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But if Heppner pointed this out to him, he would flourish the notes-of-hand under the sergeant-major's nose and threaten to lay them before Wegstetten. Heppner could think of no other way of escape than the chance of a sudden stroke of luck. Of course, however, he needed money in order to go on playing. He himself had no more, and nobody would lend to him.
And how could they load when the seats and the limber-boxes were still locked, and when the gun was still covered? The clever lieutenant had forgotten the word of command that should properly have been given before leaving the gun-park. And the best of it was that he didn't even now notice what was wrong. Wegstetten, close at hand, kept quite still.
Soon Wegstetten had no complaint to make of his sergeant-major, but Heimert still went on playing with his little figures. For these wooden guns and horsemen he was now the commander of the battery, and he would not be contented till his miniature troop was brought to as great a state of perfection as reigned under the captain of the sixth battery.
His contention against Wegstetten in pronouncing the six light bays too weak to drag gun six had indeed been proved correct. That, of course, afforded him a certain amount of satisfaction; but to have one horse dead and another disfigured was paying too high a price for it! They had now reached the top of the ridge, and the barracks could be descried far below in the valley.
Afterwards handsome presents were given him: from Wegstetten and the two lieutenants a beautiful gold watch; from Major Schrader a heavy gold chain for it; from the non-commissioned officers an album with views of the town and the barracks, and with photographic groups of officers, non-commissioned officers, men, and horses.
Schmidt, of the fourth battery, left four years ago, and he's got a good post as assistant station-master." Wegstetten reassured him: "You mustn't think I was serious, Schumann. I know better than any one what you've gone through and what I have to thank you for, and I shall wish you good luck with all my heart when you go.
Don't you think we could arrange it differently?" "No," answered the deputy sergeant-major; "you know that when Wegstetten has once got a thing into his head there's nothing more to be done." The sergeant-major shrugged his shoulders. "We two, at any rate," he said, "won't have the responsibility. I only hope it will turn out all right!
But when things were going right, they always had time for a word of praise and an appreciative smile. Even the sharp eyes of little Wegstetten could look quite good-humoured on occasion. But Senior-lieutenant Brettschneider always remained stand-offish, looking as if he had swallowed a poker. All this incensed our honest Vogt.
Wegstetten had had a violent altercation with Brettschneider, not only from personal feeling for the bombardier, but also from annoyance that his best candidate for a non-commissioned officer's post was lost to him through a piece of such tactless mismanagement.
Wegstetten has only just gone over to headquarters for a minute." "Damnation! What are we to do?" The sergeant-major believed Trautvetter was doing this on purpose. He became more insistent, and implored: "Trautvetter, for heaven's sake help me just for once! I beg of you! I beg of you! lend me the money!" With a shrug the volunteer held out his open purse.
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