1 The youth kept the bright colors to the front.
2 A thousand details of color and form surged in his mind.
3 They splashed bits of warm color upon the dark lines of troops.
4 The youth, still the bearer of the colors, did not feel his idleness.
5 A dark battle line lay upon a sunstruck clearing that gleamed orange color.
6 And, moreover, there were no letters of faded gold speaking from the colors.
7 They were new and beautiful, and the color bearer habitually oiled the pole.
8 The blue of the line was crusted with steel color, and the brilliant flags projected.
9 He unconsciously assumed the attitude of the color bearer in the fight of the preceding day.
10 His busy mind had drawn for him large pictures extravagant in color, lurid with breathless deeds.
11 In the mad scramble he was aware that the color sergeant flinched suddenly, as if struck by a bludgeon.
12 Thus, many men of courage, he considered, would be obliged to desert the colors and scurry like chickens.
13 At last, however, he had made firm rebellion against this yellow light thrown upon the color of his ambitions.
14 The leaves, with their faces turned toward the blaze, were colored shifting hues of silver, often edged with red.
15 They jerked at it, stout and furious, but the color sergeant was dead, and the corpse would not relinquish its trust.
16 He was very busy marshaling the little black vagabonds of tin cups and pouring into them the streaming iron colored mixture from a small and sooty tin pail.
17 The profiles were motionless, carven; and afterward he remembered that the color sergeant was standing with his legs apart, as if he expected to be pushed to the ground.
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