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+<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge, by Ambrose Bierce</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
+at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
+are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
+country where you are located before using this eBook.
+</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Ambrose Bierce</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December, 1995 [eBook #375]<br />
+[Most recently updated: April 25, 2022]</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div>
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OCCURRENCE AT OWL CREEK BRIDGE ***</div>
+
+<h1>An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge</h1>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">by Ambrose Bierce</h2>
+
+<h4>THE MILLENNIUM FULCRUM EDITION, 1988</h4>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>I</h2>
+
+<p>
+A man stood upon a railroad bridge in northern Alabama, looking down into the
+swift water twenty feet below. The man&rsquo;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 fell 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&mdash;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
+&ldquo;support,&rdquo; that is to say, vertical in front of the left shoulder,
+the hammer resting on the forearm thrown straight across the chest&mdash;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.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+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&mdash;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&mdash;a single company of infantry in line,
+at &ldquo;parade rest,&rdquo; 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 received with
+formal manifestations of respect, even by those most familiar with him. In the
+code of military etiquette silence and fixity are forms of deference.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The man who was engaged in being hanged was apparently about thirty-five years
+of age. He was a civilian, if one might judge from his habit, which was that of
+a planter. His features were good&mdash;a straight nose, firm mouth, broad
+forehead, from which his long, dark hair was combed straight back, falling
+behind his ears to the collar of his well fitting frock coat. He wore a
+moustache and pointed beard, but no whiskers; his eyes were large and dark
+gray, and had a kindly expression which one would hardly have expected in one
+whose neck was in the hemp. Evidently this was no vulgar assassin. The liberal
+military code makes provision for hanging many kinds of persons, and gentlemen
+are not excluded.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The preparations being complete, the two private soldiers stepped aside and
+each drew away the plank upon which he had been standing. The sergeant turned
+to the captain, saluted and placed himself immediately behind that officer, who
+in turn moved apart one pace. These movements left the condemned man and the
+sergeant standing on the two ends of the same plank, which spanned three of the
+cross-ties of the bridge. The end upon which the civilian stood almost, but not
+quite, reached a fourth. This plank had been held in place by the weight of the
+captain; it was now held by that of the sergeant. At a signal from the former
+the latter would step aside, the plank would tilt and the condemned man go down
+between two ties. The arrangement commended itself to his judgement as simple
+and effective. His face had not been covered nor his eyes bandaged. He looked a
+moment at his &ldquo;unsteadfast footing,&rdquo; then let his gaze wander to
+the swirling water of the stream racing madly beneath his feet. A piece of
+dancing driftwood caught his attention and his eyes followed it down the
+current. How slowly it appeared to move! What a sluggish stream!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He closed his eyes in order to fix his last thoughts upon his wife and
+children. The water, touched to gold by the early sun, the brooding mists under
+the banks at some distance down the stream, the fort, the soldiers, the piece
+of drift&mdash;all had distracted him. And now he became conscious of a new
+disturbance. Striking through the thought of his dear ones was sound which he
+could neither ignore nor understand, a sharp, distinct, metallic percussion
+like the stroke of a blacksmith&rsquo;s hammer upon the anvil; it had the same
+ringing quality. He wondered what it was, and whether immeasurably distant or
+near by&mdash; it seemed both. Its recurrence was regular, but as slow as the
+tolling of a death knell. He awaited each new stroke with impatience
+and&mdash;he knew not why&mdash;apprehension. The intervals of silence grew
+progressively longer; the delays became maddening. With their greater
+infrequency the sounds increased in strength and sharpness. They hurt his ear
+like the thrust of a knife; he feared he would shriek. What he heard was the
+ticking of his watch.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He unclosed his eyes and saw again the water below him. &ldquo;If I could free
+my hands,&rdquo; he thought, &ldquo;I might throw off the noose and spring into
+the stream. By diving I could evade the bullets and, swimming vigorously, reach
+the bank, take to the woods and get away home. My home, thank God, is as yet
+outside their lines; my wife and little ones are still beyond the
+invader&rsquo;s farthest advance.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As these thoughts, which have here to be set down in words, were flashed into
+the doomed man&rsquo;s brain rather than evolved from it the captain nodded to
+the sergeant. The sergeant stepped aside.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>II</h2>
+
+<p>
+Peyton Farquhar was a well to do planter, of an old and highly respected
+Alabama family. Being a slave owner and like other slave owners a politician,
+he was naturally an original secessionist and ardently devoted to the Southern
