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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2391-8.txt b/2391-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..858a68b --- /dev/null +++ b/2391-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4674 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bruce, by Albert Payson Terhune + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Bruce + +Author: Albert Payson Terhune + +Posting Date: March 27, 2009 [EBook #2391] +Release Date: November, 2000 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRUCE *** + + + + +Produced by Dianne Bean. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + +Bruce + + +by + +Albert Payson Terhune + + + + +TO MY TEN BEST FRIENDS: + +Who are far wiser in their way and far better in every way, than I; and +yet who have not the wisdom to know it + +Who do not merely think I am perfect, but who are calmly and +permanently convinced of my perfection;--and this in spite of fifty +disillusions a day + +Who are frantically happy at my coming and bitterly woebegone in my +absence + +Who never bore me and never are bored by me + +Who never talk about themselves and who always listen with rapturous +interest to anything I may say + +Who, having no conventional standards, have no respectability; and who, +having no conventional consciences, have no sins + +Who teach me finer lessons in loyalty, in patience, in true courtesy, +in unselfishness, in divine forgiveness, in pluck and in abiding good +spirits than do all the books I have ever read and all the other models +I have studied + +Who have not deigned to waste time and eyesight in reading a word of +mine and who will not bother to read this verbose tribute to themselves + +In short, to the most gloriously satisfactory chums who ever appealed +to human vanity and to human desire for companionship + +TO OUR TEN SUNNYBANK COLLIES MY STORY IS GRATEFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY +DEDICATED + + + +BRUCE + +by + +Albert Payson Terhune + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. The Coming Of Bruce + II. The Pest + III. The War Dog + IV. When Eyes Were No Use + V. The Double Cross + VI. The Werewolf + + + +CHAPTER I. The Coming Of Bruce + +She was beautiful. And she had a heart and a soul--which were a curse. +For without such a heart and soul, she might have found the tough +life-battle less bitterly hard to fight. + +But the world does queer things--damnable things--to hearts that are so +tenderly all-loving and to souls that are so trustfully and forgivingly +friendly as hers. + +Her "pedigree name" was Rothsay Lass. She was a collie--daintily +fragile of build, sensitive of nostril, furrily tawny of coat. Her +ancestry was as flawless as any in Burke's Peerage. + +If God had sent her into the world with a pair of tulip ears and with a +shade less width of brain-space she might have been cherished and +coddled as a potential bench-show winner, and in time might even have +won immortality by the title of "CHAMPION Rothsay Lass." + +But her ears pricked rebelliously upward, like those of her earliest +ancestors, the wolves. Nor could manipulation lure their stiff +cartilages into drooping as bench-show fashion demands. The average +show-collie's ears have a tendency to prick. By weights and plasters, +and often by torture, this tendency is overcome. But never when the +cartilage is as unyielding as was Lass's. + +Her graceful head harked back in shape to the days when collies had to +do much independent thinking, as sheep-guards, and when they needed +more brainroom than is afforded by the borzoi skull sought after by +modern bench-show experts. + +Wherefore, Lass had no hope whatever of winning laurels in the +show-ring or of attracting a high price from some rich fancier. She was +tabulated, from babyhood, as a "second"--in other words, as a faulty +specimen in a litter that should have been faultless. + +These "seconds" are as good to look at, from a layman's view, as is any +international champion. And their offspring are sometimes as perfect as +are those of the finest specimens. But, lacking the arbitrary "points" +demanded by show-judges, the "seconds" are condemned to obscurity, and +to sell as pets. + +If Lass had been a male dog, her beauty and sense and lovableness would +have found a ready purchaser for her. For nine pet collies out of ten +are "seconds"; and splendid pets they make for the most part. + +But Lass, at the very start, had committed the unforgivable sin of +being born a female. Therefore, no pet-seeker wanted to buy her. Even +when she was offered for sale at half the sum asked for her less +handsome brothers, no one wanted her. + +A mare--or the female of nearly any species except the canine--brings +as high and as ready a price as does the male. But never the female +dog. Except for breeding, she is not