Franz Adam Beyerlein

"Reservists they may rest,
Reservists may rest;
And if reservists rest may have,
Then may reservists rest."

(Song of the Reserve.)

Thursday, September 19th, four P.M., was fixed for the funeral of Gunner Heinrich Karl Klitzing, "accidentally killed on September 16th, and to be buried in the nearest convenient churchyard." The order ended with the words; "The cost of the funeral shall be provisionally defrayed by the regiment."

During the intervening three days the manoeuvring force had moved on to the plain, so that they lay at a distance of nearly fifteen miles from the castle. On foot this would mean a march of four hours, and it was therefore impossible to allow many of the men to take part in the funeral. On Wednesday evening the sergeant read out the order that "those who wished to attend the ceremony, and felt able to undertake the fatiguing march there and back, should come forward."

The men looked grave. Nearly all of them would have liked to show this last sign of respect to the comrade who had died so honourable a death; but to be on their feet for eight hours, and that after the fatigue of the manoeuvres, was too much.

Only three gave in their names: Count Plettau, Wolf, and Truchsess,

Senior-lieutenant GÜntz looked surprised. He had never expected it from the first two, and such a decision from the fat brewer certainly showed great devotion. But, in any case, their intentions were excellent, and so they must have their way.

He himself would see to Vogt, who was again on duty, the wound on his forehead covered with plaster; the gunner should ride on the box of his own carnage. For he, as the officer commanding the battery, Reimers as its lieutenant, and the sergeant-major, were, in a way, obliged to attend the funeral. Besides these, Sergeant Wiegandt was to go with them as representative of the other non-commissioned officers; while head-quarters Colonel Falkenhein and Major Schrader had notified their intention of being present with their adjutants.

At the end of one of the wings of the castle there was a small room arranged as a chapel, and an enclosure which adjoined the park was used as a graveyard.

A fine drizzle was falling, so the short service was held in the chapel.

Nothing was lacking in the obsequies of the poor clerk. The major, from his private means, had doubled the sum to be spent on the funeral, A beautiful oak coffin therefore stood in the centre of the little chapel, covered with the wreaths sent by the battery comrades of the dead man, by Schrader on the part of the division, and by Falkenhein on that of the regiment. They were thick wreaths of laurel, adorned with simple ribbon bows. The white-haired widow of the keeper of the castle had also picked all the flowers she could find still spared by autumn, and had made wreaths of many-coloured asters and dahlias, with which she had decorated the coffin, somewhat fantastically. While rummaging in the attics, she had found in some corner a chest, forgotten for perhaps a hundred years, full of old-fashioned moulded candles, and with these she had filled two many-branched candelabra.

The pastor stood at the head of the coffin and began the service; behind him the sexton had taken up his position with folded hands. On either side sat the officers and men, holding their helmets on their knees and looking on with serious countenances. The old woman knelt crouching on a prie-dieu, and hid her face in her hands. When the pastor had pronounced a final "Amen," the four gunners raised the coffin on their shoulders and bore it to the little graveyard. The sexton preceded the coffin, and behind it followed, in order, the pastor, the two staff officers, GÜntz and Reimers, the two adjutants, Heppner and Wiegandt, and last came the woman and her son.

At the grave the pastor pronounced the blessing and prayed. Then the four soldiers lifted the coffin up by the black straps, the sexton removed the supporting boards, and the dead man was slowly lowered to his place of rest.

The colonel now stepped forward and spoke a few simple words in remembrance of the dead. He recalled his genuine loyalty to his comrades, proved even by his death, and pronounced happy that prince and that country in whose army so brave a soldier was counted.

Every man present threw three handfuls of earth on the coffin, and the funeral was at an end.

The little procession left the graveyard at a quicker pace than when it came. Vogt remained alone at the graveside.

The carriage drove up, but Vogt was still missing, and they had to fetch him from the grave. As he sat on the box, he looked back wistfully at the spot where his dear friend lay buried.

