When the two non-commissioned officers had lost all their money, Trautvetter had no objection to lending, and let them give him notes-of-hand, which at last amounted to very considerable sums.
He had not, indeed, any real intention of claiming repayment; but these I.O.U.'s were very useful weapons in his hand, and it was not long before the sergeant-major had to dance to his piping.
Every night when an inspection was not expected, Trautvetter and Heppner would slip out of barracks. As soon as the sentinel had gone round the corner, they would creep out of the window, and make off to a neighbouring tavern, where gambling and drinking went on into the early morning hours.
Heppner ground his teeth as he bowed beneath this uneasy yoke; but there was no help for him. He already owed Trautvetter more than a thousand marks; and the one-year volunteer now became less willing to lend, and caused the sergeant-major endless vexation and trouble. He would suddenly demand to be made corporal, or to be given a couple of weeks' leave: demands which it was quite impossible to grant. But if Heppner pointed this out to him, he would flourish the notes-of-hand under the sergeant-major's nose and threaten to lay them before Wegstetten.
Heppner could think of no other way of escape than the chance of a sudden stroke of luck. Of course, however, he needed money in order to go on playing. He himself had no more, and nobody would lend to him.
At last he fell back on the cash-box of the battery. From time to time he replaced a portion of what he had taken, but the deficit nevertheless became greater and greater.
One morning, in the beginning of August, Wegstetten said to him: "Sergeant Heppner, have the one-year volunteers paid their board-money?"
"Yes, sir."
"All right. Then get your cash-box ready for settling up accounts. I am just going over to headquarters, and you can have the money and the books for me when I return."
Heppner hardly had the strength to reply with the usual "Very good, sir."