The sergeant rubbed the leather roughly over his face, leaving patches of dirt and grease on the skin. Then he turned and looked Wolf straight in the eyes. "Do you see that, fellow?" the triumphant challenging look seemed to say: "Your comrade must abase himself to the level of the beasts, if we so will it,--we, who have the power!"
Wolf hit him full in the face with his clenched fist.
The sergeant staggered. He uttered a gurgling cry and tried to throw himself upon the reservist.
Then something unexpected happened, taking place so suddenly and so quickly that afterwards Wolf was hardly able to picture it. Findeisen had thrown to the ground all that he carried--the boots and the outfit. In a flash he seized the sergeant, held him raised for an instant in his powerful arms, and then flung him head forwards against the wall.
The skull struck the wall with a dull thud, and the body fell heavily to the ground.
There was a cry of "Stop that!" Deputy sergeant-major Heimert rushed through the doorway and flung himself upon Findeisen. The gunner defended himself wildly, hitting, biting, and scratching; he felt that he was fighting for his life, but Heimert was a match for him.
Others soon came, too,--non-commissioned officers and men. They dragged the raving soldier to the ground and bound him.
Wolf stood motionless, and let them tie his arms behind his back. His head was in a whirl, and it all seemed a confused dream.
It really was quite ludicrous that his first dream, of happy release from the service, should have such a horrible sequel. This was certainly a nightmare.
He shook his head and tugged at the cords which bound his hands, trying to awake from the hideous delusion. The cords pressed deeper into the flesh, and the pain brought him back to reality.