<SPAN name="XXIII"></SPAN>
<h1 align="center" style="margin-top: 2em;font-variant: small-caps">Chapter XXIII</h1>
<h2 align="center" style="margin-top: 2em;font-variant: small-caps">Elma’s Aftermath</h2>
<p>After General Dru had given orders for the care of
the wounded and the disposition of the prisoners,
he dismissed his staff and went quietly out into the
starlight. He walked among the dead and wounded and
saw that everything possible was being done to alleviate
suffering. Feeling weary he sat for a moment upon
a dismembered gun.</p>
<p>As he looked over the field of carnage and saw what
havoc the day had made, he thought of the Selwyns
and the Thors, whose selfishness and greed were responsible
for it all, and he knew that they and their kind would
have to meet an awful charge before the judgment seat
of God. Within touch of him lay a boy of not more
than seventeen, with his white face turned towards
the stars. One arm was shattered and a piece of shell
had torn a great red wound in the side of his chest.
Dru thought him dead, but he saw him move and open
his eyes. He removed a coat from a soldier that lay
dead beside him and pillowed the boy’s head upon
it, and gave him some water and a little brandy.</p>
<p>“I am all in, Captain,” said he, “but
I would like a message sent home.” He saw that
Dru was an officer but he had no idea who he was. “I
only enlisted last week. I live in Pennsylvania--not
far from here.” Then more faintly--“My
mother tried to persuade me to remain at home, but
I wanted to do my share, so here I am--as you find
me. Tell her--tell her,” but the message never
came--for he was dead.</p>
<p>After he had covered the pain-racked, ghastly face,
Dru sat in silent meditation, and thought of the shame
of it, the pity of it all. Somewhere amongst that
human wreckage he knew Gloria was doing what she could
to comfort the wounded and those that were in the agony
of death.</p>
<p>She had joined the Red Cross Corps of the insurgent
army at the beginning of hostilities, but Dru had
had only occasional glimpses of her. He was wondering
now, in what part of that black and bloody field she
was. His was the strong hand that had torn into fragments
these helpless creatures; hers was the gentle hand
that was softening the horror, the misery of it all.
Dru knew there were those who felt that the result
would never be worth the cost and that he, too, would
come in for a measurable share of their censure. But
deep and lasting as his sympathy was for those who
had been brought into this maelstrom of war, yet,
pessimism found no lodgment within him, rather was
his great soul illuminated with the thought that with
splendid heroism they had died in order that others
might live the better. Twice before had the great
republic been baptized in blood and each time the result
had changed the thought and destiny of man. And so
would it be now, only to greater purpose. Never again
would the Selwyns and the Thors be able to fetter
the people.</p>
<p>Free and unrestrained by barriers erected by the powerful,
for selfish purposes, there would now lie open to
them a glorious and contented future. He had it in
his thoughts to do the work well now that it had been
begun, and to permit no misplaced sentiment to deter
him. He knew that in order to do what he had in mind,
he would have to reckon with the habits and traditions
of centuries, but, seeing clearly the task before
him he must needs become an iconoclast and accept the
consequences. For two days and nights he had been without
sleep and under a physical and mental strain that
would have meant disaster to any, save Philip Dru.
But now he began to feel the need of rest and sleep,
so he walked slowly back to his tent.</p>
<p>After giving orders that he was not to be disturbed,
he threw himself as he was upon his camp bed, and,
oblivious of the fact that the news of his momentous
victory had circled the globe and that his name was
upon the lips of half the world, he fell into a dreamless,
restful sleep.</p>
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