have discovered nothing; perhaps he is but admiring the sublimity of
the landscape. If permitted, he may turn and ride carelessly away in
the direction whence he came. Surely it will be possible to judge at
the instant of his withdrawing whether he knows. It may well be that his
fixity of attention---Druse turned his head and looked through the deeps
of air downward as from the surface of the bottom of a translucent sea.
He saw creeping across the green meadow a sinuous line of figures of men
and horses--some foolish commander was permitting the soldiers of his
escort to water their beasts in the open, in plain view from a hundred
summits!
Druse withdrew his eyes from the valley and fixed them again upon the
group of man and horse in the sky, and again it was through the sights
of his rifle. But this time his aim was at the horse. In his memory,
as if they were a divine mandate, rang the words of his father at their
parting: "Whatever may occur, do what you conceive to be your duty." He
was calm now. His teeth were firmly but not rigidly closed; his nerves
were as tranquil as a sleeping babe's--not a tremor affected any muscle
of his body; his breathing, until suspended in the act of taking aim,
was regular and slow. Duty had conquered; the spirit had said to the
body: "Peace, be still." He fired.
An officer of the Federal force, who, in a spirit of adventure or in
quest of knowledge, had left the hidden bivouac in the valley, and, with
aimless feet, had made his way to the lower edge of a small open space
near the foot of the cliff, was considering what he had to gain by
pushing his exploration further. At a distance of a quarter-mile before
him, but apparently at a stone's throw, rose from its fringe of pines
the gigantic face of rock, towering to so great a height above him that
it made him giddy to look up to where its edge cut a sharp, rugged
line against the sky. At some distance away to his right it presented a
clean, vertical profile against a background of blue sky to a point half
the way down, and of distant hills hardly less blue, thence to the tops
of the trees at its base. Lifting his eyes to the dizzy altitude of its
summit, the officer saw an astonishing sight--a man on horseback riding
down into the valley through the air!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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