The last day of the manoeuvres had come. A light mist which veiled the autumn sun made the heat bearable. The exercises ended in the early forenoon, and, after a final parade, the troops marched off to their garrisons. The infantry were despatched in long railway-trains, while the mounted branches of the service covered the ground by moderate marches. The 80th regiment was lucky; its garrison could be reached by a four hours' march.

In order to avoid the inevitable stoppages of an immoderately long marching column, the colonel had appointed different roads for the separate batteries, and had fixed on a meeting-place at a short distance from the barracks, whence they could march in together.

The sixth battery had trotted down a slight incline on the high road, and afterwards climbed the next rise at a slow pace. The horses no longer tugged at their traces. They drew the guns patiently and bravely, but with subdued spirits. Sergeant Heppner looked on thoughtfully; the animals were certainly more used up this time than on former occasions of the kind. Their sleek sides had fallen in; and a couple of them looked very rough in the coat, too. This in addition to the facts that away somewhere in a bone-mill poor old Turk's bones had perhaps already been ground into dust, and that Eidechse was not exactly improved by that gigantic wound in the buttock, which had been sewn up by the farrier with innumerable stitches.

But this was all because the officers would not listen to such an experienced counsellor as himself. 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. There was plenty of time before the rendezvous, so the battery might still keep to their easy pace. Nevertheless, the time of the march was gradually accelerated the horses of course could not yet scent the nearness of their stables; but the men were impatient, and involuntarily urged the animals on. Having once seen the barracks, they wanted to be home as soon as possible.

Half of them, it was true, were only to sleep one more night within these walls; then they would doff the green coat and be once more their own masters. To these men it felt as if their time of service had ended with the parade which closed the manoeuvres. When they had marched past the commanding general they had still been soldiers; but if now they received orders, they would not carry them out with the prompt, alert movements to which they had been trained during the last two years. They took things more leisurely now. The drill which had been thrashed into them already began to be forgotten; only a perfunctory obedience remained.

It was as though a spirit of revolt had taken possession of the men. There were many among them who had never thought of concerning themselves with the aims of Social-Democracy; who might perhaps have returned to their ploughs and their spades in a docile and dutiful spirit. But now it dawned upon them all at once how the little they as soldiers had been obliged to learn had been made quite unnecessarily difficult for them. They stripped off, like a troublesome strait-waistcoat, the superfluity of petty rules to which they had been subjected; and the recognition of the needless compulsion they had so long endured produced, as its inevitable consequence, a violent reaction, which quite naturally manifested itself in a hasty change of opinion. Many of those who, on their discharge the next morning, would have to join in the cheers for the Emperor and the King, had, no doubt, already on their lips the socialist song which would be sung after midnight in the taverns of their native places.

And the rest, who, from either stupidity or laziness, were not completely converted to such political views, were nevertheless not entirely free from their influence. There would remain in their minds some vestige of these ideas, and this seed would be carried back by the peasant lads to their remote villages, where the new wisdom from the city would bring forth fruit an hundredfold, sounding as it did so pleasantly to the ear. And yet the mighty lords of the soil wondered at the growth of the socialist vote among the purely agricultural electorate! Of course it continued to grow and to increase every year, because the army, under its present conditions simply constituted a school of Social-Democracy.

Vogt sat on his gun-carriage and cast sad glances at the man next to him, who had taken Klitzing's place: the blue-collared hospital-orderly On the outward march his friend had been his neighbour, and the talk between them had been hearty, merry, and familiar; it had been almost snug on the gun-carriage. But now that dear old comrade lay away there in the hills, and Vogt had to shift for himself during this last year of his service. He kept thinking how lonely it would be for him now in the barracks with the excitement of the autumn manoeuvres a thing of the past, and with the monotonous winter work beginning again.

Above, on the limber, Wolf sat between Truchsess and Plettau. The nearer the wished-for day of freedom approached the more nervous Wolf became. He tried not even to think of life after his discharge, always fearing that some slip might still occur to detain him longer in his fetters. There was now only this one last day and this one last night to endure--then he would be free. He felt as if now he might dare to breathe freely. What could possibly happen amiss? There was no more duty, merely the formal giving up of his kit. Then he would take his certificate of discharge and would be able to go wherever he wished.

