Outside in the court-yard, in front of the quarters of another battery, some recruits who had arrived still earlier were standing, looking hungrily towards the kitchen. "We've come off better than they," remarked Weise. "Things are going well with us, it seems." Now again they had to go outside, and the reading over of names began once more. This time the standing-orders were given out, and during this performance their captain came into the barrack-yard. He dismounted, and walked up and down, sometimes behind and sometimes in front of the recruits, occasionally standing still and examining a man with special attention. It felt very uncomfortable if the little captain paused too long behind one; but--so much they had learned already--it would not do to turn round. It was a considerable time before the last standing-order was given out, after which the sergeant-major desired those who wished to attend to the horses and to be drivers to stand on one side, and those who wanted to be gunners to take up their position on the other. Vogt and his new friend Weise placed themselves with the gunners, Vogt in this acting after his father's advice. "Youngster," the old man had said, "first and foremost be a good gunner. Then if you want to go on serving and become a corporal, you will get on faster than you would otherwise. You will know your gun and will only have to learn to ride." Vogt began now to long for the end of all this. He felt tired in every limb, and would never have believed that waiting and standing about could take it out of one to such an extent. But what had gone before was child's play compared with the tiresome business of getting fitted with a uniform, which now began. Vogt himself came off rather well: the trousers, measured according to the length of the outstretched arm, fitted exactly, as did also the second coat he tried on; the leather belt with sword attached he buckled on at once, and cap and helmet were soon forthcoming, but he had to put on several pairs of boots before he found the right ones. Then the corporal tossed him over a drill suit as well, and he was ready. But with some of the men nothing would fit. The tallest of all found the sleeves reaching just below his elbows, and when he tried the next size, the coat hung in folds across his chest. Others had square heads on which the round helmets rocked about, until they were jammed on by two or three good blows of the fist. One sturdy, thick-set, big-bellied fellow it seemed impossible to suit; everything was far too tight for him. "What have you been hitherto?" asked one of the non-commissioned officers. "A brewer," answered the fat man. "Did you drink all your beer yourself, then, eh?" inquired the other; and the man who gave out the clothing flung over a fresh suit, saying, threateningly: "Well, if that doesn't fit, by God! you shall drill in your drawers!"