Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1902-01-01
A Tragedy Of
The Trench
BY LALLY RERNARD

/ Nhi StGAtn kANNhSs a
small barrier OF upturncd sci. looking IS
IL an anchor from balloon had sccopea
! up a few yards OF soil and then soarel
upward again. Behind this little hum
mock two men are lying Cat on their
/ faces. while-a third figure Is doubled up
! and forms a support for one OF the two
I mcn-a steady support FOR the rifle. lie
! lies absolutely siill-has been dead for
hours. with bullet through his brail.
Getting crampei beyond endurance. he
had. in spite of his companions remon-
strances insisted on rising and stretching
his limbs and, as they had predicted, fell
: back dead.
! The two living men Are filthy and in
rags: their boots. half torn from their
+, feet, look like those forlorn leather mys
teries one finds in bitches and out of the
( way places always suggestive of some
tragedy or OF thieving tramps who may
have discarded them for less hopeless
pair which they have managed to collec;
on their rounds.
II is hard to tell which OF the men Is
the elder: each one Is sunburned anil
griined with dirt: two weeks growth on
cheek and chin makes their sunken faces
positively ferocions: their eyes have a
hungry CLEAN. Ii Is days since they have
had meal. subsisting on ration biscuits
more resembling dogs food than aughi
else, but they have carefully nibblcd at
these to exc out sistenance.
For eight long hours these men have
lain in this shallow trench. so shallow
that when bullets come whiSfiing over
their heads their faces are pressed In the
loose earth for protection. The aching
from cold and cramp is becoming well
nigh uncomfortable. and now and then one
or the other casts a glance toward the
crushed and twisted form beside them
with an expression OF envy. as il IL sug
gested welcome thought.
Curzon. the elder man of the two. man
ages, with great effort. to get his pipe
aight
Hold on a bit. Mortlake." he SAYS TO
his companion. "and you shall have pull
presently"
groans MOrtlake.
Pipes better. old man; rain can't put
II ont so quick"
well. while you are getting your
Whit. I'll take a pot al the beggars. then
you can take turn at this business.
raising himself gingerly and sighting his
rifle as he speaks.
In another moment he tumbles back.
knocking the pipe and its precious con.
tents out OF Curzon's mouth. Good
God. Morty, you're not done forY" gasps
Curzon. Guess so" feebly from Mort
lake. Got any stuff IN your fasl?.'
Only a drop. cursed luck as il u.s." and
without seconds hesitation he whips
cut the flask and holds 1t to the white
lips of his friend.
That's enough. that's enough: don't
pour all the precious stuff down my
throat. ] may be dead In ten minutes.
and you'll need il more than willr
mo nonsense. old man: try and wriS-
gle around so that | can see what tn.
damage is; such a tiny hole 1t must be;
wish ! could stop the biogd. In your
side? Here? Bad-ioes il hurt?"
Not much, feel sick and queer: think
I'm of. Hope not. Got lot to live
for" A pause. How does fellow feel
I when he is going? Don't know--of
course yen don't. Do look like il? Now,
Curzon. don't get up. you can't mend mat
tiers, and il you were hit and was left
alone ! should go mad. Ugh"
What is it. Morty-painf'
mo, forgot the poor devil under me.
and his face is cold and wet; his boot Is
just in the small OF my back"
Curzon moves the dead mans leg by
pushing sideways with his foot: Mort
lake grows deadly pale during the opera
ton. rs there any blood coming now.
Curzon? Feel as IL were soaked in it,"
mo. old fellow: keep up your courage
for the matters sake"
A moment OF terrible silence while Cur
zon curses himself for fool for having
mentioned the matters name. Mortlake,
with a curious note in his. voice. says.
you were always wanting me to keep
up something for her sake. weren't your
''Oh. yes. you're right there. but don't
get reminiscent and sentimental: keep up;
don't imagine it's dangerous wound"
/ We'll. it's just as well these times to
be ready to send in your checks; ! never
thought I'd get hit. fellow never does:
always looks to see the next psor chap
20 down instead. Remember the dance
at the Vernos' the night before we sailed?
Cad. how we chafed about this picnic
as we called IL. Never thought OF this
kind of thing. Call this war! Why. here
we are shooting out of the graves we
have started to dig for ourselves, and
shooting men we have never laid eyes
oE-beastly impolite. I call it-with these
+. long range rifles Wonder il hit any
one before they bagged mef'
Curzcn reaches carefully for the pipe
/ which Is almost covered with mud. and
tries TO reIight the smoldering embers.
! "Got light or bit of paper about
you. Morty? If | could get this blooming
thing to go. Whit would do you good. A
T ietter--ah. thanks! The envelope is
| damp: can use the inside sheet? Scent
1 Good Lord. how funny ii seemsr'
You can have 1t, Curzon. old fellow"
/ and Mortlake's face grows graver as he
speaks. but ! promised the little girl
/ who wrote it to keep II forever: keep a
bit. and il I'm knocked out send it to
her. Know her address. expect Think
I'm fool. perhaps. Well. the truth is
I'm not comfortable in my mind about
that little episode; awfuIly unsophisti-
Gated little girl and perhaps | did run
her a Bit hard TINY old way. you sayI:
hang 1t all. didn't mean to win her