And so it came about that Wolf was filled with joy as they passed in through the barrack gates.

That very afternoon the men whose time was expired handed over their packing materials and all that could be spared of their outfit and uniform, only retaining the suit they had on. Of course, until the morning of the day of their discharge, they remained soldiers; but it was impossible to keep up the usual discipline, and the authorities gave every one, from first to last, a loose rein.

After the orders of the day had been read, the half-demoralised crew dispersed themselves through the town. They stood at the doors of houses, clasping servant-maids round the waist. When a superior officer passed by they assumed the regulation attitude slowly and carelessly, and the officers and non-commissioned officers took pains not to see the incipient insubordination. Rebellious phrases passed from mouth to mouth, and many a one boasted how he would thrash this or that corporal or sergeant--when once he was in civilian dress.

"When once one is in civilian dress"--that seemed to be the noisy pass-word given out for the evening. It was as though these swaggering men could no longer endure the last hardly perceptible signs of the discipline to which they had so long obediently submitted; as though this evening would end in open mutiny.

Wolf took no part in these noisy demonstrations; he was perhaps the only reservist in the whole regiment who held aloof. He could not stand the noise and the drunkenness. The whole of that free afternoon he stayed in the barrack-room, dreaming away comfortably, and looking at the first-year men, who now, when the "old gang" had left, would suddenly have about twice as much to do as hitherto. If a non-commissioned officer crossed the threshold, he jumped up and stood at attention, quickly and accurately, just as he had done at any time during these last two years. Why not still continue to play the comedy for these few remaining hours, after having been an actor so long?

With almost affectionate zeal he cleaned and polished the accoutrements he had to hand over; and he had the satisfaction of having his kit held up as an example by Sergeant Keyser, his former enemy, to others who gave in things insufficiently cleaned. The sergeant, it is true, promptly ceased his praises when, seeing the name marked on the various articles, he realised who the exemplary gunner was; however, that was no matter.

After the orders of the day had been read, Wolf walked restlessly up and down the courtyard of the barracks. Would this day never end? The sun had set behind the heights in the west some time since, but a dull glow still overspread that part of the sky. He quitted the barracks by the back gate and walked round the great quadrangle of the drill-ground. The vast space had been freshly strewn with that fine coke refuse which, in the wet seasons of the year, works up into such an ugly black slush. In an absent-minded way he stirred the loose grit with the toe of his boot, then smoothed the surface with the sole, and dug little channels in it.

When he looked up from this amusement it was growing dark; and then the last evening was succeeded by the last night. Most of the men slept the heavy sleep of drunkenness; Wolf never closed his eyes. He heard every stroke of the clock, and the intervening half-hours seemed to him of infinite duration.

Half an hour before the reveille he rose. A cold sponge waked him up thoroughly, and after this sleepless night he felt a thousand times fresher and stronger than at other times after enjoying his full share of rest. He opened the window of the bathroom, and let the cool air of the grey morning fan his chest. A fine autumn day was dawning for this feast-day of freedom, so long desired. A thin haze still veiled the prospect, but was retiring shyly before the approach of the conquering sun.

With sparkling eyes he gazed over the opposite roofs towards the hills, from behind which the lord of day must soon emerge. He stood erect and stretched his arms out wide.

Now for the first time he dared to believe in his happiness.

He took his civilian clothes from the chest as if they had been precious treasures. The trumpet was just sounding the reveille while he dressed himself. The white shirt, the clean collar, the comfortable jacket, and the soft slouched hat--how light they were and how easily they fitted! Another sign that this cramping restraint was at an end!

He stood there ready, as his comrades came yawning and rough-headed from the dormitory. They looked at him in surprise.

"You're in a damned hurry," said one of them. And Wolf answered gaily, "Yes, indeed, I've waited long enough!"

Now came the last falling into line as a soldier, and the handing over of the clothing and kit which had been used at the last.

Sergeant Keyser went into each room and superintended the counting over of the separate articles. Then he threw them over the arm of a gunner who was to carry them to the kit-room.

