[Illustration: THEN ZEBEDEE DASHED OUT ACROSS THE PLAIN] He knew that fire would flash along the hostile works; that lead again would rain; but he did not waver. He saw the dark line of his comrades, he knew their misery, he could at least give one life for his country--and the men watched him with awe as, with a curious gravity, he, about to die, saluted them in farewell and ran unhesitatingly out. A sort of glory was upon his countenance. There was a hush. Friend and enemy alike were awed and still. No sound was heard but the rapid patter of his feet. There came no flash and smoke, no splintering sound of musketry. But there arose a mighty shout--friends and enemies alike were cheering him!--and he sank, hysterically sobbing, among his comrades. This, of course, brought about important recognition. The General heard of it; heard, too, that the Captain of Company Q did not, from some crotchet, some whimsy, wish to be a regular soldier. “Zebedee,” he said, “you are a brave man.” Zebedee’s heart beat high with hope, and the look of exaltation shone in his eyes. Not knowing whether or not to use words, or what words to use, he could only stand stiffly at salute--he knew how to salute, although no drill-master had ever paid attention to him; he had eagerly watched and practised, and was perfect at this as at many other things. He stood rigidly at salute--but his eyes were like the eyes of a faithful dog that hungrily watches his master for a bone. “I am sorry you are not an enlisted man, Zebedee.” Ah! how high his heart beat now! To be a corporal--perhaps even a sergeant-- The General went on, speaking slowly so that the full sense of his condescension should sink in: “And so, you shall be my own personal servant.” Zebedee stood rigid as if he were a piece of mechanism, and all expression was swept from his face as marks are swept from a slate. And having thus conferred honor, the General went out; he, the great warrior so able to discern the hidden movements of an opposing army, to read the secret plans of an enemy, but quite unable to discern the poignant suffering of a brave man. Zebedee was a sturdy man, not given to running away or to changeableness. In his heart--the heart of which the surgeon had spoken so contemptuously--he had enlisted for the war; he would not be permitted, so it seemed, to fight the good fight, but he must patiently finish the course and keep the faith.