Vogt stood thoughtfully beside the sentry-box. That was pretty bad discipline! At the same time the case was quite clear: if the bombardier reported the sentry, then the latter would naturally be punished, and severely too; but he would certainly revenge himself on the bombardier. Despite the buttons on his collar, the bombardier was not technically superior to the gunner; it would only bring about a quarrel, and in a fight it would certainly be the bombardier who would come off worst. It was quite the rule for the men to stick loyally together, and never expose a comrade if it could possibly be avoided. Vogt, however, considered that there was a limit to comradeship, and that the sentry ought to have been punished. For in such ways respect was lost for other still more important rules. And, finally, he congratulated himself on having nothing to do with the matter. This morning, for the first time for weeks, the memory of his home and the longing for it overwhelmed him. He thought of how at home in the early days of the year he and his father had finished preparing the fields for the spring cultivation. He remembered how the young sun, in those fresh morning hours, had seemed to caress the long-deserted wintry earth with his kindling rays; and the black soil turned up by the harrow had exhaled a refreshing odour as of incense offered by nature's maternal heart. The daily increasing heat of the sun, the milder air, and the grateful receptivity of earth: all betokened the end of idle winter and the beginning of a new year of fruitfulness, the gospel of labour and of blessing. The ardent forces of nature welled up also in the hearts of men; and though his father had seemed to him old in the short cold days of winter, the scent of spring-time always made him young again. He almost felt like a deserter not to be at home working. But no! the contrary was really the case. It was these thoughts that were disloyal. Was he not now a soldier, called to protect the soil of his beloved fatherland, if an enemy threatened it? If----? he reflected further. There had been peace for thirty years now, and it might quite well last thirty more, or even a hundred. Was not this, then, mere waste of time? But, on the other hand, there was nothing to prevent a war breaking out to-morrow. He knew that it was improbable, but not impossible. The devil! then of course war must be prevented. But how? His simple mind saw no solution of these contradictions. He gazed contemplatively at his sentry-box, and almost omitted to present arms to his captain, who was passing to the riding-school with the remount division.