Explore "The Price of the Harness" by Stephen Crane on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In the cold light of dawn the men were on their knees, packing, strapping, and buckling. The comic toy hamlet of shelter-tents had been wiped out as if by a cyclone. Through the trees could be seen the crimson of a light battery's blankets, and the wheels creaked like the sound of a musketry fight. Nolan, well gripped by his shelter tent, his blanket, and his cartridge-belt, and bearing his rifle, advanced upon a small group of men who were hastily finishing a can of coffee.
"Say, give us a drink, will yeh? " he asked, wistfully. He was as sad-eyed as an orphan beggar.