there were more games while the squad crossed the river to the drowned
neck, built a rough scaffold there, and notched a trail across it; to the
scaffold the baggage was ferried, and the next morning, bit by bit, the
regiment. Even now the pains shoot through my body when I think of how
man after man plunged waist-deep into the icy water toward the farther
branch. The pirogue was filled with the weak, and in the end of it I was
curled up with my drum.

Heroism is a many-sided thing. It is one matter to fight and finish,
another to endure hell's tortures hour after hour. All day they waded
with numbed feet vainly searching for a footing in the slime. Truly, the
agony of a brave man is among the greatest of the world's tragedies to
see. As they splashed onward through the tree-trunks, many a joke went
forth, though lips were drawn and teeth pounded together. I have not the
heart to recall these jokes,--it would seem a sacrilege. There were
quarrels, too, the men striving to push one another from the easier
paths; and deeds sublime when some straggler clutched at the bole of a
tree for support, and was helped onward through excruciating ways. A
dozen held tremblingly to the pirogue's gunwale, lest they fall and
drown. One walked ahead with a smile, or else fell back to lend a
helping shoulder to a fainting man.

And there was Tom McChesney. All day long I watched him, and thanked God
that Polly Ann could not see him thus. And yet, how the pride would have
leaped within her! Humor came not easily to him, but charity and courage
and unselfishness he had in abundance. What he suffered none knew; but
through those awful hours he was always among the stragglers, helping the
weak and despairing when his strength might have taken him far ahead
toward comfort and safety. "I'm all right, Davy," he would say, in
answer to my look as he passed me. But on his face was written something