had slipped up a little, so that the word "Fraternity" could
be distinctly seen.

Surely there was some inconsistency here! But then Vogt reflected: how
could Weise help the hypocrisy? If he had objected to taking the oath,
he would simply have been imprisoned. Weise's swearing falsely was
practically on compulsion; he was in the same case with Findeisen and
all the others.

At Christmas the greater number of the "old gang" went on leave. For
those who remained behind there was a tree in the large Room VII., with
something on it for every one; a penknife, a cigarette holder, or a
wooden pipe, together with a few cigars; but Listing, who could not
even yet be got to wash himself properly, received a large piece of
soap with his cigars. At the same time a big barrel of lager-beer was
broached.

But before the battery Christmas-tree most of the men had had a
special rejoicing of their own. The orderly had had the precaution to
take a small hand-cart with him to the post-office, and had brought
it back full of boxes and packages. Then the men stood round the
sergeant-major, and each one pricked up his ears to hear whether there
was anything for him.

Klitzing had moved aside, he had nothing to expect. Suddenly his name
was called. There was a small box for him, and it was not very light
either when he took it in his hand. He thought it must be a mistake,
but there were his name and address sure enough: "Gunner Heinrich
Klitzing, 6th Battery, 80th Regiment, Eastern Division, Field
Artillery." He looked at the label, the sender was Friedrich August
Vogt; and on the back was written, "To my boy's best friend, for
Christmas!"

The clerk went to Room IX. and showed the label to Vogt, who was
already unpacking his parcel. Klitzing could say nothing; he could only
press his friend's hand, while tears stood in his eyes.

But Vogt shouted cheerfully: "I say! the old man has done finely! Let's
see what else there is."

And when they compared their gifts--sausages, Christmas fare, and warm
woollen underclothing--it looked almost as though his father had given
more presents to his friend than to himself. At the bottom he found a
letter from the old man:

"My Dear Boy,--Herewith are a few trifles for you for Christmas. I
think I shall have done as you would wish by sending half of what I
intended for you to your friend and comrade, Klitzing, of whom you are
always writing to me. You know I was an orphan myself, and I can