“No, no; let your comrades sleep,” said the king, softly. “The fire will do me good. I found the right path to the fire, as I said Your dragoons have uncovered my quarters, and the cold blasts of wind whistle through them and freeze the water in my room. I prefer to sit by the fire and warm myself.” He was about to seat himself on the straw near the fire, when a harsh voice called out:
“March on!—every lazy scamp wants a place by the fire, but not one of them brings a splinter of wood.”
Fritz Kober was behind them with the wood; he had found it with great difficulty, and he was angry when he saw a strange soldier in his place by the side of Charles Henry.
The king turned to him quietly.
“You are right, my son!—come on! I will make room for you.”
“It is the king!” exclaimed Fritz, turning as if to fly. But the king held him.
“Remain where you are, my son; you brought the wood, and you have the best right. I only wish to warm myself a little, and I think there is room for us all.”
He seated himself upon the straw, and nodded to Fritz Kober to take a seat by him. Fritz tremblingly obeyed, and Charles stirred the fire, which flamed up beautifully.
King Frederick gazed at the flickering flames. Charles and Fritz sat on each side of him, and watched him in respectful silence; around the watch-fire lay the sleeping dragoons. After a long pause the king raised his head and looked about him.
“Well, children, to-morrow will be a hot day, and we must strike the Austrians boldly.”