The Red Badge of Courage: An Episode of the American Civil War
no more a loud young soldier. There was about him now a fine reliance. He showed a quiet belief in his purposes and his abilities. And this inward confidence evidently enabled him to be indifferent to little words of other men aimed at him. 

 The youth reflected. He had been used to regarding his comrade as a blatant child with an audacity grown from his inexperience, thoughtless, headstrong, jealous, and filled with a tinsel courage. A swaggering babe accustomed to strut in his own dooryard. The youth wondered where had been born these new eyes; when his comrade had made the great discovery that there were many men who would refuse to be subjected by him. Apparently, the other had now climbed a peak of wisdom from which he could perceive himself as a very wee thing. And the youth saw that ever after it would be easier to live in his friend’s neighborhood. 

 His comrade balanced his ebony coffee-cup on his knee. “Well, Henry,” he said, “what d’yeh think th’ chances are? D’yeh think we’ll wallop ’em?” 

 The youth considered for a moment. “Day-b’fore-yesterday,” he finally replied, with boldness, “you would ’a’ bet you’d lick the hull kit-an’-boodle all by yourself.” 

 His friend looked a trifle amazed. “Would I?” he asked. He pondered. “Well, perhaps I would,” he decided at last. He stared humbly at the fire. 

 The youth was quite disconcerted at this surprising reception of his remarks. “Oh, no, you wouldn’t either,” he said, hastily trying to retrace. 

 But the other made a deprecating gesture. “Oh, yeh needn’t mind, Henry,” he said. “I believe I was a pretty big fool in those days.” He spoke as after a lapse of years. 

 There was a little pause. 

 “All th’ officers say we’ve got th’ rebs in a pretty tight box,” said the friend, clearing his throat in a commonplace way. “They all seem t’ think we’ve got ’em jest where we want ’em.” 

 “I don’t know about that,” the youth replied. “What I seen over on th’ right makes me think it was th’ other way about. From where I was, it looked as if we was gettin’ a good poundin’ yestirday.” 

 “D’yeh think so?” inquired the friend. “I thought we handled ’em pretty rough yestirday.” 

 “Not a bit,” said the youth. “Why, lord, man, you didn’t see nothing of the fight. Why!” Then a sudden thought 
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