The youth pitied them as he ran.

Methodical idiots! Machine-like fools! The refined joy of planting shells in the midst of the other battery's formation would appear a little thing when the infantry came swooping out of the woods.
The face of a youthful rider, who was jerking his frantic horse with an abandon of temper he might display in a placid barnyard, was impressed deeply upon his mind.

He knew that he looked upon a man who would presently be dead.
Too, he felt a pity for the guns, standing, six good comrades, in a bold row.
He saw a brigade going to the relief of its pestered fellows.

He scrambled upon a wee hill and watched it sweeping finely, keeping formation in difficult places.

The blue of the line was crusted with steel color, and the brilliant flags projected.