Then I watch Willis, but only for an instant; I feel entrained by Jones, and I go with Jones even though I want to see what becomes of Willis.

It gets dark, yet I can see Jones.  He goes rapidly, though I feel that he is weary.  He stands on a narrow road, and I hear sounds of rattling harness, and he sees a wagon moving.  He stops and looks at the wagon; I see a man get out of the wagon—­a very small man; the man says, “Is that you, Jones?” Then I wonder who this man is, and though I wonder I yet know that he is Dr. Khayme.  Jones sinks to the ground; the Doctor calls for brandy.  Then the Doctor and Jones and the wagon turn, round in my head and all vanish, and I find myself a vedette on the North Fork of the Rappahannock, and pull myself together with a jerk.

It had been vivid, intense, real.  I did not understand it, but I could not doubt it.

The relief came, and I went back to the picket-line and took my place near the right of Company H.

What next?  I had come to a stop.  Jones had fallen to the ground, and that was as far as I could get.  What had happened to him after that?

My interest in Jones had deepened.  I had tried to get rid of him and failed; now, when he disappeared of himself, I tried to see him, and failed.  I wish to say that my memory served me no longer in regard to Jones.  There was a blank—­a blank in regard to Jones and in regard to myself also.  I had got to the end of that experience, for I had no doubt that it was an experience of my own in some incomprehensible connection with Jones.

Then I return to Willis again—­and, wonder of wonders, I see Jones and Dr. Khayme with Willis at the straw.  There is another man also.  Who is he?  I do not know.  He and Jones lift Willis into an ambulance, and all go away into darkness.

My mind was now in a tangle.  Jones had abandoned Willis, yet had not abandoned him.  Which of the two incidents was true?  Neither?  Both?  If both, which followed the other?  I did not know.

I try to follow Willis; I cannot.  I try to follow Dr. Khayme; I fail.  I had tried to follow Jones, and had succeeded in a measure; I try again, and fail.

Now I see this fact, which seems to me remarkable:  I cannot remember Willis or the Doctor alone—­Jones is always present.

Jones—­Jones—­where have I known a man named Jones?  Jones, the corporal in Company H, was killed at Gettysburg; he is the only Jones I can recall.  Yet I must have had relations with a different Jones; who was he?  I must try to get him.

The Doctor’s face again; Jones, too, is there.  Jones is with the Doctor in a tent at night, and they are getting ready—­getting ready for what?  A package has been made.  They are talking.  The lights are put out and I lose the Doctor, but I can yet see Jones.  In the dim light of the stars he comes out of the tent; a man on a horse is near; he holds another horse, ready saddled.  Jones mounts, and the two ride away.  And I hear Jones ask, “What is your name?” and I hear the man reply, “Jones.”