wanted. + +This prejudice had its start in Crusader days, some thousand years ago. +Up to that time, all through the civilized world, a female dog had been +more popular as a pet than a male. The Mohammedans (to whom, by creed, +all dogs are unclean) gave their European foes the first hint that a +female dog was the lowest thing on earth. + +The Saracens despised her, as the potential mother of future dogs. And +they loathed her accordingly. Back to Europe came the Crusaders, +bearing only three lasting memorials of their contact with the Moslems. +One of the three was a sneering contempt for all female dogs. + +There is no other pet as loving, as quick of wit, as loyal, as +staunchly brave and as companionable as the female collie. She has all +the male's best traits and none of his worst. She has more in common, +too, with the highest type of woman than has any other animal alive. +(This, with all due respect to womanhood.) + +Prejudice has robbed countless dog-lovers of the joy of owning such a +pal. In England the female pet dog has at last begun to come into her +own. Here she has not. The loss is ours. + +And so back to Lass. + +When would-be purchasers were conducted to the puppy-run at the Rothsay +kennels, Lass and her six brethren and sisters were wont to come +galloping to the gate to welcome the strangers. For the pups were only +three months old--an age when every event is thrillingly interesting, +and everybody is a friend. Three times out of five, the buyer's eye +would single Lass from the rollicking and fluffy mass of puppyhood. + +She was so pretty, so wistfully appealing, so free from fear (and from +bumptiousness as well) and carried herself so daintily, that one's +heart warmed to her. The visitor would point her out. The kennel-man +would reply, flatteringly-- + +"Yes, she sure is one fine pup!" + +The purchaser never waited to hear the end of the sentence, before +turning to some other puppy. The pronoun, "she," had killed forever his +dawning fancy for the little beauty. + +The four males of the litter were soon sold; for there is a brisk and a +steady market for good collie pups. One of the two other females died. +Lass's remaining sister began to "shape up" with show-possibilities, +and was bought by the owner of another kennel. Thus, by the time she +was five months old, Lass was left alone in the puppy-run. + +She mourned her playmates. It was cold, at night, with no other cuddly +little fur-ball to snuggle down to. It was stupid, with no one to help +her work off her five-months spirits in a romp. And Lass missed the +dozens of visitors that of old had come to the run. + +The kennel-men felt not the slightest interest in her. Lass meant +nothing to them, except the work of feeding her and of keeping an extra +run in order. She was a liability, a nuisance. + +Lass used to watch with pitiful eagerness for the attendants' +duty-visits to the run. She would gallop joyously up to them, begging +for a word or a caress, trying to tempt them into a romp, bringing them +peaceofferings in the shape of treasured bones she had buried for her +own future use. But all this gained her nothing. + +A careless word at best--a grunt or a shove at worst were her only +rewards. For the most part, the men with the feed-trough or the +water-pail ignored her bounding and wrigglingly eager welcome as +completely as though she were a part of the kennel furnishings. Her +short daily "exercise scamper" in the open was her nearest approach to +a good time. + +Then came a day when again a visitor stopped in front of Lass's run. He +was not much of a visitor, being a pallid and rather shabbily dressed +lad of twelve, with a brand-new chain and collar in his hand. + +"You see," he was confiding to the bored kennel-man who had been +detailed by the foreman to take him around the kennels, "when I got the +check from Uncle Dick this morning, I made up my mind, first thing, to +buy a dog with it, even if it took every cent. But then I got to +thinking I'd need something to fasten him with, so he wouldn't run away +before he learned to like me and want to stay with me. So when I got +the check cashed at the store, I got this collar and chain." + +"Are you a friend of the boss?" asked the kennel-man. + +"The boss?" echoed the boy. "You mean the man who owns this place? No, +sir. But when I've walked past, on the road, I've seen his 'Collies for +Sale' sign, lots of times. Once I saw some of them being exercised. +They were the wonderfulest dogs I ever saw. So the minute I got the +money for the check, I came here. I told the man in the front yard I +wanted to buy a dog. He's the one who turned me over to you. I +wish--OH!" he broke off in rapture, coming to a halt in front of Lass's +run. "Look! Isn't he a dandy?" + +Lass had trotted hospitably forward to greet the guest. Now she was +standing on her hind legs, her front paws