te in the
stables?"

The sergeant-major answered slowly: "In his work, and as far as the
horses are concerned--oh, yes."

"But----?"

Schumann shrugged his shoulders again.

The captain began to be angry. "Good God, man! so----"
but he swallowed the sentence and continued more mildly: "Look here,
Schumann. I'm not asking you for any gossip about your comrades; I only
speak in the interest of the service. What is all this about Heppner?
Is it that story about his wife and his sister-in-law?"

"No, sir, that's his private affair. But he won't do for the office, or
to--to assist in money matters."

"But why?"

"He gambles, sir."

Wegstetten walked up and down the room for a few moments, plunged in
thought; then came to a stand in front of the sergeant-major.

"Thank you for being so open with me, Schumann," he said; "but I don't
see how we can avoid it. Heppner has served eleven years, the colonel
likes him well enough,--and he really is a capable man in all practical
work."

He looked at the clock and went on: "Thank goodness, you will be here
another six months, and we shall be able to get this year's recruits
well started. Now it's half-past ten, and I must be off to the
riding-school. What else was there? Oh yes, Frielinghausen. Have him
here at eleven." And with a friendly "Good morning, Schumann," he left
the room.

Schumann sat down again to his writing; but he did not take up the pen.
What his captain had said about "desertion" kept running in his head.
He himself sometimes had the feeling that it would be wrong of him to
quit the service. Especially now, when these new-fangled ways made men
of the good old stamp all the more necessary.

He had worked his way upwards through long years of service, only
getting promotion by slow degrees; and eight years ago he had been made
sergeant-major, Wegstetten getting his battery on the self-same day.
Nowadays any young fool of a gunner might be made bombardier in a year,
in another six months corporal, and then be set to teach others. Raw,
empty-headed fellows that only thought of their own comfort, and
disappeared from barracks the moment their time of service had expired,
without leaving a trace behind. Chaps without the least pride or
interest in the service;--nice sort of non-commissioned officers!

He looked round. Just so; Kaeppchen was still away. Where was that lazy
beggar? and where was the bombardier? He shut up his book and went off
on the hunt.