Once more he listened to the breathing, then stood up. According to his diagnosis the injured man had but a few hours to live, at the most--perhaps even only minutes.

"Has he recovered consciousness at all?" he asked.

"Yes, sir; but only for a very short time."

The doctor shrugged his shoulders.

"But what's wrong with you?" he said, turning to the bombardier.

"My leg's rather queer, sir. Old Turk fell on it, and it's sprained, I suppose. But I expect you can soon put it right, sir."

Rademacher removed the driver's riding-trousers with the aid of the hospital-orderly.

His examination was soon over.

"You have a double fracture of the thigh," he said. "But we'll soon set it for you."

Sickel listened open-mouthed.

"Then I shall be ready to leave when I get my discharge?" he inquired.

The medical officer smiled. "No, my friend, it will take from four to six weeks."

This was too much for the driver, and he grumbled loudly. He would cheerfully have been more hurt, although, as it was, he had had a narrow shave--but not to be able to get his discharge--it was hard lines indeed!

Meanwhile the ambulance-orderly had put a bandage round Vogt's head.

Rademacher gazed thoughtfully down on Klitzing. At last he turned away; it was a hopeless case. He sent the trumpeter, who had come with him for an ambulance-waggon. He had seen one standing in the road not far off.

Restlessly he walked up and down, trying to shorten the time of waiting. Every time he pa.s.sed the clerk he looked at the lips through which still came that heavy breathing. It was a perfect marvel that the man still lived. Three ribs were broken, and they had wounded the lung so severely that a violent haemorrhage had ensued.

Four stretcher-bearers came down the hill at last, carrying two stretchers. Klitzing was first placed on one of them.

"Where is he to go?" asked the foremost stretcher-bearer. Rademacher considered a moment, and then answered:

"Up yonder, right on the brow of the hill, there's a farm, manor-house, or something of the sort. Take him there. On my responsibility."

The stretcher-bearers set out, Vogt joining them. The doctor had nodded a.s.sent to his beseeching glance.

Sickel was just going to be carried away when two veterinary surgeons arrived to look after the injured horses.

"Beg pardon, sir," said the driver, "but I should like so much to know what's wrong with my beast."

Rademacher told the stretcher-bearers to wait. The case of the horse was diagnosed as quickly as that of the rider. The vet. raised himself and said to his colleague: "The off hind-pastern is fractured."

"Can anything be done?" asked the driver.

The other shrugged his shoulders: "No, it's all up with him," he said.

Sickel looked across at the Turk. "Poor old fellow!" he muttered to himself. Then he made them carry him up to the bay's head, and gently took hold of the tuft of hair on his forehead, caressing him. Turk raised himself with difficulty, and rubbed his nose against his driver's leg. Then the bombardier turned himself impatiently on to the other side, and cried to the stretcher-bearers to make haste. "Now get me away quickly!" Turk gazed after the stretcher with his large, mournful eyes, and as it disappeared behind the edge of the declivity he snorted piteously.

Soon after the hollow was just as peaceful and deserted as it had been early that morning, with blackbirds building their nests in the wild luxuriance of the beech-trees. But the gra.s.s and the bushes were trampled down everywhere; the spot looked like the scene of a fight, and in the middle of the battle-field lay the carcase of poor Turk.

Late that evening some soldiers came with lifting apparatus and took the ponderous dead beast to the nearest knacker's yard.

When Vogt and the stretcher-bearers had climbed to the top of the hill and saw the building to which the doctor had directed them, they stopped short. Dr. Rademacher had spoken of a manor-house or farm; but what they saw before them looked more like a castle. However, as there was not another roof to be seen near or far, they could not be making any mistake.

The stretcher-bearers looked through a gate surmounted by a count's coronet, and saw the front door of the building. Not a sign of life was anywhere visible. Vogt pulled the bell; but a considerable time elapsed before there was any movement on the other side of the grating. Just as he was about to ring a second time, a white-haired old woman appeared on the threshold of the door at the top of the front steps. She was dressed like any other old peasant woman of the neighbourhood. She walked slowly to the gate along the paved pathway, a bunch of keys in her hand.

