The Starkville news. (Starkville, Miss.) 1902-1960, 1905-05-05
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The NumberOf
His Regiment
BY FRANCOIS coPPEE
BY FRANCOIS c0PPEE


swarms ct the harvest times, but so
ugly and suspicious in appearance that
he was driven away from all the farms
where he asked for work.
The stick of oak upon which he
leaned looked less like an innocent
walking stick than murderer's blud-
geon and, stamped on the under side
of his coarse blouse, there was doubt
less the black, ignoble number of the
galley or prison.
His age? Misfortune knows none.
Tall and thin. he walked with the agil-
ity Of a young man, but his yellow
mustach was griZZled and years OF nil
itary discipline showed in his straight
shoulders and erect carriage. The man
was following a narrow path between
two cornfields, whole high stalks
reached nearly to his head
He had nc idea where the road
would lead him. Before him and be-
side him the golden fields shone in
the June sun. Scattered gayly among
the waving corn stalks. were brilliant
poppies and blue cornf1Owers where,
his note betraying him. the cicada
shrilled monotonously. Overhead, the
pure blue of the noon sky was unbro-
ken by single fieecq cloud.
The tramp rubbed his arm across
his wet brow.
The day before. in answer to his
hoarse, pleading question: "Have you
a days worn for me. -" the farmers,
after quick glance at the rough face,
had. one and ALL replied defantly:
mo. We need no one.
There were just three sous left in
the tramp's pocket. With these he
had bought bit of bread and eaten
it as he went along, drinking from the
brook beside him.
When night came, June night.
glowing with radiant stars. the out
cast jumped hedge and, his stick for
a pillow, slept soundly until daybreak.
To-day ne had had nothing to eat,
but his keenest distress was his lack
of tobacco. 1t was long since he had
been able to get any. and the pipe in
his blouse pocket was constant ag-
gravation.
AS he plodded through the warm.
sweet-smelling fields the tramp
thought vaguely of his dark. horrible
life.
A founding brought up by char
fty nurse in the country, he could re-
call nothing of his eaely childhood
save his terror of tn, old woman
whose hand was always lifted to
strike. He had worked with her in
the forests, gathering dry wood and
roofing in t. soft earth like pig
for the acorns that eked out his scanty
fare of black bread and thin soup and
somehow. in some way, he had scram-
bled up to boyhood.
When he was eight the old crone re-
1uctantly sent him to school. where hc
learned to read and write and count.
But his comrades, little peasant boys
with red cheeks full of nourishing
soup and cruelty, called him the
witch's son and would have nothing to
do with him. He returned their hatred
warmly and his school life was the
scene of constant fighting, battles in
which, happily for him. he was almost
always the victor.
His wicked old nurse died when he
was IA and the boy would then have
starved had he not obtained work IS
stable lad at three francs a month and
the privilege of sleeping in the straw.
Hated by his companions, Knocked by
all the girls about him, passing for
an idiot because he was sullenly un-
sociable, he had yet grown to be a
strong, vigorous young man. Then he
was seized by the conscript officer and
sent to the Scventy.ffth regiment of
infantry.
Those first years in the regiment
were his only happy memories. There,
for the first time, this pariah, this So
cial outcast, learned the meaning of
the words equality and justice.
His uniform might be too thick in
summer and too thin in winter, but it
was what every other soldier wore; his
rations were often impossible to eat,
but his were no different from anyone
else's. In his barracks, in the bunk
next his, slept viscount who had en-
listed after several escapaGes. Here
--what surprise! one man was the
equal of another; and to rise in rank,
one virtue only was necessary
.ence.