“Sit down, you fool!” shouted Ebearhard savagely. “You’re drunk. The Captain couldn’t have made a better selection. What say you, comrades?”
A universal shout of “Aye!” greeted the question, and even Kurzbold’s three comrades joined in it.
“And now, gentlemen, no more talk. Here’s to the health of the new lieutenant, Joseph Greusel.”
The toast was drunk enthusiastically, all standing, with the exception of Kurzbold, who came down in his seat with a thud.
“All right!” he cried, waving his hand. “All right; all right! That’s what I said. Greusel’s good man, and now he’s elected by the companionship, he’s all right. I drink to him. Drink to anybody, I will!”
In groping round for the flagon, he upset it, and then roared loudly for the landlord to supply him again.
“Now, comrades,” said Roland sharply, “fall in! We’ve a long march ahead of us. Come, Greusel, we must lead the van, for I wish to instruct you in your duties.”
It was rather a straggling procession that set out from Hochst.
“Perhaps,” began Roland, as he strode along beside Greusel, “I should make some excuse for not following the advice you so strenuously urged upon me this morning regarding the appointment of a lieutenant. The truth is I wished to teach you a lesson, and could not resist the temptation of proving that a crisis firmly and promptly met disappears, whereas if you compromise with it there is a danger of being overwhelmed.”
“I admit. Commander, that you were successful just now, and the reason is that most of our brigade are sane and sober this morning. But wait until to-night, when the wine passes round several times, and if you try conclusions with them then you are likely to fail.”