ther, the brave old sergeant, with his iron cross and his medal for
bravery.

Vogt did not prove to be particularly willing. Every plough in its
furrow, every mower deftly at work, awakened in him longings for his
old agricultural pursuits. He wore his uniform with a good grace; there
was no help for it, and grumbling would have only made the life harder.
But to stay on longer than necessary--for that he had no hankering.

Wegstetten knew how to tackle his men. He talked glibly to the gunner
about the honour and distinction to be won as a non-commissioned
officer, not forgetting to observe how much the father at home would
rejoice to see the son following in his footsteps.

Vogt asked his father's advice, and the turnpike-keeper wrote back:
"Jump at your captain's offer, my lad. As an old soldier, I am very
glad to think of my boy as a non-commissioned officer. Never mind about
me. The pleasure you give me will make me young and strong, so that I
shall be able to keep the place going till you come home again at
last."

So Vogt signed on for another year.

But directly he found himself committed he began to regret his
decision.

He had been very lonely in the battery since his comrade Klitzing's
death. He had not felt inclined to strike up a friendship with any one
else; none of them were quite his sort. Despite his good nature,
Truchsess was a lazy obtuse kind of fellow. Count Plettau, to be sure,
was different; for though one never quite knew whether he was in jest
or earnest, still one could have something like rational conversation
with him. And Plettau took a real interest in the sturdy peasant lad,
in whom he recognised an outlook on life so different from his own as
to fill him with constant amazement. He told Vogt about the peasants of
his own Westphalian home, who in many cases had lived on their land
from generation to generation, and knew no higher source of pride than
to call themselves peasant-farmers.

Then Vogt's eyes would brighten up. These men of the red mother-earth
were people after his own heart.

"Yes," he said, "so it should be everywhere in Germany:

Peasant farm by peasant farm,
Then shall none have hunger or harm!"

Vogt was grateful to the count for talking to him so sensibly and
kindly; but still things were totally changed: he could not find any
one to replace his faithful friend Klitzing. The poor fellow felt more
and more lonely every day.