* * * * * One of the aggrieved privates came forward with his shovel. He lifted his first shovel-load of earth, and for a moment of inexplicable hesitation it was held poised above this corpse, which from its chalk-blue face looked keenly out from the grave. Then the soldier emptied his shovel on--on the feet. Timothy Lean felt as if tons had been swiftly lifted from off his forehead. He had felt that perhaps the private might empty the shovel on--on the face. It had been emptied on the feet. There was a great point gained there--ha, ha!--the first shovelful had been emptied on the feet. How satisfactory! The adjutant began to babble. "Well, of course--a man we've messed with all these years--impossible--you can't, you know, leave your intimate friends rotting on the field. Go on, for God's sake, and shovel, you!" The man with the shovel suddenly ducked, grabbed his left arm with his right hand, and looked at his officer for orders. Lean picked the shovel from the ground. "Go to the rear," he said to the wounded man. He also addressed the other private. "You get under cover, too; I'll finish this business." The wounded man scrambled hard still for the top of the ridge without devoting any glances to the direction whence the bullets came, and the other man followed at an equal pace; but he was different, in that he looked back anxiously three times. This is merely the way--often--of the hit and unhit. Timothy Lean filled the shovel, hesitated, and then in a movement which was like a gesture of abhorrence he flung the dirt into the grave, and as it landed it made a sound--plop! Lean suddenly stopped and mopped his brow--a tired laborer. "Perhaps we have been wrong," said the adjutant. His glance wavered stupidly. "It might have been better if we hadn't buried him just at this time. Of course, if we advance to-morrow the body would have been--" "Damn you," said Lean, "shut your mouth!" He was not the senior officer. He again filled the shovel and flung the earth. Always the earth made that sound--plop! For a space Lean worked frantically, like a man digging himself out of danger. Soon there was nothing to be seen but the chalk-blue face. Lean filled the shovel. "Good God," he cried to the adjutant. "Why didn't you turn him somehow when you put him in? This--" Then Lean began to stutter. The adjutant understood. He was pale to the lips. "Go on, man," he cried, beseechingly, almost in a shout. Lean swung back the shovel. It went forward in a pendulum curve. When the earth landed it made a sound--plop! AN EPISODE OF WAR The lieutenant's rubber blanket lay on the ground, and upon it he had poured the company's supply of coffee. Corporals and other representatives of the grimy and hot-throated men who lined the breastwork had come for each squad's portion.