m his saddle-bag, and gently moistened the gunner's
forehead with the spirit. He tried to force a drop between his lips,
but in vain; there was no sound or movement in response.

The sergeant-major looked impatiently for some sign of the doctor's
arrival. The other two wounded men seemed in less serious case. The
bombardier regained consciousness as the brandy touched his lips; he
took a good mouthful, and answered the sergeant-major's question as to
his condition with: "All right, sir. Only my left leg feels a bit
queer. I must have given it a wrench."

Vogt even tried to stand up and assume the regulation attitude in
speaking to the sergeant-major but he staggered back again, and said
faintly that his head was going round, otherwise there was nothing
wrong with him.

From the heights above was now heard the sound of horses' hoofs and the
clanking of harness. It was Corporal Vertler with the team belonging to
gun five; he announced that a trumpeter had gone to find a doctor, and
that the ambulance-orderlies would soon be here.

The sergeant-major had now no more time to bestow on the wounded men,
who could be left to wait for the doctor. He busied himself with the
harnessing of the gun.

Vogt leaned against the slope of the hill, resting his dizzy head in
his hands.

The blood trickled through his fingers and dropped upon his knees.
Although he tried to think it all over, he could not understand what
had happened to him. The horse had kicked him on the forehead--that
much he was able to recollect, and he also clearly remembered that
afterwards he had again seen the hoof coming in his direction; but from
that moment his memory was a blank.

Sliding and slipping, the hospital-orderly now came hurrying down the
hill. He saw that three men were lying there; two of them had their
eyes open, but not the third, so he addressed himself to the latter. He
gave him ether to smell, tried to administer a stimulant, and moistened
his forehead. He unfastened and opened his coat and shirt, and slapped
the palms of his hands. All in vain; but at least the poor devil still
breathed, though with a gurgling and rattling in his chest.

The orderly then turned to the two others. He gave Vogt a piece of
medicated cotton-wool to press on his wound, put the bottle of cordial
to his lips and made him drink. Vogt took a good mouthful; the liquid
tasted acid and refreshing, and cleared his head wonderfully.

Sickel declined the draught