He had intentionally left Wolf's room to the last, and had despatched all the other reservists before him. For he meant to pay out the socialist fellow who had let him in for six weeks' arrest; Wolf should have to wait about as long as possible before being finally released from military discipline.

At last, however, his turn came. He counted out just the right number of articles; the buttons of the jacket shone again, and not a rent was to be found anywhere. He folded the trousers and beat them with his hand--not a particle of dust rose from them. The leather things also were unimpeachable, and the boots were in the exact regulation condition--not brightly polished, but merely rubbed over with grease to prevent the leather from drying up.

Keyser muttered a surly "all right," and turning away threw the things over Findeisen's arm and put the boots into his hand. But the gunner, who was already holding four pairs by the tags, let them fall to the ground.

Sergeant Keyser picked them up, scolding furiously. The dust from the floor had stuck in thick streaks on the greasy leather.

Then a bright idea occurred to the sergeant. He held the boots up before Findeisen's face and bellowed at him, "Lick that off, you swine!"

It was not really meant literally, that was plain; but an ungovernable fury began to glow in his eyes.

Findeisen had drawn back. He ground his teeth and looked defiance straight into the sergeant's eyes.

This maddened Keyser. His face became purple with passion, and again he hissed out, "Dog, lick it at once!"

Suddenly the resolute spirit of opposition died out of Findeisen's eyes. The strong, broad-shouldered man bowed as if under the lash; he became pale as death, and actually touched the boot with his tongue.

The sergeant rubbed the leather roughly over his face, leaving patches of dirt and grease on the skin. Then he turned and looked Wolf straight in the eyes. "Do you see that, fellow?" the triumphant challenging look seemed to say: "Your comrade must abase himself to the level of the beasts, if we so will it,--we, who have the power!"

Wolf hit him full in the face with his clenched fist.

The sergeant staggered. He uttered a gurgling cry and tried to throw himself upon the reservist.

Then something unexpected happened, taking place so suddenly and so quickly that afterwards Wolf was hardly able to picture it. Findeisen had thrown to the ground all that he carried--the boots and the outfit. In a flash he seized the sergeant, held him raised for an instant in his powerful arms, and then flung him head forwards against the wall.

The skull struck the wall with a dull thud, and the body fell heavily to the ground.

There was a cry of "Stop that!" Deputy sergeant-major Heimert rushed through the doorway and flung himself upon Findeisen. The gunner defended himself wildly, hitting, biting, and scratching; he felt that he was fighting for his life, but Heimert was a match for him.

Others soon came, too,--non-commissioned officers and men. They dragged the raving soldier to the ground and bound him.

Wolf stood motionless, and let them tie his arms behind his back. His head was in a whirl, and it all seemed a confused dream.

It really was quite ludicrous that his first dream, of happy release from the service, should have such a horrible sequel. This was certainly a nightmare.

He shook his head and tugged at the cords which bound his hands, trying to awake from the hideous delusion. The cords pressed deeper into the flesh, and the pain brought him back to reality.

He gazed round, not trusting his eyes.

This was indeed the old dormitory in which he had slept these two years. A lot of people were standing together and speaking with excited gestures. The air was thick with dust, as if from a fight; and just by the press, near a bundle of clothing, lay a man, his arms tied behind his back, his face deadly pale, and his chest heaving. It was Findeisen. And four soldiers were lifting another--Sergeant Keyser--who lay stretched out by the wall near the window. The sergeant's face was quite white, and his limbs hung limply down from his body.

"He's done for!" said the voice of Sergeant-major Heppner. "Carry him to his room and lay him on his bed."

And four soldiers carried the dead man past Wolf out through the door.

The sergeant-major sent away the other loitering gunners, and only the non-commissioned officers remained in the room with the two bound men.

Heppner stepped up to Wolf and looked him over from head to foot.

"Your fine civilian clothes, my lad," he said, "will have to lie a bit longer in the chest."

He picked out Wolf's things from the bundles scattered about the room, and threw them over the reservist's shoulders.

"There," he said mockingly, "that will suit your complexion better. And what'll suit you best of all is a convict's grey suit. In the meantime, just get yourself up as a gunner again, my son."