+cause. Circumstances of an imperious nature, which it is unnecessary to relate
+here, had prevented him from taking service with that gallant army which had
+fought the disastrous campaigns ending with the fall of Corinth, and he chafed
+under the inglorious restraint, longing for the release of his energies, the
+larger life of the soldier, the opportunity for distinction. That opportunity,
+he felt, would come, as it comes to all in wartime. Meanwhile he did what he
+could. No service was too humble for him to perform in the aid of the South, no
+adventure too perilous for him to undertake if consistent with the character of
+a civilian who was at heart a soldier, and who in good faith and without too
+much qualification assented to at least a part of the frankly villainous dictum
+that all is fair in love and war.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+One evening while Farquhar and his wife were sitting on a rustic bench near the
+entrance to his grounds, a gray-clad soldier rode up to the gate and asked for
+a drink of water. Mrs. Farquhar was only too happy to serve him with her own
+white hands. While she was fetching the water her husband approached the dusty
+horseman and inquired eagerly for news from the front.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The Yanks are repairing the railroads,&rdquo; said the man, &ldquo;and
+are getting ready for another advance. They have reached the Owl Creek bridge,
+put it in order and built a stockade on the north bank. The commandant has
+issued an order, which is posted everywhere, declaring that any civilian caught
+interfering with the railroad, its bridges, tunnels, or trains will be
+summarily hanged. I saw the order.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;How far is it to the Owl Creek bridge?&rdquo; Farquhar asked.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;About thirty miles.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is there no force on this side of the creek?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Only a picket post half a mile out, on the railroad, and a single
+sentinel at this end of the bridge.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Suppose a man&mdash;a civilian and student of hanging&mdash;should elude
+the picket post and perhaps get the better of the sentinel,&rdquo; said
+Farquhar, smiling, &ldquo;what could he accomplish?&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The soldier reflected. &ldquo;I was there a month ago,&rdquo; he replied.
+&ldquo;I observed that the flood of last winter had lodged a great quantity of
+driftwood against the wooden pier at this end of the bridge. It is now dry and
+would burn like tinder.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The lady had now brought the water, which the soldier drank. He thanked her
+ceremoniously, bowed to her husband and rode away. An hour later, after
+nightfall, he repassed the plantation, going northward in the direction from
+which he had come. He was a Federal scout.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div class="chapter">
+
+<h2>III</h2>
+
+<p>
+As Peyton Farquhar fell straight downward through the bridge he lost
+consciousness and was as one already dead. From this state he was
+awakened&mdash;ages later, it seemed to him&mdash;by the pain of a sharp
+pressure upon his throat, followed by a sense of suffocation. Keen, poignant
+agonies seemed to shoot from his neck downward through every fiber of his body
+and limbs. These pains appeared to flash along well defined lines of
+ramification and to beat with an inconceivably rapid periodicity. They seemed
+like streams of pulsating fire heating him to an intolerable temperature. As to
+his head, he was conscious of nothing but a feeling of fullness&mdash;of
+congestion. These sensations were unaccompanied by thought. The intellectual
+part of his nature was already effaced; he had power only to feel, and feeling
+was torment. He was conscious of motion. Encompassed in a luminous cloud, of
+which he was now merely the fiery heart, without material substance, he swung
+through unthinkable arcs of oscillation, like a vast pendulum. Then all at
+once, with terrible suddenness, the light about him shot upward with the noise
+of a loud splash; a frightful roaring was in his ears, and all was cold and
+dark. The power of thought was restored; he knew that the rope had broken and
+he had fallen into the stream. There was no additional strangulation; the noose
+about his neck was already suffocating him and kept the water from his lungs.
+To die of hanging at the bottom of a river!&mdash;the idea seemed to him
+ludicrous. He opened his eyes in the darkness and saw above him a gleam of
+light, but how distant, how inaccessible! He was still sinking, for the light
+became fainter and fainter until it was a mere glimmer. Then it began to grow
+and brighten, and he knew that he was rising toward the surface&mdash;knew it
+with reluctance, for he was now very comfortable. &ldquo;To be hanged and
+drowned,&rdquo; he thought, &ldquo;that is not so bad; but I do not wish to be
+shot. No; I will not be shot; that is not fair.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was not conscious of an effort, but a sharp pain in his wrist apprised him
+that he was trying to free his hands. He gave the struggle his attention, as an
+idler might observe the feat of a juggler, without interest in the outcome.
+What splendid effort!&mdash;what magnificent, what superhuman strength! Ah,
+that was a fine endeavor! Bravo! The cord fell away; his arms parted and
+floated upward, the hands dimly seen on each side in the growing light. He
+watched them with a new interest as first one and then the other pounced upon
+the noose at his neck. They tore it away and thrust it fiercely aside, its
+undulations resembling those of a water snake. &ldquo;Put it back, put it
+back!&rdquo; He thought he shouted these words to his hands, for the undoing of
+the noose had been succeeded by the direst pang that he had yet experienced.
