And to-day he was to command the whole battery. Wegstetten took the precaution of accompanying the young man himself, so that he might be able to come to the rescue in case of necessity. He was soon needed. The battery started from the gun-park and left the camp, turning off the road and crossing the heather towards the broad level stretch of the exercise-ground. Suddenly Landsberg's snapping voice crowed out: "Battery, halt!" and immediately afterwards: "Open with shrapnel!" The men grinned at one another. Two or three of the gunners got down and stood there, quite at a loss. They ought to load; yet the word of command, "Prepare for action!" had not been given. And how could they load when the seats and the limber-boxes were still locked, and when the gun was still covered? The clever lieutenant had forgotten the word of command that should properly have been given before leaving the gun-park. And the best of it was that he didn't even now notice what was wrong. Wegstetten, close at hand, kept quite still. He had taken his feet out of the stirrups and was swinging his short legs carelessly to and fro. His eyes flashed scorn as he looked at the hapless lieutenant. "Well, Lieutenant Landsberg," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "if I were one of the men myself I shouldn't know what to do either." The lieutenant raised his spotlessly gloved hand to his helmet and replied, "Yes, sir." But as yet no solution of the riddle had dawned on him. Then at last the captain sat upright in his saddle, and his clear voice rang out over the battery: "Prepare for action!" It put life into the men at once, and all set about their various duties with the utmost zeal. Wegstetten turned to the subaltern, who stood stupidly looking on, and said, "Well, Lieutenant Landsberg, you may take over the command again now." Truchsess, the brewer, as No. 4 of gun six, brought out the shrapnel very gingerly. How easily such stuff as that might go off! The old hands had gruesome tales to tell of accidents that had happened during gun-practice. Once while being loaded, a gun had prematurely exploded backwards, making a great hole through gunner No. 3, right through his chest, a hole just the same size as the bore of the gun. As the corpse was being carried away afterwards the sun shone right through it; so that in the middle of the shadow cast by the body was a bright round spot exactly the same size and shape as the bore of a gun. The brewer could not help thinking of this as he very cautiously pushed the shrapnel into the bore. Klitzing, however, shoved it vigorously with the rammer, so that its metal casing clinked against the inside of the gun. "Now then, old fellow, easy on! The thing might go off!" whispered Truchsess. But Klitzing only smiled, and the brewer sullenly thought to himself, "Well, if that clerk has no use for his life, I have for mine, anyhow!"