Depressed as Noel was by his recent interview with the colonel, he nevertheless was surprised when he approached the tent to find that the guards had been changed. The young soldier was not yet aware that when deserters were put under guard certain selected men were stationed with loaded muskets about the tent of those who had been condemned. Every two hours the guard was relieved.

Nor was any soldier ever compelled to stand guard over a deserter from his own company or regiment. Naturally it was very difficult for one comrade to be compelled to enforce so severe a rule as that which was applied to men who deserted, when the guilty comrade, perhaps, was a schoolmate, a relative, or even a brother. Besides, there was the continual fear of the officers that if such men were placed in charge there would naturally be the danger of a plot or a plan for the escape of those who were condemned. It was for this reason that Noel and Dennis, in any event, would have been assigned to a guard-tent in some company in which they were not likely to have any acquaintances, or even any friends among its members.

As soon as Noel entered the tent, Dennis was aware from the expression of his face that his mission had not been successful.

"What is it, lad?" he whispered as he drew the young soldier to one side.

Noel shook his head as he replied, "The colonel wouldn't believe a word."

"The colonel is as bad as that little spalpeen, the sutler!"

"I wouldn't mind it so much," said Noel, "if they would first really find out what the truth of the charge is, but it seems that they have taken the word of Levi, and now anything we can say doesn't seem to count for much against it."

"But they'll give us a trial. They'll hold a court-martial before anything is done," protested Dennis.

"I hope so," said Noel. "I don't know how it will be held, or how fair a show we'll have. It's the only square way, though, and if it's possible I am going to try to make an appeal. I have thought of sending for the chaplain. I think he might be able to do something for us if any man in the regiment can."

"Who is the chaplain?"

"I don't know who he is, but we'll be able to find that out later."

A low conversation which followed between the inmates of the tent revealed the fact that several of the men already had been tried and condemned by court-martial for desertion. Every one was bitter against those who had passed sentence upon him. Noel was surprised to find that the men were all claiming, what he himself had asserted as the cause for the mistake in his arrest, that some one had brought a false charge against them.

Not unnaturally both the young soldiers were depressed when darkness came on, and Noel was unable to sleep. Mortified by the charge as well as anxious, he lay with wide-open eyes staring in the dim light at the top of his tent and wondering what the following day would bring forth. The sound of guns in the distance, the restlessness that was manifested among the soldiers, the evident interest with which the colonel was reading some dispatches that he had received, as well as the severity with which the so-called deserters were being treated, all combined to make the young soldier confident that stirring action was speedily expected.

The following morning dawned wonderfully clear. When Dennis awoke the sun was shining brightly and the morning air was soft and still.

When the boys first arose they were startled at the presence of two ambulances in front of their tent. In each of these ambulances there was a rough coffin of wood. That these gruesome objects should have been brought to the place where the prisoners under the charge of desertion were confined at first had not been suggestive to Noel. He was soon aware, however, what the explanation was, and his face became pallid when he heard two of his companions ordered to advance and each man to take his seat on a coffin. A detail of soldiers had been assigned to draw these two ambulances and in solemn silence were awaiting the coming of the condemned men.

Noel Curtis shuddered when one of the prisoners, stepping lightly into the ambulance, seated himself upon the long box, and, rapping upon the wood, turned to some of the watching soldiers and flippantly said, "Boys, can't you put some shavings or something a little softer in my box? It looks as if it might be a pretty hard nest to rest in."

Instead of laughter or applause greeting his coarse remarks, the silence and disgust of the assembled soldiers seemed to react with solemn force upon the condemned man. At last the word was given and the cavalcade departed, leaving the remaining prisoners in the guard-tent dumb with the horror of the event.

Difficult as Noel Curtis had found it, in his previous experiences in the campaign on the Peninsula, to control his feelings when he found that he was actually shooting at a human being, that experience was by no means equal to the suffering which he now was undergoing.

There might be some justification for men making targets of one another when some great issue had been raised, but the young sharpshooter was now fully aware that war was no holiday game. His heart rebelled against many of the things which he saw, and yet the supreme issue of it all and the fact that war had been declared and accepted, and that there was no relief or release until one side or the other in the great conflict had won its victory, could not be ignored.

His thoughts now were centered upon the men who had been taken away from the tent for their execution. The presence of the detail implied that both men were to be shot, a method of execution not quite so revolting as that by hanging.

Some of the men under sentence in the guard-tent seemed to be dumb with fear, while others more stolidly expressed their complaints over the outcome of the court-martial which had been held for the two condemned men the preceding day.

Several times when shots were heard near the place where the division was in camp, Noel fancied that the report was that of the guns of the men who had been detailed to shoot the two deserters.

In his interview with the colonel the young soldier had been informed that desertion was becoming so frequent in the army at this time that orders for the sternest measures to break it up had been issued. No man now might expect any mercy who should flee from his post of duty.

