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Four stretcher-bearers came down the hill at last, carrying two stretchers. Klitzing was first placed on one of them. "Where is he to go?" asked the foremost stretcher-bearer. Rademacher considered a moment, and then answered: "Up yonder, right on the brow of the hill, there's a farm, manor-house, or something of the sort. Take him there. On my responsibility."
Regardless of exaggeration, he spoke of that week's leave as if it were an extremely rare mark of distinction unheard of for years. And on the whole he gained his object. As Vogt and Klitzing stood before their commanding officer blushing with pride, they had the feeling that they must thank him, and promise to go on doing their duty. They only did not know how.
Vogt whispered gaily across to Klitzing, "Now we're off!" as the long procession of thirty-six guns and six ammunition-waggons began slowly to move. It was not half bad to be riding along like this.
In the theoretical work he was naturally far in advance of his comrades; for, despite idleness at school, this was mere child's play to his practised memory. He, who had had to learn hundreds of lines of the "Odyssey" by heart, could easily remember facts about the bores of guns! Klitzing also distinguished himself in these instruction-lessons.
Vogt and Klitzing were the last to leave Room IX. Klitzing went silently along by his wounded comrade and looked at him timidly. "Does it hurt, Franz?" he asked on the stairs. Vogt began hesitatingly: "Well, you know " but then when he saw his friend's sad eyes he continued: "Oh, no; it's not a bit bad." Tears stood in the clerk's eyes. "Franz, what a dear good fellow you are!" he said softly.
During drill Landsberg generally stood at the end of the parade-ground, looking utterly bored and staring at his boots, which he had had made in the style of Reimers'. It was only if Wegstetten was in sight that he troubled himself about the recruits. Then he would run to Corporal Wiegandt's division, and always began to abuse Klitzing, the "careless fellow," the "lazy-bones."
Klitzing had awakened. The sick man had moved his head to one side; his eyes were wide open, and he was looking through the long window. His gaze wandered till it rested on his friend, and apparently recognising him brightened with intense pleasure; then it returned to the picture framed by the window.
Here was Klitzing, who in the garrison had been looked on as the most feeble soldier of the lot, now all at once distinguishing himself! Vogt shook his head as he thought it over. He often felt glad that at any rate he was an artilleryman, for others had a much worse time of it.
The clerk went to Room IX. and showed the label to Vogt, who was already unpacking his parcel. Klitzing could say nothing; he could only press his friend's hand, while tears stood in his eyes. But Vogt shouted cheerfully: "I say! the old man has done finely! Let's see what else there is."
Vogt remembered how he had sometimes teased his friend about his sickly pallor; he racked his brains to think whether he had not wounded his feelings in other ways, and reproached himself for every harsh word he could remember using towards Klitzing. How much more friendly and affectionate he might often have been!
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