"Indeed!" said the officer in charge. "Is he badly hurt?" "No, sir," answered Vogt. "Then off to bed!" Vogt and Klitzing were the last to leave Room IX. Klitzing went silently along by his wounded comrade and looked at him timidly. "Does it hurt, Franz?" he asked on the stairs. Vogt began hesitatingly: "Well, you know----" but then when he saw his friend's sad eyes he continued: "Oh, no; it's not a bit bad." Tears stood in the clerk's eyes. "Franz, what a dear good fellow you are!" he said softly. "I don't know how I can thank you; but never doubt that I _shall_ thank you some time." In the bedroom Listing whispered to him that the "old gang" would beware of beginning it again. Wolf had told them that he should at once report them if they did, and he was known to keep his word in such matters. When the two friends were in bed, the tall man came round to their corner. "How are you?" he asked Vogt. "All right, thanks," he answered. "Glad to hear it." He stretched out his hand to the recruit, and the two men exchanged a hearty grip. CHAPTER V "So pass the bottle about, hurrah! Gaily sing and shout, hurrah! Jolly artillerymen are we!" (_Artillery song._) Sergeant Schumann looked once more round the two rooms and the kitchen; no, nothing had been left behind. Only his overcoat and hat hung on the window-bolt, and his stick stood in the corner. The civilian clothes did not please him at all. Every other minute his hand was up at his neck, feeling for a collar-band which seemed to be much too loose, but which, in reality, was not there at all. His wife came in, busy as ever, in her hat and cloak, a little leather bag and an umbrella in her hand. She was to start at noon for the little mountain railway-station, where she would get the house ready for the furniture, which should arrive during the day. The sergeant-major, or rather the station-master's assistant, had some money matters to settle in the garrison town, and would not follow her until the next morning. Frau Schumann was quite out of breath. Those stupid gunners had been so disagreeable when she wished to have her flowers put in the furniture van. She began excitedly: "Thank God, Schumann, the van is ready. Here are the keys. It's quite time for me to go to the station, isn't it?" Schumann looked at his watch and growled: "Certainly, quite!" "Then I'll be off," said the little woman. But she remained standing in the middle of the room, seemingly unable to tear herself away. "Dear, dear!" she said, "for years I have wished to leave this place, and now that we are really going I feel quite sad; don't you, Schumann?"