+His neck ached horribly; his brain was on fire, his heart, which had been
+fluttering faintly, gave a great leap, trying to force itself out at his mouth.
+His whole body was racked and wrenched with an insupportable anguish! But his
+disobedient hands gave no heed to the command. They beat the water vigorously
+with quick, downward strokes, forcing him to the surface. He felt his head
+emerge; his eyes were blinded by the sunlight; his chest expanded convulsively,
+and with a supreme and crowning agony his lungs engulfed a great draught of
+air, which instantly he expelled in a shriek!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He was now in full possession of his physical senses. They were, indeed,
+preternaturally keen and alert. Something in the awful disturbance of his
+organic system had so exalted and refined them that they made record of things
+never before perceived. He felt the ripples upon his face and heard their
+separate sounds as they struck. He looked at the forest on the bank of the
+stream, saw the individual trees, the leaves and the veining of each
+leaf&mdash;he saw the very insects upon them: the locusts, the brilliant bodied
+flies, the gray spiders stretching their webs from twig to twig. He noted the
+prismatic colors in all the dewdrops upon a million blades of grass. The
+humming of the gnats that danced above the eddies of the stream, the beating of
+the dragon flies&rsquo; wings, the strokes of the water spiders&rsquo; legs,
+like oars which had lifted their boat&mdash;all these made audible music. A
+fish slid along beneath his eyes and he heard the rush of its body parting the
+water.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+He had come to the surface facing down the stream; in a moment the visible
+world seemed to wheel slowly round, himself the pivotal point, and he saw the
+bridge, the fort, the soldiers upon the bridge, the captain, the sergeant, the
+two privates, his executioners. They were in silhouette against the blue sky.
+They shouted and gesticulated, pointing at him. The captain had drawn his
+pistol, but did not fire; the others were unarmed. Their movements were
+grotesque and horrible, their forms gigantic.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Suddenly he heard a sharp report and something struck the water smartly within
+a few inches of his head, spattering his face with spray. He heard a second
+report, and saw one of the sentinels with his rifle at his shoulder, a light
+cloud of blue smoke rising from the muzzle. The man in the water saw the eye of
+the man on the bridge gazing into his own through the sights of the rifle. He
+observed that it was a gray eye and remembered having read that gray eyes were
+keenest, and that all famous marksmen had them. Nevertheless, this one had
+missed.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A counter-swirl had caught Farquhar and turned him half round; he was again
+looking at the forest on the bank opposite the fort. The sound of a clear, high
+voice in a monotonous singsong now rang out behind him and came across the
+water with a distinctness that pierced and subdued all other sounds, even the
+beating of the ripples in his ears. Although no soldier, he had frequented
+camps enough to know the dread significance of that deliberate, drawling,
+aspirated chant; the lieutenant on shore was taking a part in the
+morning&rsquo;s work. How coldly and pitilessly&mdash;with what an even, calm
+intonation, presaging, and enforcing tranquility in the men&mdash;with what
+accurately measured interval fell those cruel words:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;Company!&#8230; Attention!&#8230; Shoulder arms!&#8230; Ready!&#8230;
+Aim!&#8230; Fire!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Farquhar dived&mdash;dived as deeply as he could. The water roared in his ears
+like the voice of Niagara, yet he heard the dull thunder of the volley and,
+rising again toward the surface, met shining bits of metal, singularly
+flattened, oscillating slowly downward. Some of them touched him on the face
+and hands, then fell away, continuing their descent. One lodged between his
+collar and neck; it was uncomfortably warm and he snatched it out.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+As he rose to the surface, gasping for breath, he saw that he had been a long
+time under water; he was perceptibly farther downstream&mdash;nearer to safety.
+The soldiers had almost finished reloading; the metal ramrods flashed all at
+once in the sunshine as they were drawn from the barrels, turned in the air,
+and thrust into their sockets. The two sentinels fired again, independently and
+ineffectually.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+The hunted man saw all this over his shoulder; he was now swimming vigorously
+with the current. His brain was as energetic as his arms and legs; he thought
+with the rapidity of lightning:
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;The officer,&rdquo; he reasoned, &ldquo;will not make that
+martinet&rsquo;s error a second time. It is as easy to dodge a volley as a
+single shot. He has probably already given the command to fire at will. God
+help me, I cannot dodge them all!&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+An appalling splash within two yards of him was followed by a loud, rushing
+sound, DIMINUENDO, which seemed to travel back through the air to the fort and
+died in an explosion which stirred the very river to its deeps! A rising sheet
+of water curved over him, fell down upon him, blinded him, strangled him! The
+cannon had taken an hand in the game. As he shook his head free from the
+commotion of the smitten water he heard the deflected shot humming through the
+air ahead, and in an instant it was cracking and smashing the branches in the
+forest beyond.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+&ldquo;They will not do that again,&rdquo; he thought; &ldquo;the next time
+they will use a charge of grape. I must keep my eye upon the gun; the smoke
+will apprise me&mdash;the report arrives too late; it lags behind the missile.
