The bombardier was waiting outside the door: he "thought the captain
was still in the orderly-room." That might be true, of course. He
didn't know where Kaeppchen was.

The sergeant-major knew where to look, and went straight to the
canteen. There indeed was Kaeppchen, just lighting a cigarette, after
wiping from his thin black beard the froth of a freshly-drawn glass of
beer.

Schumann would not make a fuss before the other non-commissioned
officers who were standing about, so only said: "Kaeppchen, you're
wanted in the orderly-room." Whereupon the corporal was off like a
shot, not even finishing his beer.

Wegstetten sauntered along the sandy road that led from the
riding-school to the barracks. Now and then he stopped to switch off
the dust scattered over him by the galloping hoofs. Now and then he
flung an oath or so at the riders, but on the whole he was contented
enough. It could not be gainsaid, Heppner was the man for him. Yes, the
battery was all right, and he, Wegstetten, would see to it that it
remained so. On every speech-making occasion when the chief held it up
as an example, he had rejoiced to see the envious faces with which the
commanders of the other batteries congratulated him.

Undoubtedly on this account he was given extra hard nuts to crack--such
as this case of Frielinghausen.

Baron Walter von Frielinghausen was a second-year student, expelled
from the gymnasium for repeated misdemeanours. His mother, a very poor
widow, had not the means to continue his education, neither was the
family ready to do so. They had therefore suggested that the young
scapegrace should be brought under strict soldierly discipline, with
the view to his eventually entering the Fire-Workers' Corps, and
perhaps being made an officer therein.

And it was the sixth battery that was selected as the scene of action
for this young man's talents! Wegstetten resolved to take all the
nonsense out of him, and to destroy any delusions the youth might have
as to his being in any way privileged.

But when Frielinghausen stood before him, an overgrown stripling, whose
somewhat angular limbs looked still more immature in the coarse,
ready-made uniform; and when he met a pair of anxious young eyes fixed
on him, his tone softened perceptibly. There occurred to him, too, the
consciousness of another bond: Frielinghausen, like himself, belonged
to the old Thuringian nobility--possibly even to an older family than
Wegstetten's