He ordered two of the non-commissioned officers to put Wolf and Findeisen under arrest.

"Look out!" he warned the corporals. "These two scoundrels are capable of anything. And if they utter a word, then you know why you've got swords dangling at your sides!"

The two prisoners were led across the yard to the guard-house. The reservists were just collecting before the barracks. Most of them went about arm in arm, and in their uproarious spirits made passes in the air with their betassled walking-sticks.

As the little procession passed the noisy crowd, the merry songs ceased. The reservists, taken aback, stepped aside, and amid startled whispers looked after the prisoners.

Findeisen walked with bowed head. They had put his cap on right over his forehead, so that he could hardly see from under it. Wolf looked straight ahead, but walked as if in a fog. He saw nothing of what was passing before him, and stumbled as he stepped across a gutter.

The corporal on guard was going to unlock two contiguous cells for the prisoners, but one of the men in charge of them objected.

"They might communicate with each other by knocking or somehow," he said. "Better lock them up as far apart as possible."

So Wolf was put into the cell nearest to the road, and Findeisen into one at the other end of the corridor.

The corporal placed the reservist's uniform on a stool, and near by the pair of boots which had caused the dispute, still bearing traces of dust.

"Change your clothes quickly," he said. "I must take back your plain clothes with me at once."

But Wolf stood there motionless.

He heard the key turn in the lock without realising what was happening. Then the steps retreated from his door, once more the great bunch of keys jingled, another door was opened, creaked unwillingly on its hinges, and was slammed to and locked.

The voices of the non-commissioned officers resounded in the stone-paved corridor as they returned to the guard-room.

"What have the fellows done?" asked the soldier on guard.

The answer was almost lost behind a corner of the passage: "Murder--Sergeant Keyser."

The reservist still stood motionless beside the stool. He was trying in vain to think why he was here. What was he doing here, when it was to-day that he was at last released from the hated discipline? He passed his hand over his eyes, as if to remove something that was covering them, and mechanically he pressed down the latch of the door.

It was indeed true; he was locked in.

Again the key sounded in the lock, and the corporal on guard entered. Behind him a gunner brought a jug of water into the cell, set it down, and at once retired.

"Why haven't you changed yet?" asked the corporal.

The reservist stared at him blankly, without comprehension.

"Damnation!" thundered his superior. "Change your clothes this moment, do you hear?"

And Wolf sat down obediently on the stool. Automatically he took off his coat and trousers, undid his collar, and pulled off his shoes. Then he took off his hat also; and in the same mechanical way dressed himself again in uniform.

The corporal had bidden him a couple of times to make haste, and now he threw the civilian clothes over his arm.

"Everything must be taken away from you," he said as he went.

Wolf nodded, and dully looked on. Once he moved as though to seize at something--the corporal's fingers were not clean, and were dirtying his white collar; he might at least hold it by the edge--but the outstretched hand sank back languidly.

Such behaviour made the corporal look serious. When in the guard-room he handed over the clothes to the non-commissioned officer who had brought in the prisoners, he pointed with his thumb back over his shoulder, and said: "That fellow there's not quite right in his head."

"Do you think not?" asked the other.

"Yes, I do. So I took away his braces, and now at least he can't hang himself."

Wolf had involuntarily stood at attention as the corporal left the cell, and when the door closed he put forward his right foot and relaxed his position just as if the order "Stand at ease" had been given.

He looked down at his worn uniform, the green cloth of which was grey and threadbare, while the madder-red facings had faded to a dirty pink. The well-polished buttons shone, and a darker patch in a corner of the tunic showed up clearly against the shabby material.

By that patch he recognised the coat which he had worn for two endless years, and which he still wore; and all at once he understood his fate.

Under the horror of the revelation he broke down. He sank helplessly on the stool, and hid his face in his hands.

He was still incapable of ordered thought. Only one thing could he grasp, that his dream of freedom lay shattered and destroyed before him. This single, fearful, desperate certainty so entirely filled his mind, that his capacity for other thought seemed paralysed. His senses received external impressions, but did not transmit them to the brain.

