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AN OCCURRENCE AT OWL CREEK BRIDGE
Page 4
Bierce, Ambrose - An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge
by Ambrose Bierce
THE MILLENNIUM FULCRUM EDITION, 1988
A man stood upon a railroad bridge in northern Alabama,
looking down into the swift water twenty feet below. The
man's hands were behind his back, the wrists bound with a
cord. A rope closely encircled his neck. It was attached to
a stout cross-timber above his head and the slack feel to the
level of his knees. Some loose boards laid upon the ties
supporting the rails of the railway supplied a footing for
him and his executioners -- two private soldiers of the
Federal army, directed by a sergeant who in civil life may
have been a deputy sheriff. At a short remove upon the same
temporary platform was an officer in the uniform of his rank,
armed. He was a captain. A sentinel at each end of the
bridge stood with his rifle in the position known as
"support," that is to say, vertical in front of the left
shoulder, the hammer resting on the forearm thrown straight
across the chest -- a formal and unnatural position,
enforcing an erect carriage of the body. It did not appear
to be the duty of these two men to know what was occurring at
the center of the bridge; they merely blockaded the two ends
of the foot planking that traversed it.
Beyond one of the sentinels nobody was in sight; the railroad
ran straight away into a forest for a hundred yards, then,
curving, was lost to view. Doubtless there was an outpost
farther along. The other bank of the stream was open ground
-- a gentle slope topped with a stockade of vertical tree
trunks, loopholed for rifles, with a single embrasure
through which protruded the muzzle of a brass cannon
commanding the bridge. Midway up the slope between the
bridge and fort were the spectators -- a single company of
infantry in line, at "parade rest," the butts of their rifles
on the ground, the barrels inclining slightly backward
against the right shoulder, the hands crossed upon the stock.
A lieutenant stood at the right of the line, the point
of his sword upon the ground, his left hand resting upon his
right. Excepting the group of four at the center of the
bridge, not a man moved. The company faced the bridge,
staring stonily, motionless. The sentinels, facing the
banks of the stream, might have been statues to adorn the
bridge. The captain stood with folded arms, silent,
observing the work of his subordinates, but making no sign.
Death is a dignitary who when he comes announced is to be