alternately supporting her +fragile weight on the wire of the fence and waving welcomingly toward +the boy. Unknowingly, she was bidding for a master. And her wistful +friendliness struck a note of response in the little fellow's heart. +For he, too, was lonesome, much of the time, as is the fate of a sickly +only child in an overbusy home. And he had the true craving of the +lonely for dog comradeship. + +He thrust his none-too-clean hand through the wire mesh and patted the +puppy's silky head. Lass wiggled ecstatically under the unfamiliar +caress. All at once, in the boy's eyes, she became quite the most +wonderful animal and the very most desirable pet on earth. + +"He's great!" sighed the youngster in admiration; adding naïvely: "Is +he Champion Rothsay Chief--the one whose picture was in The Bulletin +last Sunday?" + +The kennel-man laughed noisily. Then he checked his mirth, for +professional reasons, as he remembered the nature of the boy's quest +and foresaw a bare possibility of getting rid of the unwelcome Lass. + +"Nope," he said. "This isn't Chief. If it was, I guess your Uncle +Dick's check would have to have four figures in it before you could +make a deal. But this is one of Chief's daughters. This is Rothsay +Lass. A grand little girl, ain't she? Say,"--in a confidential +whisper,--"since you've took a fancy for her, maybe I could coax the +old man into lettin' you have her at an easy price. He was plannin' to +sell her for a hundred or so. But he goes pretty much by what I say. He +might let her go for--How much of a check did you say your uncle sent +you?" + +"Twelve dollars," answered the boy,--"one for each year. Because I'm +named for him. It's my birthday, you know. But--but a dollar of it went +for the chain and the collar. How much do you suppose the gentleman +would want for Rothsay Lass?" + +The kennel-man considered for a moment. Then he went back to the house, +leaving the lad alone at the gate of the run. Eleven dollars, for a +high-pedigreed collie pup, was a joke price. But no one else wanted +Lass, and her feed was costing more every day. According to Rothsay +standards, the list of brood-females was already complete. Even as a +gift, the kennels would be making money by getting rid of the +prick-eared "second." Wherefore he went to consult with the foreman. + +Left alone with Lass, the boy opened the gate and went into the run. A +little to his surprise Lass neither shrank from him nor attacked him. +She danced about his legs in delight, varying this by jumping up and +trying to lick his excited face. Then she thrust her cold nose into the +cup of his hand as a plea to be petted. + +When the kennel-man came back, the boy was sitting on the dusty ground +of the run, and Lass was curled up rapturously in his lap, learning how +to shake hands at his order. + +"You can have her, the boss says," vouchsafed the kennel-man. "Where's +the eleven dollars?" + +By this graceless speech Dick Hazen received the key to the Seventh +Paradise, and a life-membership in the world-wide Order of Dog-Lovers. + +The homeward walk, for Lass and her new master, was no walk at all, but +a form of spiritual levitation. The half-mile pilgrimage consumed a +full hour of time. Not that Lass hung back or rebelled at her first +taste of collar and chain! These petty annoyances went unfelt in the +wild joy of a real walk, and in the infinitely deeper happiness of +knowing her friendship-famine was appeased at last. + +The walk was long for various reasons--partly because, in her frisking +gyrations, Lass was forever tangling the new chain around Dick's thin +ankles; partly because he stopped, every block or so, to pat her or to +give her further lessons in the art of shaking hands. Also there were +admiring boy-acquaintances along the way, to whom the wonderful pet +must be exhibited. + +At last Dick turned in at the gate of a cheap bungalow on a cheap +street--a bungalow with a discouraged geranium plot in its +pocket-handkerchief front yard, and with a double line of drying +clothes in the no larger space behind the house. + +As Dick and his chum rounded the house, a woman emerged from between +the two lines of flapping sheets, whose hanging she had been +superintending. She stopped at sight of her son and the dog. + +"Oh!" she commented with no enthusiasm at all. "Well, you did it, hey? +I was hoping you'd have better sense, and spend your check on a nice +new suit or something. He's kind of pretty, though," she went on, the +puppy's friendliness and beauty wringing the word of grudging praise +from her. "What kind of a dog is he? And you're sure he isn't savage, +aren't you?" + +"Collie," answered Dick proudly. "Pedigreed collie! You bet she isn't +savage, either. Why, she's an angel. She minds me already. See--shake +hands, Lass!" "Lass!" ejaculated Mrs. Hazen. "'SHE!' Dick, you don't +mean to tell me you've