Bert wanted to ask if his informant had heard the names of any of the wounded, but the words he would have uttered stuck in his throat. While he was trying to get them out he reached the guard-room, and ushered the visitors into the presence of Professor Odenheimer.
“These men, sir, desire to make report concerning a fight that took place between our boys and the mob at Hamilton,” said the sergeant; and then he backed off and stood ready to hear what they had to say in addition to what they had already told him.
The excitable Prussian started as if he had been shot. “Our poys did have a pattle?” he exclaimed.
“Yes, sir, they did,” answered one of the men.
“Donder and blixen! I don’t can pelieve dot.”
“They say they have just come from there, sir,” interposed Bert.
The professor jumped to his feet, dashed his spectacles upon the table, and broke into a torrent of German ejaculations indicative of the greatest wonder and excitement. His next question was, not “Were any of the boys injured?” but—
“Did dem gadets make good fighting? Dot’s vot I vant to know.”
The men replied that they had done wonders.
“Dot’s all right! Dot’s all right,” exclaimed Mr. Odenheimer, rubbing his hands gleefully together. “Zargeant, you and de gorporal vait oudside and I will hear de rebort of dese men. So dem gadets make good fighting! I been glad to hear dot. Seet down in dem chairs and told me all apout it.”