Viggo was Beate's brother. He was 10 years old. Hans was Viggo's dearest
friend. The servants on the farm called the old Grenadier "Hans the
Watchdog," for they said when he talked to anyone it sounded like a dog
barking, and he looked as if he were ready to bite. But Viggo had once
said that the Grenadier's voice sounded like the rattle of a drum, and
the old soldier thought that was well said. It was from that time on
that Viggo and Hans were such good friends.
Hans the Grenadier was six feet two, and a little more. He was straight
as a stick. His hair was long and snowy white, and it hung in a braid
down his red soldier's coat.
When he came walking up to the farm from his little cottage he always
carried the ax on the left shoulder, like a gun, and marched stiff and
straight, and kept step as if the sergeant were marching right at his
heels, commanding "Left, right! Left, right!"
Viggo knew that sometimes Old Hans was willing to tell about the time he
served in the army. He told of the battles, and first and last about the
"Prince of 'Gustenberg."
"That was a man!" said Hans. "When he looked at you it was as if he
would eat you in one bite. And such a nose between the eyes! The Prince
of 'Gustenberg had a nose that shouted 'Get out of my way!' And
therefore they did get put of his way, too, wherever he showed himself.
"Do you know what the Prince of 'Gustenberg said when he spoke in front
of the troops? 'One thing is a shame,' said he, 'and that is to turn
your back before retreat is called.' And now you know what is a shame,
my boy!"
Viggo sat silent a little while.
"Have you never known a little boy to become a general?" he asked at
last.
"No, I haven't, but I have known a drummer boy to become a sergeant. He
was not much bigger than you. He could do everything you can think of.
There was one thing, though, that was very hard for him to do, and that
was to beat 'Retreat.' 'Forward March' he knew how to drum; he never
forgot that, and sometimes he beat that instead of 'Retreat,' and the
captain got angry. Usually he wasn't punished either, because he had
once saved the captain's life with a snowball."
"With a snowball?" said Viggo.
"Yes, I said snowball; he did not use greater means. We were rushing up
a hill with the enemy in front of us. It was in Winter. The captain and
the drummer boy led the march; but as soon as they came to the top of
the hill there stood the enemy in line. 'Aim!' commanded the enemy's
officer, and all the guns pointed right at the captain. Quick as
lightning the drummer boy grabbed a handful of snow and made a snowball,
and, just as the officer opened his mouth to say 'Fire!' the drummer boy
threw the snowball straight into the open mouth. He stood there, mouth
wide open. Well, then the rest of us arrived and we had a hot fight."
"Then was he made a sergeant?" asked Viggo.
"Yes, when the Prince had heard of it. He was given the rank of a
sergeant, and something better even than that. The Prince called him 'my
son.'"
"It was too bad that they didn't make him a general," said Viggo. He
added half aloud: "Do you think I might become a general, Hans?"
"Well, well, listen to the spring chicken!" said Hans. "So it is general
you want to be? Never mind, don't blush for that; it wasn't a bad
question. But it is very difficult, for you must learn much, oh, very
much."
"Mathematics, you mean?" said Viggo. "I have learned some of that
already, and languages too."
"Yes, that is well enough, but you must learn much more; you must learn
to drill so that you don't make a mistake in a single movement."
"Then do you think I might become a general?" continued Viggo.
"Who knows? But it is difficult. The eyes are not bad, you have the
right expression. But the nose--no it has not the correct shape. But, of
course, it may grow and curve in time," said Old Hans.
After that Viggo learned to drill and march from his old friend; but he
often looked in the mirror and wished with all his heart that the nose
would curve a little more.