gone and bought yourself a--a FEMALE dog?" + +The woman spoke in the tone of horrified contempt that might well have +been hers had she found a rattlesnake and a brace of toads in her son's +pocket. And she lowered her voice, as is the manner of her kind when +forced to speak of the unspeakable. She moved back from the puppy's +politely out-thrust forepaw as from the passing of a garbage cart. + +"A female dog!" she reiterated. "Well, of all the chuckle-heads! A +nasty FEMALE dog, with your birthday money!" + +"She's not one bit nasty!" flamed Dick, burying the grubby fingers of +his right hand protectively in the fluffy mass of the puppy's +half-grown ruff. "She's the dandiest dog ever! She--" + +"Don't talk back to me!" snapped Mrs. Hazen. "Here! Turn right around +and take her to the cheats who sold her to you. Tell them to keep her +and give you the good money you paid for her. Take her out of my yard +this minute! Quick!" + +A hot mist of tears sprang into the boy's eyes. Lass, with the queer +intuition that tells a female collie when her master is unhappy, whined +softly and licked his clenched hand. + +"I--aw, PLEASE, Ma!" he begged chokingly. "PLEASE! It's--it's my +birthday, and everything. Please let me keep her. I--I love her better +than 'most anything there is. Can't I please keep her? Please!" + +"You heard what I said," returned his mother curtly. + +The washerwoman, who one day a week lightened Mrs. Hazen's household +labors, waddled into view from behind the billows of wind-swirled +clothes. She was an excellent person, and was built for endurance +rather than for speed. At sight of Lass she paused in real interest. + +"My!" she exclaimed with flattering approval. "So you got your dog, did +you? You didn't waste no time. And he's sure a handsome little critter. +Whatcher goin' to call him?" + +"It's not a him, Irene," contradicted Mrs. Hazen, with another modest +lowering of her strong voice. "It's a HER. And I'm sending Dick back +with her, to where she came from. I've got my opinion of people who +will take advantage of a child's ignorance, by palming off a horrid +female dog on him, too. Take her away, Dick. I won't have her here +another minute. You hear me?" + +"Please, Ma!" stammered Dick, battling with his desire to cry. "Aw, +PLEASE! I--I--" + +"Your ma's right, Dick," chimed in the washerwoman, her first +interested glance at the puppy changing to one of refined and lofty +scorn. "Take her back. You don't want any female dogs around. No nice +folks do." + +"Why not?" demanded the boy in sudden hopeless anger as he pressed +lovingly the nose Lass thrust so comfortingly into his hand. "WHY don't +we want a female dog around? Folks have female cats around them, and +female women. Why isn't a female dog--" + +"That will do, Dick!" broke in his shocked mother. "Take her away." + +"I won't," said the boy, speaking very slowly, and with no excitement +at all. + +A slap on the side of his head, from his mother's punitive palm, made +him stagger a little. Her hand was upraised for a second installment of +rebellion-quelling--when a slender little body flashed through the air +and landed heavily against her chest. A set of white puppy-teeth all +but grazed her wrathful red face. + +Lass, who never before had known the impulse to attack, had jumped to +the rescue of the beaten youngster whom she had adopted as her god. The +woman screeched in terror. Dick flung an arm about the furry whirlwind +that was seeking to avenge his punishment, and pulled the dog back to +his side. + +Mrs. Hazen's shriek, and the obbligato accompaniment of the +washerwoman, made an approaching man quicken his steps as he strolled +around the side of the house. The newcomer was Dick's father, +superintendent of the local bottling works. On his way home to lunch, +he walked in on a scene of hysteria. + +"Kill her, sir!" bawled the washerwoman, at sight of him. "Kill her! +She's a mad dog. She just tried to kill Miz' Hazen!" + +"She didn't do anything of the kind!" wailed Dick. "She was pertecting +me. Ma hit me; and Lass--" + +"Ed!" tearily proclaimed Mrs. Hazen, "if you don't send for a policeman +to shoot that filthy beast, I'll--" + +"Hold on!" interrupted the man, at a loss to catch the drift of these +appeals, by reason of their all being spoken in a succession so rapid +as to make a single blurred sentence. "Hold on! What's wrong? And where +did the pup come from? He's a looker, all right a cute little cuss. +What's the row?" + +With the plangently useless iterations of a Greek chorus, the tale was +flung at him, piecemeal and in chunks, and in a triple key. When +presently he understood, Hazen looked down for a moment at the +puppy--which was making sundry advances of a shy but friendly nature +toward him. Then he looked at the boy, and noted Dick's hero-effort to +choke back the onrush of babyish sobs. And then, with