spot, whence they could look out over the river to the castle
in the neighbouring town. There they lay in the grass.

The peasant felt impelled to get up every now and then. He was
restless; he felt that he must keep looking at the fields that lay
around them. But the clerk lay quite still in the short grass, and with
blinking half-closed eyes gazed up into the summer sky.

CHAPTER VIII

[Illustration: Reveille]

Baron Walther von Frielinghausen was made bombardier on July 1st.

He had now got his foot on the ladder of military distinction, but he
felt no special elation at the fact. What signified this little piece
of promotion in a career which had now no attraction for him?

Wegstetten had arranged that he should at once begin doing some of the
work of a corporal; but this, too, had its inconvenient side. When
merely a gunner he had always imagined that he knew better than those
uneducated fellows the non-coms.; and he had occasionally looked
forward to the moment when he would be put in authority, and would be
able to show off some of his knowledge. But now to command had become
more difficult than to obey, and there was certainly just as much blame
going. One was scolded as if one were a silly boy, and the men always
took notice of the fact.

Only one thing caused him pleasant anticipations: he would have riding
lessons. But this, too, proved unlike his expectations. Heppner, after
his fashion, kept him hard at it. Like every recruit, he had to begin
with riding bareback; then after a time came the more difficult task of
balancing on the slippery saddle without stirrups; and only after
considerable practice would the sergeant-major occasionally allow him
to let the stirrups down. There were days on which he had more than
twenty falls from his horse; and at last it was always in fear and
trembling that he went to riding instruction. Whenever his horse dashed
away riderless after a jump, Frielinghausen rejoiced in the few
minutes' respite that shortened by that much the hour of his lesson. He
could never manage to go over a hurdle with his hands placed on his
hips; at every jump they snatched at the horse's mane. Heppner raged
over this cowardice; but storm and shout as he would, Frielinghausen's
hands were for ever clutching at his only means of safety.

At last the sergeant-major left the long-limbed youth alone in his
incompetence. He had an impression that Wegstet