Meanwhile the fire continued its ravages, and the sound of musketry thundered at the gates. Anton looked carelessly at the burning fragments which the wind drove over the unhappy town, and heard, with a faint degree of surprise, that the noise of the firing grew louder and louder, and at last became a deafening crash; all the sounds that struck his ear from the street appearing to him as unimportant as the ringing of a little early church-bell which he had often heard from his own room in the principal's house, and which never disturbed any one out of his morning repose. The whole night through he kept mechanically wetting and applying cold-water poultices to the patient's arm, and rising whenever the latter groaned or turned; but when, toward morning, the merchant fell into a sounder sleep, Anton forgot his task, his head fell heavy upon his hands outstretched on the table, he neither saw nor heard; and amid the screams of the wounded, and the thundering of cannon which attended the taking of a stoutly-defended town, amid all the horrors of a bloody conflict, he slept like a tired boy over his school-task. When he awoke, after the lapse of a few hours, it had long been morning. The merchant smiled kindly at him from his bed, and reached out his hand. Anton pressed it with all his heart, and hurried to the window. "They are all right," said he. He then opened the door; the guard of the previous night had vanished; and on the street he heard the beat of drums, and the regular tramp of regiments marching in. CHAPTER XXI. "We gave you up for lost," cried the newly-arrived captain to Mr. Schroeter. "They manage inns wretchedly here, and all my inquiries after you proved fruitless. It was a fortunate thing that your letter found me out in this confusion." "We have accomplished our purpose," said the merchant, "but not, as you see, without drawbacks;" and he pointed, smiling, to his wounded arm. "First and foremost, let me hear your adventures," said the captain, sitting down by the bedside. "You have more tokens of the fight to show than I." The merchant told his story. He dwelt warmly upon Anton's courage, to which he ascribed his safety, and ended by saying, "My wound does not prevent my traveling, and my return is imperative. I shall go with the wagons as far as the frontier." "Early to-morrow morning one of our companies returns to the frontier; you can send your wagons under its escort; besides which, the high roads are now safe. To-morrow the mails begin to run again." "I must still further request your assistance. I am anxious to write home by a courier this very day." "I will take care," promised the captain, "that your return to-morrow shall meet with no impediments."