The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1915-05-13

breaking the bonds of discipline was
in the ascendant, and it sought the
highway, even as water keeps to the
river bed. Like specks on the labor
ing tide was the white of bandages. An
ambulance trying to cut out to one
side was overturned. The frantic
chauffeur and hospital-corps orderly
were working to extricate the wound
ed from their painful position. A gun
was overturned against the ambulance.
A melee of horses and men was form
ing at the foot of the garden gate in
front of the narrowing bounds of the
road into the town, as stream banks
up before a jam of driftwood. The
struggle for right of way became in
creasingly Wild the dam of men,
horses, and wagons grew. A Brown
dirigible was descending toward the
great target; but on closer view it's
commander forbore, the humane i'm
pulse outweighing the desire for retri-
button for colleagues in camp and
mess who had gone down in holo-
caust in the aerial battles of the night.
Under the awful spell of the piano.
rama, she did not see Westerling, who
had stopped only a few feet distant
with his aide and his valet, nor did he
notice her as the tumult glazed his
eyes. He was as an artist who looks
on the ribbons of the canvas of his
painting, or the sculptor on the frag-
ments Of his statue. Worse still, with
no faith to give him fortitude except
the materialistic, he saw the altar of
his god of military efficiency in ruins
He who had not allowed the word re-
treat to enter his lexicon now saw a
rout. He had laughed at reserve
armies in last nights feverish defiance,
at Turcas's advocacy of a slower and
surer method Of attack In those hours
OF shifting at a wall with his fists and
forehead, in denial OF all the truth so
clear to average military logic, if he
had only even a few conventional d.
rections all this disorder would have
been avoided. His army could have
fallen back in orderly fashion to their
own range. The machine out of order,
he had attempted no repair; he had al
lowed it to thrash itself to pieces.
The artillery's maceration of the
human jam suddenly ceased; perhaps
because the gunners had seen the Red
Cross flag which a doctor had the
presence of mind to wave. Westerling
turned from sight worse to him than
the killing-that Of the flowing retreat
along the road pressing frantically
over the dead and wounded in growing
disorder for the cover of the town.
Near by were Bellini, the chief of in
telligence, and subaltern who had
arrived only minute before. The sub
altern was dust-covered. He seemed
to have come in from a hard ride Both
were watching Marta, as if waiting for
her to speak. She met Westerling's
look steadily, her eyes dark and still
and In his the reflection of the vague
realization of more than he had
guessed In her relations with him.
WELL" she breathed to Westerling.
"the war goes on!"
That's it! That's the voice!" ex-
claimed the subaltern in an explosion
of recognition.
A short, sharp laugh of irony broke
from Bellini; the laugh of one whose
suspicious are confirmed in the mix.
ture of the sublime and the ridiculous.
Marta looked around at the Interrupt
ton, alert, on guard.
"You seem amused" she remarked
curiously.
"No, but you must have been," re-
piled Bellini hoarsely. early this
morning. not far from the castle, this
young officer found in the crater made
by ten-inch sh II wire that ran in