And he hated the lieutenant, who had no appreciation of fine minds.

He was a mere brute.
After a time the brigade was halted in the cathedral light of a forest.
The busy skirmishers were still popping.

Through the aisles of the wood could be seen the floating smoke from their rifles.

Sometimes it went up in little balls, white and compact.
During this halt many men in the regiment began erecting tiny hills in front of them.

They used stones sticks, earth, and anything they thought might turn a bullet.