“Scott went, of course,” said Carstairs.  “He’s an American and naturally a tuft-hunter.  He’s been making a long list of princely acquaintances recently, and he was bound to bring in the son of a field-marshal and make a friend of him, too.”

“Shut up, Carstairs,” said John.  “You talk this way to hide your own imperfections.  You know that at heart every Englishman is a snob.”

“Snobby is as snobby does,” laughed Carstairs.  “Now, Kratzek, lie back again and we’ll spread these blankets over you.”

The young Austrian smiled.

“I’ve fallen into very good company,” he said.

John, whose character was serious, felt some sadness as he looked at him.  He remembered those gay Viennese who had set the torch of the great war, and how merry they were over it with their visions of quick victory and glory.  Poor, gay, likable, light-headed Austrians!  Brave but short-sighted, they were likely to suffer more than any other nation!  The fair, handsome youth, wrapped now in the blankets, seemed to him to typify all the Austrian qualities.

“You’d better go to sleep if you can,” said John.  “We can’t move you yet, but in time you’ll reach a good hospital of ours in the rear.”

“I’ll obey you,” said Kratzek, in the most tractable manner, and closing his eyes he soon fell asleep despite his wound.

“Now, having caught your Austrian, what are you going to do with him?” said Carstairs to John.

“Nothing for the present, but later on I’ll have him taken down one of the transverse trenches to a hospital.  Maybe you think I’m foolish, Carstairs, but I’ve an idea that I’ve made a friend, though I didn’t have that purpose in view when I went out for him.  I never think that anybody hates me unless he proves it.  People as a rule don’t take the time and trouble to hate and plot.”

“You’re right, Scott.  Hating is a terribly tiresome business, and I notice that you’re by nature friendly.”

“Which may be because I’m American.”

“Oh, well, we English are friendly, too.”

“But seldom polite, although I think you’re unaware of the latter fact.”

“If a man doesn’t know he’s impolite, then he isn’t.  It’s the intention that counts.”

“We’ll let it go, but I’ve a strong premonition that this Austrian boy is going to do me a great favor some day.”

“I have premonitions, too, often, but they’re invariably wrong.  Now, I see an orderly coming.  I hope he hasn’t a message from Captain Colton for us to prowl around in the snow somewhere.”

Happily, the message released them from further duty that night and bade them seek rest.  Young Kratzek was lying in John’s bed and was sleeping.  He looked so young and so pale that the heart of his captor and rescuer was moved to pity.  Light-headed the Austrians might be, but no one could deny them valor.

Just beyond the niche was another and smaller one, seldom used, owing to its extreme narrowness, but John decided that he could sleep in it.  At any rate, if he fell off he would land in six or eight inches of soft snow.