You can still do it." We saw them come out, one by one, these creatures of deformed body and dwindling movement, leaning on each other, as though attached, and mumbling, "Nothing can be done, nothing." Little Melusson, reserved and wretched, with his long red nose between his burning cheekbones, was standing among us in the idle file with which the morning seemed vaguely in fellowship.

He had not been to the inspection, but he said, "I can carry on to-day still; but to-morrow I shall knock under.

To-morrow----" We paid no attention to Melusson's words.

Some one near us said, "Those instructions the major spoke of, they're a sign." * * * * * * On parade that same morning the chief, with his nose on a paper, read out: "By order of the Officer Commanding," and then he stammered out some names, names of some soldiers in the regiment brigaded with ours, who had been shot for disobedience.

There was a long list of them.