k him, and promise to go on doing their duty. They only did
not know how. At length Vogt plucked up courage and stammered a few
words.

Captain von Wegstetten listened kindly. He had soon perceived that he
had to do with two worthy, honest lads; and, with his own ends in view,
he proceeded to inquire in a condescending way about their homes. When
it then came out that the one had invited the other to stay with him,
he praised them for their faithful comrade-ship, and took the first
opportunity of relating this instance of the fraternising of town and
country to the colonel, who liked such proofs of an individual interest
being taken in the soldiers.

The first Saturday in July was a day of excitement for the
turnpike-keeper, Friedrich August Vogt. He was rather annoyed with
himself for losing his usual calm. Why? because his son--his only
son--was coming home for the first time? Really, that was not such an
event as to put him beside himself in this way! And then next he blamed
himself for having thought it unbefitting an old soldier, and too
soft-hearted altogether, to go and fetch his son from the station. He
could not remain in the house, so he went to a spot on the highway
whence he could watch the railway. He could see the train coming in,
and the clouds of white smoke from the engine rising up from behind the
station; then he heard the whistle--but still nothing was to be seen of
the two holiday-makers. Could Franz be stopping to have a glass of
beer? No; now the two men could be seen emerging from the village on to
the broad high-road, their helmets and uniform buttons glistening in
the sun--it must be they! The turnpike-keeper drew back a little, so
that he was out of sight. Why should the boy know that he had been
staring the eyes out of his head in order to catch the first glimpse of
him?

When Vogt and Klitzing arrived at the house he looked out of the window
as if quite by chance. "Ah, here you are!" and with a hearty grip of
the hand he bade them both welcome.

But it was no use fighting against it, he could not take his eyes off
his son. What a well set-up, vigorous young fellow his Franz had grown!
Yet he was still the same good honest lad; that was written in his
face.

And Franz's friend, with his frank open countenance, inspired
confidence at once. He looked, to be sure, as if he had never in his
life had enough to eat. He must be properly fed up for once. While he
was on leave, at any rate, h