“That’s the truth of it,” came from a corporal standing near. “I saw and overheard the whole transaction, colonel.”
By this time Jerry was coming to his senses. He blinked his eyes, and, sitting up, stared around him.
“Keep off!” he muttered. “Don’t hit me again!”
“You’re all right now,” said the lieutenant-colonel. “I am sorry to see you having a row with one of our men, though.”
“He started the row,” answered Nickerson, bound to save himself from trouble, if possible.
“It isn’t so,” came from several in the crowd. “He struck the first blow, just as Stummer says.”
“But he knocked me down first, and he did it on purpose.”
“Dot ain’t so. I vos coming der stairs town, ven I slip, because der poat vos so unsteady,” explained Carl; and then he went into the details of the encounter from start to finish. Several times Jerry Nickerson tried to interrupt him, but the lieutenant-colonel would not allow it. Carl’s story was corroborated by several others besides the corporal who had first spoken up.
“It seems you are to blame,” said the lieutenant-colonel, after listening to Nickerson’s lame recital. “In the future I think you had better leave our soldiers alone. And now I want this crowd to disperse,” he concluded, with a wave of his hand.
The soldiers sauntered off, alone and in pairs; and Carl went with them. Nickerson said nothing more, but his black looks bode the German regular no good.