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Amidst the panting and snorting of the frantic animals could be heard the groans of Sickel, who was lying somewhere under one of them. Heppner had recovered his self-possession in a moment. He called the four gunners to him, and was himself the first to jump down into the hollow. Vertler, the gun-leader, was close by on his horse, but scarcely seemed able to grasp what had happened.
"But we'll soon set it for you." Sickel listened open-mouthed. "Then I shall be ready to leave when I get my discharge?" he inquired. The medical officer smiled. "No, my friend, it will take from four to six weeks." This was too much for the driver, and he grumbled loudly.
A feeble hand was raised to his friend's shoulder, stroked it languidly, then fell heavily back. Again the eyes closed and remained shut, although Vogt went on earnestly begging and praying: "Heinrich! Heinrich! Tell me what is the matter! Can't I help you?" Sickel gazed thoughtfully at the two friends. He remembered the moment of departure, and how gay and merry the two gunners had been together.
The stretcher-bearers set out, Vogt joining them. The doctor had nodded assent to his beseeching glance. Sickel was just going to be carried away when two veterinary surgeons arrived to look after the injured horses. "Beg pardon, sir," said the driver, "but I should like so much to know what's wrong with my beast." Rademacher told the stretcher-bearers to wait.
But what's wrong with this one? I can't get him to come to," and he pointed to the motionless form of Klitzing. "Perhaps cold water would bring him round," said Sickel. "Down there to the left there must be a stream. You can hear it running." "Then I'll just go down there," returned the orderly. He laid the bottle of cordial at Vogt's feet and climbed down through the brushwood.
I don't know what you're always grinning about!" Bombardier Sickel was looking round at them with a surly expression, and he shook his head contemptuously. He, being a driver, did not think much of the gunners. What an easy life fellows like them had! While he what had he not got to see to? He went up to his team and looked anxiously at Turk, the horse he was to ride.
The sergeant-major kept close by and tried especially to egg on the wheel-driver. "Buck up, Sickel!" he cried. "Show us what you can make of this! You want to be thought our best driver, and you can't get up a little hill like this! Get on! Put your back into it!"
I wanted Cyrus for the wheel, and old Turk for the baggage-waggon, but as the other five are light bays, Wegstetten insisted on having the Turk, That's why he has put Sickel on him, our best driver. He thought he'd make him go at any rate, if the worst came to the worst." Heppner remained thoughtful. At last he said, "Yes; but then old Turk hasn't much more go left in him.
At last the gelding managed to raise himself a little on his fore-legs, and at the same moment Truchsess dragged out the wheel-driver from under the saddle. Sickel made a weak attempt to stand up, but fell back in a swoon. The sergeant-major wiped the perspiration from his brow. Damnation! That had been a bad piece of work! He looked round him: three men and two horses knocked out of time.
The case of the horse was diagnosed as quickly as that of the rider. The vet. raised himself and said to his colleague: "The off hind-pastern is fractured." "Can anything be done?" asked the driver. The other shrugged his shoulders: "No, it's all up with him," he said. Sickel looked across at the Turk. "Poor old fellow!" he muttered to himself.
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