Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-08-03

its source, for it is the yell of mortal
But it is thin and weak by contrast, utterly
Insignificant and mouselike, that Smith would not
tce it for the fact that it repeated again and
again, and the effect of the guns mighty voices
starts to away it begins to take its natural place
among other sounds.
the edge of the parapet, and he wonders what up
but he has time to investigate just then He is tax
ing the actual time of flight of thousandpound shell.
He started his watch when it fired and stands
waiting for it to strike his glasses at his eyes He
jet of water miles away thrown high into the air. and
knows it for the first of splashes that the shell
will make before finally settling to rest on the bottom.
Stopping his watch he pockets it and follows the others
to the edge of the parapet there to behold the living
REPUTATION of what had been accepted as fact, until
few seconds before by the science OF modern gnnery
The refutation is man, little Irishman, grizzled,
and for the moment pale, except for the blood that
his face This blood has left trail down
the steep outer slope of the parapet-the blast SLOPE
it is that he has rolled been rolled
from the top to the bottom, where he lies Save
for few negligible tatters that still cling to it. his wiz
ened, bow-legged body is innocent OF clothing as
when it into the world. His eyes protrude and
his face twching; his chest heaves nightly but ap
parenty its sole for doin: is to gain breath
that be violently exhaled another howl
Young Smith, however knows that only a dozen
seconds ago the few tatters the immaculate uni
form of Corporal and he has no difficulty in guessing
what has happened. OF long service, good soldier,
and matches gun pointer, the little Corporal has
besetting weakness which sometimes though rarely,
overcomes him. Having accumulated much of this
confines of military post he chose the blast slope, of
all places in the world, refuge where he might
sleep off the effects, and, worse STILL selected for his
couch that part of it that lies directly under the
zle of gun.
Now this particular part of the slope has been tued
like the rest of it. Unlike the rest however it is bare
and brown Every dead, cose-cropped blade of grass
lies fiat does the nap of well brushed silk hat.
Ants may build their tiny hills all about; but not
this space 1t supposed that nothing could live
there that the fghtul blast and the heat would snuff
all animal life instantly. Yet that of the Corporal
has not been snufed out. Save for his uniform. his
fright, and bloody nose, he not even hurt. More,
he not sobered for little later young Smith
him rolling away toward his quarters, quite
cred from his fright and clad in borrowed overcoat,
whistlng "Father O'Flynn" between his teeth.
THESE great guns have finished their work by this
time, and Second Lieutenant Smith strolls back
toward his battery; but stops by the way at the
edge of mortar pit. Young Jones, his churn, is at
tached to this mortar battery, and being like Smith,
Second Lieutenant is naturally detailed pit officer
1t always pleasant to friends work. Smith
watches the scene below him. where the sum-