Wolf's cell was situated in the outermost corner of the guard-house. At a distance of about ten paces the high-road ran past the brick wall, which was none too thick. Besides this, a small pane of the window was open; so that the crunching of the wheels as they turned on the freshly-laid metalling, the encouragements of the drivers to their horses, and the cracking of the whips, could be distinctly heard. Even the steps of the passers-by were audible, and a word here and there of their conversation.

Wolf still sat upon the stool. All these noises reached his ear, but he paid no heed to them.

Suddenly he raised his head.

An indistinct sound of distant singing came in snatches through the little window, borne by gusts of wind. Nearer and nearer it approached. Now the singers seemed to be turning a corner, their measured tread became audible, and their hearty voices rang out:

The song of the reservists who were leaving the barracks and marching to the station.

From time to time the rough joke of some passing wit interrupted the song. Then the reservists would break out into a loud laugh and call back some still more spicy retort. But they always took up their jingling refrain, repeating the childish words again and again, and jogging along clumsily, keeping time to the song.

Wolf heard the harsh sounds gradually retreating, till finally they died away in the direction of the town.

Once more he buried his face in his hands.

When at last he sat up again, he had conquered himself. He had determined to wage war against fate.

Upright and with firm steps he paced up and down his cell. He thought over everything that could serve for his defence: how he had held himself in check, so as not in any way to prolong by his own fault his time of service; how he had even looked on quietly when Findeisen obeyed the sergeant's humiliating order; but how Keyser's provocative look had made his blood boil and had driven him to his unlucky deed. He had, it is true, raised his hand against a superior; but the sight of the gunner licking the dust off the boots had seemed to him an insult to humanity itself.

The judges would not be able to disregard this, and at least they would judge his offence leniently. Even if their outlook on life were diametrically opposed to his own, surely in pronouncing their verdict on him that could not prevent their taking into consideration the purity of his motives.

And he thought out a speech of defence which must penetrate the hearts of the judges, a speech full of eloquent, inspiring words about that dignity of man which none should wound with impunity, and about that justifiable wrath which is not only excusable, but even praiseworthy.

He intoxicated himself with his thoughts. Hope dazzled him, and already he saw himself acquitted. He piled up argument after argument, and planned artistically-turned periods and effective antitheses, concluding his apology with a sublime appeal to the sense of justice of his judges.

The hours passed. He paced incessantly up and down the narrow cell, with a glowing face and sparkling eyes. The bowl of food which had been brought in for his dinner stood untouched. What had he to do with food and drink? He was contending for something higher--for his freedom.

In the afternoon he was taken before the officer who was to conduct the inquiry, who had been summoned by telegraph from the divisional head-quarters.

The proceedings took place in barrack-room VII. of the sixth battery, the scene of the fatal incident. At the table sat the presiding officer, a stout man, whose head rose red and swollen above his tight collar. He had a couple of sheets of paper before him, and while interrogating constantly fidgeted with a pencil. A clerk waited with pen to paper.

The hearing began.

Findeisen, when questioned, maintained a stubborn silence. The examining officer tried by reasoning and by scolding to get something out of him; the gunner remained dumb. He kept his eyes on the ground, from time to time glancing furtively at the door. But two non-commissioned officers were posted on the threshold.

Wolf gave an accurate and connected account of what had occurred. The clerk's pen flew swiftly over the paper. Then the examining officer read the report aloud. "Is that correct?" he asked Wolf. "Yes, sir."

He turned to Findeisen: "I ask you also, is that correct? If you have any objection to make, out with it! For as it stands, the account is not exactly favourable to you. Therefore I ask you if you have anything to say against this version?"

Then Findeisen gave his first answer during the proceedings, he shook his head.

"Nothing, then?" asked the examining officer. The gunner repeated, "Nothing."

Deputy sergeant-major Heimert, as the only witness, had nothing else to depose beyond what Wolf had already said: and Findeisen again persisted in his silence.

After this, the officer closed the judicial examination. He gave orders that Wolf should be conducted back to his cell, while Findeisen was to be confronted with the corpse of the sergeant.

