The return
had been leisurely despite Carmichael's impatience. In the military
field the troops were breaking camp for their departure to the various
posts throughout the duchy. Only the officers, who were to attend the
court ball that evening, and the resident troops would remain. The
maneuvers were over; the pomp of miniature war was done. Carmichael
peered through the window. What a play yonder scene was to what he had
been through! To break camp before dawn, before breakfast, rain and hail
and snow smothering one; when the frost-bound iron of the musket caught
one's fingers and tore the skin; the shriek of shot overhead, the boom
of cannon and the gulp of impact; cold, hungry, footsore, sleepy; here
and there a comrade crumpling up strangely and lying still and white;
the muddy ruts in the road; the whole world a dead gray like the face of
death! What did those yonder know of war?
The carriage stopped.
"I shall not intrude, I trust?" said the old man, opening the door and
getting in.
"Not now," replied Carmichael. "What is all this about?"
"A trifle; I might say a damn-fool trifle. But what did you mean when
you said you knew all you wanted to know?" The mountaineer showed some
anxiety.
"Exactly what I said. The only thing that confuses me is the motive.
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