The landlord of the Horse had laid the table neatly in the little parlour. The leavings of the previous evening had been freshly dished up, and the barrel, which must still contain nearly forty litres of beer, had been cooled with ice. But only one of the five banqueters was in the vein--Blechschmidt, sergeant-major of the fifth battery. He was still eating and drinking when the four others were already sitting at the half-cleared table playing cards. "Something moderate to begin with!" the master baker Kühn had suggested; so each one put down three marks. It was a long time before the last fifty-pfennig piece was played out of the pool; but Heppner triumphed. He had been right in his premonition; when he counted his money he had won nearly two marks. After this exertion the players took a little refreshment, and while eating talked the game over. Heppner swallowed his bread and meat eagerly, and the last plate had hardly been cleared before he began, his eyes twinkling craftily, "And what next, gentlemen?" The master baker laughed pleasantly and replied, "Well, as we've been lying low, we may afford to let ourselves go a bit now." Thereupon the landlord bolted the door and saw that the shutters were firmly closed. They drew closer together, and even Blechschmidt came nearer. The players bent over the table, their eyes followed the dealing of the cards with eagerness, their faces glowed. They lighted their fresh cigars on the stumps of the old ones, and when their throats became parched from excitement, they gulped down rapid draughts of the beer, which was gradually becoming flat and muddy as it flowed from the tap into the glasses. They had lost all thought of time. Suddenly Blechschmidt, the tireless toper, grumbled, "No, I shan't play with you any more. Beer's best." The landlord looked at the clock. "It is nearly five," he said. None of them could believe it; they thought they had not been playing above an hour at most. But late or early they must finish the game, and they all heaved deep breaths as the last round ended. While playing they had been quite unconscious of the terrible fatigue, which, now that they had stopped, utterly overpowered them. Now they had to calculate the gains and losses of the night. The trumpeter got through quickest. He tossed Heppner the borrowed thaler, and laughed contentedly to himself. He had every reason to be cheerful, he, who had not brought a single red pfennig with him, and who now had more than a hundred marks--chiefly in silver, but with a few gold pieces also--clinking in his pocket! The other four had all lost. The deputy sergeant-major was quite thirty marks poorer. He glanced darkly at the small sum which still lay before him. How stupid he had been! He had thrown away his luck with the thaler which he had lent Henke, that was quite certain. Now, instead of himself, this fop had hauled in the fat baker's money. That was the reward of his good nature!