Keyser's death had resulted from fracture of the skull, due to its forcible impact against the wall. The medical report, however, stated that fatal consequences had resulted on account of the unusual thinness of the skull.

The two orderlies took Findeisen between them and escorted him to the infirmary. Wolf went with the soldier on guard diagonally across the yard back to the guard-house. He mounted the steps composedly. Before the door he stopped for a moment, drew the fresh air deep into his lungs, and looked all round him. Then he was locked into his cell again.

The examination had opened his eyes; he had been on quite a wrong tack when he had hoped to convince his judges by a fiery speech. In the midst of this cold calm procedure, his words would sound distorted and fantastic, and his eloquent tongue would fail him. The views of these men were separated from his by an impassable gulf. However good a will they might have, they were absolutely incapable of understanding him.

No, he would undergo his examination quietly and without any attempt at eloquence. Would not the naked facts speak loudly enough in his favour?

He no longer had any hope of an acquittal. On the contrary, he knew he would be condemned; but his punishment could not be severe. He called to memory all the similar cases that he had known. They had almost always resulted in less than a year of imprisonment. It was true that in none of these had there been an actual assault on the person of a superior, such as he had committed. But could that make a very great difference?

On the whole he thought it most likely that he would get off with about six months, and he already began to arm himself with patience to bear the hundred and eighty dreary days. It was quite certain that even one hundred and eighty days must have an end.

Suddenly he felt hungry, greedily hungry, and he hastily attacked the food he had hitherto left untouched. The meat lay in the cold gravy surrounded by congealed fat. The first mouthful gave him a strong feeling of disgust; nevertheless, he swallowed the meat down quickly, and finished the gravy to the last drop.

It was soon disposed of, and then he began to take stock of his surroundings: the grey walls, the water jug, and the stool in the corner; the plank bed, strapped up to the wall during the day. The grated window was high above the ground; but he could reach it by standing on his stool. Even that, however, was not of much use; for all view was cut off by a wooden screen, so arranged that the light only penetrated from above, and he had to twist his head considerably in order to catch the least glimpse of the sky.

Wolf remained in this cramped position as if fascinated, gazing upward, with his cheek against the cold stone of the wall. Grey clouds were passing over the tiny bit of sky visible to him. Occasionally the whole of the narrow space was filled in with a clear deep blue.

One of the panes of the window was open, admitting a breath of fresh pure air. It seemed to the prisoner that without this mouthful of free air he would not be able to breathe, and he pressed his face against the woodwork of the window as if suffocating.

Gradually it grew dark outside. The wind rose, and a few heavy drops of rain pattered on the boards of the screen. In the yard outside the trumpeter sounded the call to stable-duty. The poor fellow in the narrow cell remembered that this evening he should have rejoined the circle of his socialist comrades. Instead of which, here he was twisting his neck to see even a little bit of the sky, rather than the ghastly grey walls of his prison.

As the evening went on even that comfort failed. Everything was grey in the grey light around him.

As a gust of damp air blew in he once more drew a deep breath and got down from the stool.

Within the cell it was quite dark; but suddenly a square of light appeared in the door,--the little window through which the prisoner could be observed from without. The gas had been lit in the corridor, and the unsteady light of the unprotected, flickering jet penetrated the gloom of the cell.

At the same moment the corporal on guard appeared on the threshold. He brought with him the third of a loaf of bread, and he proceeded to let down the bed from the wall.

"Shall I shut the window?" he asked.

Wolf answered hastily, "No, no, sir."

The corporal nodded, looked round once more to see if everything was in order, and quitted the cell, turning the key twice in the lock.

The reservist heard him go along the passage to Findeisen's cell. Shortly after, the click of the spurs was again audible passing his door, and then everything was as still as before.

Wolf lay on the bed and munched hard lumps of bread, from time to time taking a drink of water. After that he fell into a soothing reverie, more and more forgetting his position, till at last he settled himself down comfortably on the hard wood, and fell fast asleep.

