The sixth battery of the 80th regiment, Eastern Division of the Field Artillery, had occasion, however, to send another non-commissioned officer to the Fire-workers' College--Gustav Weise.
Captain von Wegstetten was very well pleased with Weise; he considered he had made him a permanent convert to the cause of king and country, But Weise was rather inclined to domineer over his subordinates--which was not what might have been expected of a former social-democrat--and on that account his captain had hit upon the idea of persuading him to be a fire-worker. The non-commissioned officer had a clear head, and it might be hoped he would make a career for himself.
Under these circumstances Weise began more and more to curse the day when he had had tattooed upon his arm that ridiculous jingle about Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity. It caused him serious annoyance if one of his comrades noticed a scrap of the motto peeping out from under his sleeve, and wanted to see the whole inscription.
One day when he was out walking in the town he noticed on a door a brass plate bearing the announcement: "Dr. Büchsenstein, specialist in skin diseases, &c." It occurred to him that this gentleman might be of assistance to him, and he put in an appearance at the hour of consultation.
The little dark-haired doctor could not entirely restrain his intense amusement when the patient bared his arm and came out with the request that the tattooing might be scraped away.
"Well, my good man," he said, "I can't do that for you! You can't have it scraped away! Anyhow, you're wearing the sleeve of the king's uniform over the watchword of revolution; and if you want to do more, you can put on a thick coating of lanoline and dust it with rice-powder. Then nobody will see it."
"Thank you, doctor," said Weise, standing up. "What do I owe you for your trouble?"
"Nothing at all, my man!" said the little doctor, laughing. "It's been no trouble; only a pleasure!"
And the non-commissioned officer went off to the nearest druggist's, where he bought the largest tube of lanoline in the shop and half a pound of rice-powder.
The military prisoner Wolf could hardly believe his eyes when he saw his former comrade Vogt dressed in the grey prison clothes. The prisoners had been ordered out for open-air work and were standing in the corridor, but at some distance from each other; it was quite impossible to get nearer together, and speaking was strictly forbidden. The guard stepped into their places around the little band, and it was as usual well rubbed into the minds of the latter that these armed sentries carried loaded weapons, and were not supposed to hold their hands in any case of attempted escape. "Halt!" would be called three times, and they would fire if the word of command were not obeyed. The non-commissioned officer in command made this announcement, and then the doors were unlocked and thrown open.