Part 14 (1/2)

Suddenly he stopped in astonishment, thinking he must be mistaken. But no, Wolf was there too--Wolf, the social-democrat, whose whole existence as a soldier was a cynical mask, the revolutionist who was only waiting for the moment when, free from the green uniform, he might preach his faith again! And he, Schumann, had never been at any pains to conceal what he thought of such disgraceful opinions.

Wolf had not exactly run up, but had come with the rake over his shoulder with which he had been raking the riding-ground, and was at any rate a.s.sociating himself with the others.

”What, you too, Wolf?” Schumann involuntarily exclaimed.

”Yes, sir,” answered the soldier. ”You never were hard on any-one. You were always just.”

Schumann was just a little bit shamefaced at this obviously sincere praise. Generally speaking, he had honestly tried to deserve it; but with regard to this social-democrat, he knew quite well he had many times been lacking in justice. He remembered how often, when Wolf's turn came, he had ordered him to perform some specially unpleasant work.

Embarra.s.sed and hesitating, he replied: ”Well, well, and you have always been a good soldier yourself, at any rate in externals. Only that you--well, there was no getting at you there!”

It was a good thing that after Wolf others came up to grasp his hand in farewell; or else, notwithstanding order, watch, and sabre, he would have left the barracks with a bad conscience.

The last, who kept on moving further down in order to be the very last to say good bye, was Niederlein, a smart little gunner, who had polished his accoutrements for him during the last year.

The sergeant-major pressed his hand with special heartiness, and breathed freely: Thank G.o.d, Niederlein made up for Wolf! Once when ill, and left alone in the dormitory, Niederlein had broken open a locker and appropriated a piece of sausage therefrom. Schumann had caught him red-handed. Thieving from a comrade was a serious offence, entailing severe punishment and public disgrace; but Schumann knew Niederlein was only thoughtless and greedy, and it had been more a stupid prank than a crime, for the money which lay near the sausage was untouched. So he had held the boy across the table and given him five-and-twenty strokes with his leather belt. He was not quite clear in his mind whether this had been entirely in order--it might have been technically an a.s.sault; at any rate it turned out right. Niederlein was now about the best soldier in the whole battery, and would have, gone through fire and water for the sergeant-major.

The lad watched awhile how Schumann went slowly out through the back gateway and disappeared into the little wood. Then he hurried off to his quarters, for the battery was collecting for foot-drill.

Schumann had purposely chosen to go to the town by the lonely way through the wood, because if he had gone by the high road he would have met the battery officers again. That would have meant another delay; and then besides he felt he belonged far more to the men than to the officers, despite his double stripes.

He paused on the hill and gazed at the well-known landscape beneath him, where in the foreground lay the great drill-ground at his feet.

With his sharp eyes he could even recognise individual men. The fourth battery had just brought its six guns up to the gate; the fifth had not stirred as yet--Captain Mohr was not fond of duty so soon after dinner; and now his own battery, the sixth, arrived on the ground to perform foot-drill. The ornaments on the helmets s.h.i.+mmered in the sun, and he almost fancied he could hear the even tread. Wegstetten and the two lieutenants were behind.

The drill began, and the breaking up into files, the deployment, and finally the parade-march, first in file and then in battery column--all went splendidly. It was a joy to look down upon the smart, well-ordered straight lines as they moved. Instead of himself, Heppner marched in the sergeant-major's place, and Keyser, as the senior non-commissioned officer present, led the file of drivers instead of the deputy sergeant-major.

All was thoroughly well done, there was not a hitch anywhere.

And he, Schumann, had believed that he was indispensable, he had thought things could not go on without him!

At supper Julie Heppner said to her husband: ”Otto, the money you give us for housekeeping isn't enough. Ida couldn't pay the milkman to-day.”

”No affair of mine,” replied the deputy sergeant-major, with his mouth full. ”You must manage things better.”

When he had finished eating he put his coat on, buckled on his sabre and put on his forage cap.

His wife watched him from the sofa with angry eyes as he brushed his heavy beard and put on his gloves.

Heppner looked her straight in the face, laughed scornfully and said: ”Yes, you are thinking again: 'Now he is going to the public-house and will spend all the bit of money!' Well, as it happens, it's not so this time. But you had better believe it all the same, and make yourself really angry.”

This perpetual lack of money was, however, no joke to the sister-in-law either, as she was always having to put off and conciliate the creditors, and she joined in angrily: ”It's the truth! You squander the money and we have to manage as best we can.”

Heppner went round behind her and mockingly retorted: ”So you're beginning to scold like your dear sister? It seems to be catching. But I'll tell you how it is: there was a good lot of the farewell beer left over yesterday, and I saved it up for myself. Now, who's right?”

He tapped his sister-in-law's round shoulder playfully, and added: ”Who knows? Perhaps to-morrow I may give you quite a lot of money.”

With that he left the house.

He was in a good temper. It had long been a grievance to him that Schumann--grumbling old plodder!--instead of packing up his few sticks and being drafted into the civil service, should have remained so long stuck fast to the battery, thus preventing his own promotion. Now at last the old man had disappeared, and he was certain of becoming sergeant-major.