Vogt even tried to stand up and assume the regulation attitude in speaking to the sergeant-major but he staggered back again, and said faintly that his head was going round, otherwise there was nothing wrong with him.
From the heights above was now heard the sound of horses' hoofs and the clanking of harness. It was Corporal Vertler with the team belonging to gun five; he announced that a trumpeter had gone to find a doctor, and that the ambulance-orderlies would soon be here.
The sergeant-major had now no more time to bestow on the wounded men, who could be left to wait for the doctor. He busied himself with the harnessing of the gun.
Vogt leaned against the slope of the hill, resting his dizzy head in his hands.
The blood trickled through his fingers and dropped upon his knees. Although he tried to think it all over, he could not understand what had happened to him. The horse had kicked him on the forehead--that much he was able to recollect, and he also clearly remembered that afterwards he had again seen the hoof coming in his direction; but from that moment his memory was a blank.
Sliding and slipping, the hospital-orderly now came hurrying down the hill. He saw that three men were lying there; two of them had their eyes open, but not the third, so he addressed himself to the latter. He gave him ether to smell, tried to administer a stimulant, and moistened his forehead. He unfastened and opened his coat and shirt, and slapped the palms of his hands. All in vain; but at least the poor devil still breathed, though with a gurgling and rattling in his chest.
The orderly then turned to the two others. He gave Vogt a piece of medicated cotton-wool to press on his wound, put the bottle of cordial to his lips and made him drink. Vogt took a good mouthful; the liquid tasted acid and refreshing, and cleared his head wonderfully.
Sickel declined the draught with impatience. "Get away with your slops, you bone-breaker!" he said; "but if you've got any brandy I'll have it."
The hospital-orderly had none. "Well, what's the matter with you, then?" he asked.
"Something's wrong with my pins," answered the driver, and pointed to his leg.