The Red Badge of Courage and Selected Sh - Stephen Crane [43]
Something in the gesture of the man as he waved the bloody and pitying soldiers away made the youth start as if bitten. He yelled in horror. Tottering forward he laid a quivering hand upon the man’s arm. As the latter slowly turned his waxlike features toward him, the youth screamed:
“Gawd! Jim Conklin!”
The tall soldier made a little commonplace smile. “Hello, Henry,” he said.
The youth swayed on his legs and glared strangely. He stuttered and stammered. “Oh, Jim—oh, Jim—oh, Jim—”
The tall soldier held out his gory hand. There was a curious red and black combination of new blood and old blood upon it. “Where yeh been, Henry?” he asked. He continued in a monotonous voice, “I thought mebbe yeh got keeled over. There’s been thunder t’ pay t‘-day. I was worryin’ about it a good deal.”
The youth still lamented. “Oh, Jim—oh, Jim—oh, Jim—”
“Yeh know,” said the tall soldier, “I was out there.” He made a careful gesture. “An‘, Lord, what a circus! An’, b‘jiminey, I got shot—I got shot. Yes, b’jiminey, I got shot.” He reiterated this fact in a bewildered way, as if he did not know how it came about.
The youth put forth anxious arms to assist him, but the tall soldier went firmly on as if propelled. Since the youth’s arrival as a guardian for his friend, the other wounded men had ceased to display much interest. They occupied themselves again in dragging their own tragedies toward the rear.
Suddenly, as the two friends marched on, the tall soldier seemed to be overcome by a terror. His face turned to a semblance of gray paste. He clutched the youth’s arm and looked all about him, as if dreading to be overheard. Then he began to speak in a shaking whisper:
“I tell yeh what I’m ‘fraid of, Henry—I’ll tell yeh what I’m ’fraid of. I’m ‘fraid I’ll fall down—an’ then yeh know—them damned artillery wagons—they like as not ’ll run over me. That’s what I’m ’fraid of—”
The youth cried out to him hysterically: “I’ll take care of yeh, Jim! I’ll take care of yeh! I swear t’ Gawd I will!”
“Sure—will yeh, Henry?” the tall soldier beseeched.
“Yes—yes—I tell yeh—I’ll take care of yeh, Jim!” protested the youth. He could not speak accurately because of the gulpings in his throat.
But the tall soldier continued to beg in a lowly way. He now hung babelike to the youth’s arm. His eyes rolled in the wildness of his terror. “I was allus a good friend t’ yeh, wa‘n’t I, Henry? I’ve allus been a pretty good feller, ain’t I? An’ it ain’t much t’ ask, is it? Jest t’ pull me along outer th’ road? I’d do it fer you, wouldn’t I, Henry?”
He paused in piteous anxiety to await his friend’s reply.
The youth had reached an anguish where the sobs scorched him. He strove to express his loyalty, but he could only make fantastic gestures.
However, the tall soldier seemed suddenly to forget all those fears. He became again the grim, stalking specter of a soldier. He went stonily forward. The youth wished his friend to lean upon him, but the other always shook his head and strangely protested. “No—no—no—leave me be—leave me be—”
His look was fixed again upon the unknown. He moved with mysterious purpose, and all of the youth’s offers he brushed aside. “No—no—leave me be—leave me be—”
The youth had to follow.
Presently the latter heard a voice talking softly near his shoulders. Turning he saw that it belonged to the tattered soldier. “Ye’d better take ‘im outa th’ road, pardner.There’s a batt’ry comin’ helitywhoopo down th’ road an’ he’ll git runned over. He’s a goner anyhow in about five minutes—yeh kin see that.Ye’d better take ‘im outa th’ road. Where th’ blazes does he git his stren’th from?”
“Lord knows!” cried the youth. He was shaking his hands helplessly.
He ran forward presently and grasped the tall soldier