atement the guard was implicating the Sergeant, who had
been so recently upbraiding him. To speak the truth, he was no lover
of the non-commissioned officer either; and in days gone by--not so
very long ago either--when he, too, had been of the non-commissioned
officers' ranks, and had enjoyed but little seniority over the
Sergeant, he had had occasion to complain of his bullying, of his
arrogance, and of his unpleasant gibes and innuendoes. It was an
opportunity then to be snatched at, both for the sake of himself and of
this somewhat ancient sentry, who, whatever he might be, however
stupid, was essentially harmless.

"So," he began, "that is as you say, my friend; it is not your duty to
enter any of the enclosures, but to march to and fro and to keep an eye
on the prisoners. It is for the sergeant in charge of each of the huts
to carry out his duties, and to detect any and every effort to escape.
Then who is the sergeant in charge of this place outside which we are
standing?"

There was silence amongst the group, a deathly silence, during which
the aged Landsturm sentry pulled himself up stiffly at attention, or
into the nearest approach to that position to which he could attain,
and smiled covertly in the direction of the sergeant who had browbeaten
him. Others of those somewhat senile guards, who at the sound of their
officer's voice had assumed that position of respect demanded of all
German soldiers, also cast swift glances in the same direction, and
even went so far--seeing that the snappy little officer's back was
turned and his attention otherwise engaged--as to grin quite openly,
and smirk, as they watched the flaming face of the Sergeant. As for
the latter, perspiration was pouring from beneath his helmet, the man's
hands were twitching, while his eyes were rolling in the most horrible
manner. He was cornered, he knew, and guessed thoroughly that the
opportunity thus discovered, thanks to the sentry and to his own
bullying manner, would be taken advantage of.

"Who, then, is the sergeant responsible?" asked the officer in cold,
unsympathetic tones, looking the unfortunate sergeant over from the
spike of his _Pickelhaube_ to the thick soles of his regulation boots.
"Surely not this sergeant? Surely not the non-commissioned officer
before me--the one so quick to find fault with a sentry who seems to
have been doing only his duty? Surely not!"

And yet a glance at his face showed well enough that he