Sometimes homesickness had been the cause of the men leaving their comrades. The thoughts or recollections of family and friends in the far-away North had produced a longing in the midst of the monotony of the camp work and of the army life that had been too strong for some to resist. Others, however, had become tired of the service when the novelty of the first days was gone and had fled simply to evade the difficulties and drudgery which are a part of the campaign of any army. Whatever the cause may have been, the fact could not be denied, and Noel Curtis understood fully the reasons for the sterner measures which now were being used. Perhaps they might be justified, he thought, although the unspeakable horror which had appeared in the expression on the faces of the two condemned men, when at last they were taken from the tent, was something which he was positive he never would be able to forget.

Somehow the morning passed. The guards were changed more frequently, and it was evident to the waiting men that they had not been forgotten in the midst of the excitement of the army in the knowledge that the enemy was not far distant.

"I thought you were going to send for the chaplain?" suggested Dennis to Noel when an hour or more had elapsed.

"So I am," said Noel promptly. "I had not forgotten it. It doesn't seem to me, though, that any man will be able to help us much, when the colonel is not willing even to hear what we have to say for ourselves. It seems to me that they ought to give us credit first of all for being honest. But his plan apparently is to believe a man guilty and then let him prove his innocence, if he is able."

"Niver you fear, lad. The chaplain will be able to help us out."

"We'll ask to see him, anyway," said Noel.

Accordingly, when the guard next was called, Noel succeeded in attracting the attention of the sergeant and made known his desire to receive a visit from the chaplain. Such a visit, he was aware, was permitted, and he was not without hope that the coming of this man might be of assistance to him and his hardly beset comrade.

Nearly an hour elapsed before the chaplain appeared. He was a young man, and in his face there appeared an expression of friendliness. Noel was drawn to him at once, even before he heard the somewhat abrupt and loud tones of his voice.

"What can I do for you?" asked the chaplain, not unkindly, as he entered the tent and was informed that Noel was the inmate who had requested the visit.

"I wanted to see you and tell you my story," said Noel quietly. "I am here under a false charge."

The interest of the chaplain instantly became less keen, as Noel discovered to his dismay.

"That's what every man says," responded the chaplain quietly.

"Well, it's true in my case. Did those poor fellows who were taken out this morning say they were not to blame?"

"They surely did," said the chaplain. "I wish I was able now to forget the horror of that scene. A hollow square was formed and the two coffins were placed in the open part. I shall never forget the moment when the adjutant-general stepped out into a position a little in front of the center of the square. He's a strong man and not much given to sentiment, but his voice trembled, although it was clear and strong, when in the presence of all the soldiers he read the finding of the court-martial."

"It must have been hard for the men who had been detailed," suggested Noel in a low voice.

"It was. You understand, however, that the guns used by the provost guard on occasions like that are always loaded by men who have been appointed for that special purpose. It never would do in the world to let the soldiers load their own guns."

"Why not?"

"Why, it's more than likely that they would use blank cartridges. No one wants to be responsible for the death of a man even if he is under sentence. That's the reason why the guns never are loaded by those who are to do the shooting. However, they all know that a blank cartridge has been placed in one of the guns, but they are never told which one it is. This plan makes every man believe that his gun contained the blank cartridge and that it was not his shot which killed the prisoner. While the adjutant-general was reading the finding of the court-martial the two men had to stand up. As soon as the officer had finished reading, both men were ordered to kneel on their coffins and a paper heart was pinned on the coat of each."

"What is a 'paper heart?'" asked Noel.

"Why, it's just a quarter of a sheet of ordinary notepaper. It's white, you know, and provides a mark for the men who are usually selected because they are good shots. One of these poor fellows, after he had been blind-folded, shouted, 'Boys, shoot me here,' as he put his hand upon his heart. 'Don't make any mistake, either!' I don't know whether the rest of the men heard the final order of the provost guard or not. His voice sounded to me as if it might have been a quarter of a mile away, it was so indistinct, but somehow he managed to call out—'Ready!' 'Aim!' 'Fire!'"

"Did they find the paper hearts?" inquired Noel, almost in a whisper.

"Yes, both the poor fellows fell forward on their faces and never breathed again."

Dennis O'Hara, who had been listening to the words of the chaplain, although he had not taken part in any of the conversation, could restrain his fears no longer.

"But, yer Riverence," he said, "why should they treat an innocent man like that? I'm tellin' ye that we're the most loyal boys in Little Mac's army. We're both sharpshooters and we both did our part down on the Peninsula. Now to be set up here and shot down like a couple of dogs! Why, instead of desartin', we just were doin' our best to escape from the Johnnies. 'Tis pretty hard! The colonel won't listen to a word! We can prove it to him, everything we say."

"Is that so?" inquired the chaplain, turning to Noel for confirmation.

"It is, sir," replied Noel.

"I don't know that anything can be done," said the chaplain. "It would be horrible to make such a mistake as that. You are entitled to a trial, anyway. Where is the man who made the charges against you?"

"I don't know," said Noel, "but I don't think he's here. My belief is that he is a spy, anyway, and part of the time is in the other army."

"Let me take the number of your company and regiment and I shall very gladly see what can be done. I don't want you to build your hopes too high, but you may rest assured that I shall do for you all that is in my power."

As soon as their visitor had jotted down in his notebook the few facts and figures which he asked for, he at once left the tent.