“What are you doing here?” said a deep snarling voice. Chrisfield's eyes blinked. Automatically he got to his feet; it might be an officer. His eyes focussed suddenly. It was Anderson's face that was between him and the light. In the greenish obscurity the skin looked chalk-white in contrast to the heavy eyebrows that met over the nose and the dark stubble on the chin. “How is it you ain't out with the company?” “Ah'm barracks guard,” muttered Chrisfield. He could feel the blood beating in his wrists and temples, stinging his eyes like fire. He was staring at the floor in front of Anderson's feet. “Orders was all the companies was to go out an' not leave any guard.” “Ah!' “We'll see about that when Sergeant Higgins comes in. Is this place tidy?” “You say Ah'm a goddamed liar, do ye?” Chrisfield felt suddenly cool and joyous. He felt anger taking possession of him. He seemed to be standing somewhere away from himself watching himself get angry. “This place has got to be cleaned up.... That damn General may come back to look over quarters,” went on Anderson coolly. “You call me a goddam liar,” said Chrisfield again, putting as much insolence as he could summon into his voice. “Ah guess you doan' remember me.” “Yes, I know, you're the guy tried to run a knife into me once,” said Anderson coolly, squaring his shoulders. “I guess you've learned a little discipline by this time. Anyhow you've got to clean this place up. God, they haven't even brushed the birds' nests down! Must be some company!” said Anderson with a half laugh. “Ah ain't agoin' to neither, fur you.” “Look here, you do it or it'll be the worse for you,” shouted the sergeant in his deep rasping voice. “If ever Ah gits out o' the army Ah'm goin' to shoot you. You've picked on me enough.” Chrisfield spoke slowly, as coolly as Anderson. “Well, we'll see what a court-martial has to say to that.” “Ah doan give a hoot in hell what ye do.” Sergeant Anderson turned on his heel and went out, twisting the corner button of his tunic in his big fingers. Already the sound of tramping feet was heard and the shouted order, “Dis-missed.” Then men crowded into the shack, laughing and talking. Chrisfield sat still on the end of the bunk, looking at the bright oblong of the door. Outside he saw Anderson talking to Sergeant Higgins. They shook hands, and Anderson disappeared. Chrisfield heard Sergeant Higgins call after him. “I guess the next time I see you I'll have to put my heels together an' salute.” Andersen's booming laugh faded as he walked away. Sergeant Higgins came into the shack and walked straight up to Chrisfield, saying in a hard official voice: “You're under arrest.... Small, guard this man; get your gun and cartridge belt. I'll relieve you so you can get mess.”