Throughout the talk Greene said nothing, sitting there upon the log, looking calm and decided. I like this quality of stanchness in the New Englanders. They stick fast, whatever else you may say about them, and that I think wins more than anything else.
I received my instructions a moment later and retired. As I walked away, I met Marcel.
"I hope that you gave them the proper instructions."
"I did my best," I replied in the same spirit.
"They had no right to expect more," rejoined Marcel; "but it's a great pity I was not in your place."
Perhaps he would have given them advice. Marcel had great confidence in his judgment.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE--_Under the Apple-Trees_
We lay gasping under the apple-trees. The hottest sun that ever I felt or saw, was dissolving our muscles and pinning us to the earth, mere flaccid lumps. The heat quivered in the air, and the grass turned dry blades to the brown soil. I ran my finger along the bare edge of my sword, and the skin was scorched. My throat burned.
"What a day to fight!" said Marcel. "The red coats that the British over yonder wear blaze like fire, and I dare say are as hot. I wish I were a private and not an officer. Then I could strip myself."
He looked longingly at a huge soldier who had taken off coat and shirt, and was lying on the grass, naked to the waist, his rifle ready in his hands.
"Leave old Father Sun alone," I said: "I believe he will settle the business for both armies. At least he seems to be bent upon doing it."
I tried to look up at the sun, but His Majesty met me with so fierce a stare that I was glad to turn my eyes again, blinking, to the earth. When they recovered from the dimness, I looked along the line of panting soldiers, and saw one who had dropped his rifle on the grass and flung his arms out at ease.
"Stir up that man, there," I said; "he must keep his rifle in hand and ready."
"If you please, sir," said the bare-waisted soldier, "he won't be stirred up."
"Won't be stirred up?" I said, with natural impatience; "why won't he?"
"Can't be?" I said, not understanding such obstinacy. "What do you mean?"
"He can't be stirred up," replied the soldier; "because he's dead, sir."
I examined the man, and found that it was true. We had marched long and hard in the stifling heat before we lay down in the orchard, and the man, overpowered by it, had died so gently that his death was not known to us. We let him lie there, the dead man in the ranks with the quick.