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Chapter 5

           ButnotfarfromBaldHillsheagaincameoutontheroadandovertookhisregimentatitshaltingplacebythedamofasmallpond.Itwaspastoneo’clock.Thesun,aredballthroughthedust,burnedandscorchedhisbackintolerablythroughhisblackcoat.Thedustalwayshungmotionlessabovethebuzzoftalkthatcamefromtherestingtroops.Therewasnowind.AshecrossedthedamPrinceAndrewsmelledtheoozeandfreshnessofthepond.Helongedtogetintothatwater,howeverdirtyitmightbe,andheglancedroundatthepoolfromwhencecamesoundsofshrieksandlaughter.Thesmall,muddy,greenpondhadrisenvisiblymorethanafoot,floodingthedam,becauseitwasfullofthenakedwhitebodiesofsoldierswithbrick-redhands,necks,andfaces,whoweresplashingaboutinit.Allthisnakedwhitehumanflesh,laughingandshrieking,flounderedaboutinthatdirtypoollikecarpstuffedintoawateringcan,andthesuggestionofmerrimentinthatflounderingmassrendereditspeciallypathetic.

           Onefair-hairedyoungsoldierofthethirdcompany,whomPrinceAndrewknewandwhohadastraproundthecalfofoneleg,crossedhimself,steppedbacktogetagoodrun,andplungedintothewater;another,adarknoncommissionedofficerwhowasalwaysshaggy,stooduptohiswaistinthewaterjoyfullywrigglinghismuscularfigureandsnortedwithsatisfactionashepouredthewateroverhisheadwithhandsblackenedtothewrists.Thereweresoundsofmenslappingoneanother,yelling,andpuffing.

           Everywhereonthebank,onthedam,andinthepond,therewashealthy,white,muscularflesh.

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