bolted the door, removed all traces of the carousal, uncovered the windows, put out the lights and slipped into bed as if they had been asleep for hours. In the meantime the two sentries marched up and down in the gleam of the corridor-lamp, their rifles on their shoulders, and looked about them with bold glances. Spoerri, filled with bliss because he had been able to get drunk at no expense, grew quite reckless and suddenly began to sing, and that hastened the steps of the officer on duty who was already on the way. As he approached they tried to slip quickly into the room; but they couldn't open the door and before they could think of anything else to do the enemy was upon them. Now everything whirled through their heads in a mad dance. In their confusion each placed himself at his post, presented arms and cried, "Who goes there?" "In the name of all that's holy, what does this mean? What are you doing there?" cried the officer on duty, but without receiving a sufficient answer, for the two clowns could not get out a sensible word. The officer quickly opened the door and looked into the room, for Karl who had been straining his ears, had hopped hastily out of bed, pushed back the bolt and as hastily hopped in again. When the officer saw that everything was dark and quiet and heard nothing but puffing and snoring, he cried, "Hallo there, men!" "Go to the devil!" cried Karl, "and get to bed, you drunkards!" The others also pretended that they had been wakened and cried, "Aren't those beasts in bed yet? Turn them out, call the guard!" "He's here, I'm he," said the officer, "one of you light a light, quick." This was done, and when the light fell on the two buffoons peals of laughter came from under all the bedclothes as if the entire company were taken utterly by surprise. Ruckstuhl and Spoerri joined crazily in the laughter and marched up and down holding their sides, for their minds had now taken a tack in a different direction. Ruckstuhl repeatedly snapped his fingers in the officer's face and Spoerri stuck out his tongue at him. When the derided officer saw that there was nothing to be done with the joyful pair, he took out his pad and wrote down their names. Now, as ill-luck would have it, he happened to live in one of Ruckstuhl's houses and had not yet paid the rent--due at Easter which was just over--it might be because he was not in funds or because he had been too busy while on military duty to attend to it. In any case, Ruckstuhl's evil genius suddenly hit on this fact and, reeling towards the officer, he laughed foolishly and stuttered, "P-pay your d-debts fir-firsht, m-mister, before you t-ta-take down peo-people's namesh. You know!" Spoerri laughed still louder, lurched and staggered back like a crab and, shaking his head, piped shrilly, "P-p-pay your d-debts, mister, that-tha-that is well s-said."