ian life, nursed himself so
well as to have acquired a regular paunch, so that the quartermaster
had been unable to fit him with any of the uniforms, and the man, put
into a soiled canvas suit, had been permanently assigned to stable
duty. The third of this interesting trio was something of an idiot,
hailing from the Polish districts. He grinned like a maniac, and he
was entirely unfit for drill or any other kind of service that
required even the faintest degree of intelligence; but, having been
laborer with a Polish peasant, he knew how to handle horses and to
clean the stable. He addressed, in his broken German, everybody,
including the officers, as "Thou," and doffed his cap in token of
military salute.

The foddermaster felt frightened when he became aware that feeding
time was already considerably past, for he regarded the horses under
his care with great affection. He therefore called up the stable
guards and hurried them with a "Quick, now, you lazybones!" The fodder
wagon was loaded with oats and chopped straw and then pushed into the
main aisle of the stable. The creaking of this vehicle was for the
horses the most joyful music every day. As soon as the sound struck
their ears they became lively, raised their heads, craned their necks,
and turned around, as far as their halters would permit, to watch the
operation. They evidently had thought themselves forgotten to-night,
and there was a keen edge to their appetites, so that some of them
became a little unruly, kicking, neighing, and nipping at their
neighbors out of sheer sportiveness. "Napoleon," the ancient stallion,
had been devoured by such an acute sensation of hunger that as soon as
the fat guard aforementioned came near him with the measure he tore it
out of the man's hands and gave him such a push against his paunch
that the guard dropped the oats and, pressing both hands against the
injured part, ran out into the aisle.

Roth, watching things, saw this incident, and shouted to him:

"Go on, you lazy lubber, pick the stuff up again! Your fat carcass
won't be damaged by such a little blow!"

The fat individual, however, made no move to obey, but continued to
hold his paunch, while tears of pain stood in his eyes, and his face
assumed a livid hue. Roth strode up to him and began to belabor him
with both fists, showering hard blows on neck and head. Then,
grasping him by the throat, Roth turned the man's head around and
administered such a well-aimed