One of the soldiers addressed her:

"Tell us, please, can you give this man here a bed, and let us have one for another as well? They have both met with an accident, and for the present cannot be moved any further."

The old woman looked at the unconscious corpse-like form on the stretcher for a time without speaking, then said, in a tranquil voice:

"Oh, yes, there is room enough here."

She unlocked the gate, and let Vogt and the stretcher-bearers in.

"Where is the other?" she then asked; and the soldier answered: "He will soon follow."

The woman nodded silently. She locked the gate behind them, and then turned towards a wing of the building. The stretcher-bearer, walking close behind her, whispered: "This one won't be a burden to you long.

The end must soon come." Again the old woman gazed thoughtfully at the face that looked so deathly pale on the grey linen cushion of the stretcher. She hesitated; then all at once she turned right round and went up the front steps of the main building. "We can find him a bed here," she murmured. The three soldiers stepped into a lofty hall. A softened, mellow light from without fell through a stained-gla.s.s window, and the floor was paved with shining tiles, on which the soldiers' nail-studded boots clattered discordantly. Vogt and the other two men opened their eyes in wonder; but the woman went on further, threw wide open two high folding-doors, and ushered them into a s.p.a.cious room. "I will bring sheets," she said, and did not herself enter.

The stretcher-bearers put down their burden and gave a deep breath, gazing round them in surprise. The room was square. The bright daylight streamed in through two windows that reached to the ceiling. The floor was beautifully inlaid with wood of different colours, and carved oak panelling covered the walls. Against a side wall stood a broad, low bed, over which a faded quilted silk coverlet was spread, and there was a carved wooden canopy fixed to the wall above, from which curtains had formerly hung. The design of the wood-work was surmounted by a royal crown.

The old woman soon returned with a pair of fine snow-white linen sheets.

"He's to go in there?" asked the soldier, pointing to this bed of state. She a.s.sented with a nod of the head, and made haste to prepare the bed, which she had ready in a few moments.

The loud, clear sound of the bell was heard once more. "That's the other one," said the soldier; and the woman left the room with her quiet, shuffling steps.

The two stretcher-bearers now began to undress Klitzing with their practised hands, and the clerk was soon lying beneath the silken coverlet, the royal crown over his head. Then one of the men asked: "What shall we do now?" and the other answered: "Well, we'd better go back to the ambulance waggon, anyhow. The doctor will have arrived by this time. You can stop here," he said to Vogt, and they left the two friends alone.

Vogt had been standing still in the middle of the room, his head feeling quite clear again; but suddenly once more all became dark before his eyes, and he had to sit down on one of the huge armchairs that stood against the wall. Was this not all a bad dream? There on the white pillow lay Klitzing, still unconscious, looking more dead than alive. Vogt went and knelt down beside him, and pressed his hot face against the cool silk of the coverlet. Would his faithful friend never wake again, not even for a moment, so that he might thank him? But Klitzing's eyelids remained closed, and there was no movement of the body, only the rapid, stertorous breathing.

The shrill sound of the bell broke the silence for the third time, and immediately after the senior staff-surgeon, Andreae, entered the room, followed by Dr. Rademacher and a hospital orderly. He gave a rapid glance of surprise at the unusual surroundings, and went at once to the bed.

Vogt had risen at his entrance. Andreae nodded to him, and pointing to Klitzing, asked: "Has he never recovered consciousness?"

"No, sir."

The medical-officer then bent his head to the injured man's chest, and listened to his breathing for some time. Finally he felt his pulse. The hand fell back as if lifeless upon the coverlet.

"Unfortunately you are right," he said to Rademacher; and as the other looked questioningly at him he added, shrugging his shoulders, "Nothing can be done."

So saying he went up to Vogt, and laid his hand kindly upon the young man's arm: "Dr. Rademacher has told me," he said, "how the poor fellow sacrificed himself for your sake. It grieves me very much to have to say it, but I cannot hide the truth from you. Your friend has indeed given his life for yours; he has but a short time to live."

Vogt remained fixed in the stiff soldierly att.i.tude he had a.s.sumed; otherwise he felt he would have fallen to the ground. "Then, sir," he stammered, "will he never wake up again?"