It was a humiliating blow, that a prisoner could not resent in kind.
"Get up," ordered the corporal, "or I shall aid you with my bayonet." Though the words were not understood by the sufferer, the gesture was.

He tried to obey, but did not rise fast enough to suit the corporal.
"Here," mocked the fellow.

"That will help you!" His bayonet point passed through the seat of the victim's trousers, more than pricking the flesh inside.
"Coward!" hissed Prescott and three of four of the French officers.
"If you don't like it, and are not civil," raged the corporal hoarsely, "I shall beat some of you with the butt of my gun." Subsequently a French officer who had stepped a foot further than he was supposed to stand was rebuked by the corporal's gun-butt striking him on the knee-cap.

After that the prisoner limped.
"These brutes ought to be killed---every one of them!" Dick muttered disgustedly to a French officer near him.
"Most of them will be, before this long war is over," nodded the Frenchman, "but a soldier's death is too fine for such beasts." Finally a German officer arrived.

Under his crisp orders the now long column of prisoners moved out into the road, forming compactly and guarded by at least forty infantrymen.