In the middle of the night he began to feel very cold. Instinctively he tried not to awake, as if even in sleep he knew how comfortless his surroundings were. He thrust his hands up his coat-sleeves and curled himself up on the bed; but at last the cold waked him completely.

More benumbing still than the frost of the autumn night was the consciousness of his misery. He shivered with cold, and yet could not rouse himself sufficiently to get up.

In the darkness of the night, the clear light of the hopes which had so heartened him grew pale. An unspeakable fear assailed him that he might be condemned to long years of imprisonment, and the darkness which engulfed him now seemed like a symbol of that terrible time,--an endless horror.

Through the window could be heard the monotonous pouring of the rain. The night wind was caught in the wooden screen, sent a damp breath into the cell, and swept on with a low moan.

In the intervals between these sounds, Wolf thought he could hear an indistinct scraping and scratching. From time to time it ceased, then began again. Could it be rats in the drain under the cell?

In the morning he started up suddenly. The key was thrust hastily into the lock, and the door opened violently. The corporal on guard appeared on the threshold.

"Is this one here, at any rate?" he cried.

The dawn only lighted the cell faintly; but he could make out the form of the prisoner, and gave a sigh of relief.

"Thank God!" he said. "I am spared that, anyhow. They aren't both gone."

He called a gunner in, and searched every corner with a lantern.

While he was on his knees lighting the space under the bed, the gunner whispered furtively to Wolf, "The other man has escaped."

At first the reservist did not understand. Escaped? How was that possible?

He looked round the cell, and was unable to imagine how any one could escape from such a place.

Suddenly he remembered the scratching and scraping in the night, and his eyes sought for some tool with which it might be possible to break a hole through a wall. He noticed the strong iron trestles which supported the bed when it was let down; it might perhaps be done with one of them. But no. Up by the window the thickness of the wall could be seen; it must be close on twenty inches.

And yet Findeisen had escaped!

Necessity had quickened the wits of the dull lad, and had made him inventive. When they confronted him with the corpse of the sergeant, he realised that he had committed a murder; and from that moment he felt his head no longer safe on his shoulders. The fear of death lent him a subtlety of which he would never otherwise have been capable.

He had, as Wolf guessed, used the iron bed support as an implement. He had at once recognised that it would be impossible to break through the principal external wall; the other walls, however, might be expected to be considerably less strong, and they sounded hollower when he tapped them. Findeisen knew that one of them merely divided his cell from another, and so was useless for his purpose. But beyond the other wall lay a shed in which the fire-engine was kept. Its window, he knew, was only covered with wire-netting, and opened on to a field.

And as soon as all was quiet in the guard-house he had set to work, listening anxiously in the direction of the corridor during the pauses of his boring and levering. The wall was only the length of a brick thick, and after the first stone had been broken out bit by bit, it cost but little labour to widen the hole enough to let a man pass.

The night sentinels declared that they had not remarked anything unusual. Besides, they had an excuse in the regulations; for in such pouring rain they were permitted to take shelter in the sentry-boxes. So it was not even known when the prisoner had escaped.

A warrant for his arrest was sent out, but in vain. Gunner Findeisen had disappeared.

Later during the same morning on which Findeisen, avoiding all frequented paths, had slipped away through undergrowth and thickets to the frontier, Wolf, a prisoner awaiting trial, was removed to the house of detention in the capital.

The train in which he and the soldier who guarded him travelled passed another at an intermediate station. Reservists were looking out of every carriage; men from every branch of the service were mixed together, and all were alike in the wildness of their spirits.

The two trains started again at the same moment, and the reservists began to sing:

Wolf kept his eyes fixed on the dusty floor of the compartment.

As the song died away in the distance, he lifted his head courageously. The bright light of day gave him new confidence. Looked at from a truly enlightened standpoint, and regarded fully and clearly, his act had indeed been of the most excusable kind.

Perhaps in six months he would be free again.

A week later, Gunner Heinrich Wilhelm Wolf, of the Sixth Battery, 80th Regiment, Eastern Division Field Artillery, was condemned by the military tribunal of the 42nd Division, for actual bodily assault on a superior officer, to three years' imprisonment.