"It looks as if it might rain this afternoon," remarked the lieutenant
of artillery.
"So it does," the infantry captain assented. He glanced casually at the
sky. When his eyes had lowered to the green-shadowed landscape before
him, he said fretfully: "I wish those fellows out yonder would quit
pelting at us. They've been at it since noon."
At the edge of a grove of maples, across wide fields, there occasionally
appeared little puffs of smoke of a dull hue in this gloom of sky which
expressed an impending rain. The long wave of blue and steel in the
field moved uneasily at the eternal barking of the far-away
sharpshooters, and the men, leaning upon their rifles, stared at the
grove of maples. Once a private turned to borrow some tobacco from a
comrade in the rear rank, but, with his hand still stretched out, he
continued to twist his head and glance at the distant trees. He was
afraid the enemy would shoot him at a time when he was not looking.