+That is a good gun.&rdquo;
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Suddenly he felt himself whirled round and round&mdash;spinning like a top. The
+water, the banks, the forests, the now distant bridge, fort and men, all were
+commingled and blurred. Objects were represented by their colors only; circular
+horizontal streaks of color&mdash;that was all he saw. He had been caught in a
+vortex and was being whirled on with a velocity of advance and gyration that
+made him giddy and sick. In few moments he was flung upon the gravel at the
+foot of the left bank of the stream&mdash;the southern bank&mdash;and behind a
+projecting point which concealed him from his enemies. The sudden arrest of his
+motion, the abrasion of one of his hands on the gravel, restored him, and he
+wept with delight. He dug his fingers into the sand, threw it over himself in
+handfuls and audibly blessed it. It looked like diamonds, rubies, emeralds; he
+could think of nothing beautiful which it did not resemble. The trees upon the
+bank were giant garden plants; he noted a definite order in their arrangement,
+inhaled the fragrance of their blooms. A strange roseate light shone through
+the spaces among their trunks and the wind made in their branches the music of
+AEolian harps. He had not wish to perfect his escape&mdash;he was content to
+remain in that enchanting spot until retaken.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+A whiz and a rattle of grapeshot among the branches high above his head roused
+him from his dream. The baffled cannoneer had fired him a random farewell. He
+sprang to his feet, rushed up the sloping bank, and plunged into the forest.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+All that day he traveled, laying his course by the rounding sun. The forest
+seemed interminable; nowhere did he discover a break in it, not even a
+woodman&rsquo;s road. He had not known that he lived in so wild a region. There
+was something uncanny in the revelation.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+By nightfall he was fatigued, footsore, famished. The thought of his wife and
+children urged him on. At last he found a road which led him in what he knew to
+be the right direction. It was as wide and straight as a city street, yet it
+seemed untraveled. No fields bordered it, no dwelling anywhere. Not so much as
+the barking of a dog suggested human habitation. The black bodies of the trees
+formed a straight wall on both sides, terminating on the horizon in a point,
+like a diagram in a lesson in perspective. Overhead, as he looked up through
+this rift in the wood, shone great golden stars looking unfamiliar and grouped
+in strange constellations. He was sure they were arranged in some order which
+had a secret and malign significance. The wood on either side was full of
+singular noises, among which&mdash;once, twice, and again&mdash;he distinctly
+heard whispers in an unknown tongue.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+His neck was in pain and lifting his hand to it found it horribly swollen. He
+knew that it had a circle of black where the rope had bruised it. His eyes felt
+congested; he could no longer close them. His tongue was swollen with thirst;
+he relieved its fever by thrusting it forward from between his teeth into the
+cold air. How softly the turf had carpeted the untraveled avenue&mdash;he could
+no longer feel the roadway beneath his feet!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Doubtless, despite his suffering, he had fallen asleep while walking, for now
+he sees another scene&mdash;perhaps he has merely recovered from a delirium. He
+stands at the gate of his own home. All is as he left it, and all bright and
+beautiful in the morning sunshine. He must have traveled the entire night. As
+he pushes open the gate and passes up the wide white walk, he sees a flutter of
+female garments; his wife, looking fresh and cool and sweet, steps down from
+the veranda to meet him. At the bottom of the steps she stands waiting, with a
+smile of ineffable joy, an attitude of matchless grace and dignity. Ah, how
+beautiful she is! He springs forwards with extended arms. As he is about to
+clasp her he feels a stunning blow upon the back of the neck; a blinding white
+light blazes all about him with a sound like the shock of a cannon&mdash;then
+all is darkness and silence!
+</p>
+
+<p>
+Peyton Farquhar was dead; his body, with a broken neck, swung gently from side
+to side beneath the timbers of the Owl Creek bridge.
+</p>
+
+</div><!--end chapter-->
+
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN OCCURRENCE AT OWL CREEK BRIDGE ***</div>
+<div style='text-align:left'>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+Updated editions will replace the previous one&#8212;the old editions will
+be renamed.
+</div>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright
+law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works,
+so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
+States without permission and without paying copyright
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