“I was very fond of him!  He was at the school when I was teaching there.  But a good death—­a soldier’s death!” he said.  “I’ll write to his mother myself.”  Then the voice of the machine spoke.  “Who is in command?”

“I am, sir!” said the callow lieutenant, coming up.

Feller’s fingers moved in a restless beat on his trousers’ seam, his lips half parted as if he must speak, but the men of the company spoke for him.

“Bert Stransky!” they roared.

It was not according to military etiquette, but military etiquette meant nothing to them now.  They were above it in veteran superiority.

“And—­” Stransky had started to point to Feller, whose name he did not know, when a forbidding gleam under the hat brim arrested him.

“Where’s Stransky?” demanded the staff-officer.

“You’re looking at him!” replied Stransky with a benign grin.

Seeing that Stransky was only a private, the officer frowned at the anomaly when a lieutenant was present, then smiled in a way that accorded the company parliamentary rights, which he thought that they had fully earned.

“Yes, and he gets one of those iron crosses!” put in Tom Fragini.

“What for?” demanded Stransky in surprise.  They were making a lot of fuss about him when he had not done anything except to work out his individual destiny.

“Yes—­the first cross for Bert of the Reds!”

“And we’ll let him make a dozen anarchist speeches a day!”

“Yes, yes!” roared the company.

“By all means—­but not for this; for trying to save an old man’s life!” put in Marta.

After his survey of that amazing company the officer was the more amazed to hear a woman’s voice in such surroundings.

“The ays have it!” he announced cheerfully.  He lifted his cap to Marta.  With tender regard and grave reverence for that company, he took extreme care with his next remark lest a set of men of such dynamic spirit might repulse him as an invader.  “The lieutenant is in command for the present, according to regulations,” he proceeded.  “You will retire immediately to positions 48 to 49 A-J by the castle road.  You have done your part.  To-night you sleep and to-morrow you rest.”

Sleep!  Rest!  Where had they heard those words before?  Oh, yes, in a distant day before they went to war!  Sleep and rest!  Better far than an iron cross for every man in the company!  They could go now with something warmer in their hearts than consciousness of duty well done; but this time they need not go until their dead as well as their wounded were removed.

“You’re not coming with us?” Stransky whispered to Feller.

“Eh? eh?” Feller put his hand to his ear.  “Quite deaf!” he quavered.  “But I judge you ask if I am coming with you.  No.  I have to stay to look after my garden.  It has been sadly damaged, I fear.”

“That’s right—­of course you’re deaf!” agreed Stransky, well knowing the contrary.  “I’ll be lonely without you, pal.  It was love at first sight with me!”