a roughly +tolerant gesture, he silenced the two raucous women, who were beginning +the tale over again for the third time. + +"I see," he said. "I see. I see how it is. Needn't din it at me any +more, folks. And I see Dicky's side of it, too. Yes, and I see the +pup's side of it. I know a lot about dogs. That pup isn't vicious. She +knows she belongs to Dick. You lammed into him, and she took up and +defended him. That's all there is to the 'mad-dog' part of it." + +"But Ed--" sputtered his wife. + +"Now, you let ME do the talking, Sade!" he insisted, half-grinning, yet +more than half grimly. "I'm the boss here. If I'm not, then it's safe +to listen to me till the boss gets here. And we're goin' to do whatever +I say we are--without any back-talk or sulks, either. It's this way: +Your brother gave the boy a birthday check. We promised he could spend +it any way he had a mind to. He said he wanted a dog, didn't he? And I +said, 'Go to it!' didn't I? Well, he got the dog. Just because it +happens to be a she, that's no reason why he oughtn't to be allowed to +keep it. And he can. That goes." + +"Oh, Dad!" squealed Dick in grateful heroworship. "You're a brick! I'm +not ever going to forget this, so long as I live. Say, watch her shake +hands, Dad! I've taught her, already, to--" + +"Ed Hazen!" loudly protested his wife. "Of all the softies! You haven't +backbone enough for a prune. And if my orders to my own son are going +to be--" + +"That'll be all, Sade!" interposed the man stiffly--adding: "By the +way, I got a queer piece of news to tell you. Come into the kitchen a +minute." + +Grumbling, rebellious, scowling,--yet unable to resist the lure of a +"queer piece of news," Mrs. Hazen followed her husband indoors, leaving +Dick and his pet to gambol deliriously around the clothes-festooned +yard in celebration of their victory. + +"Listen here, old girl!" began Hazen the moment the kitchen door was +shut behind them. "Use some sense, can't you? I gave you the wink, and +you wouldn't catch on. So I had to make the grandstand play. I'm no +more stuck on having a measly she-dog around here than you are. And +we're not going to have her, either. But--" + +"Then why did you say you were going to? Why did you make a fool of me +before Irene and everything?" she demanded, wrathful yet bewildered. + +"It's the boy's birthday, isn't it?" urged Hazen. "And I'd promised +him, hadn't I? And, last time he had one of those 'turns,' didn't Doc +Colfax say we mustn't let him fret and worry any more'n we could help? +Well, if he had to take that dog back to-day, it'd have broke his +heart. He'd have felt like we were his enemies, and he'd never have +felt the same to us again. And it might have hurt his health too--the +shock and all. So--" + +"But I tell you," she persisted, "I won't have a dirty little female--" + +"We aren't going to," he assured her. "Keep your hair on, till I've +finished. Tonight, after Dick's asleep, I'm going to get rid of her. +He'll wake up in the morning and find she's gone; and the door'll be +open. He'll think she's run away. He'll go looking for her, and he'll +keep on hoping to find her. So that'll ease the shock, you see, by +letting him down bit by bit, instead of snatching his pet away from him +violent-like. And he won't hold it up against US, either, as he would +the other way. I can offer a reward for her, too." + +There was a long and thought-crammed pause. The woman plunged deep into +the silences as her fat brain wrought over the suggestion. Then-- + +"Maybe you HAVE got just a few grains of sense, after all, Ed," +grudgingly vouchsafed Mrs. Hazen. "It isn't a bad idea. Only he'll +grieve a lot for her." + +"He'll be hoping, though," said her husband. "He'll be hoping all the +while. That always takes the razor-edge off of grieving. Leave it to +me." + +That was the happiest day Dick Hazen had ever known. And it was the +first actively happy day in all Lass's five months of life. + +Boy and dog spent hours in a ramble through the woods. They began +Lass's education--which was planned to include more intricate tricks +than a performing elephant and a troupe of circus dogs could hope to +learn in a lifetime. They became sworn chums. Dick talked to Lass as if +she were human. She amazed the enraptured boy by her cleverness and +spirits. His initiation to the dog-masters' guild was joyous and +complete. + +It was a tired and ravenous pair of friends who scampered home at +dinner-time that evening. The pallor was gone from Dick's face. His +cheeks were glowing, and his eyes shone. He ate greedily. His parents +looked covertly at each other. And the self-complacency lines around +Hazen's mouth blurred. + +Boy and dog went to bed early, being blissfully sleepy and full of +food--also because another and longer woodland ramble was scheduled for +the morrow. + +Timidly Dick asked leave to have Lass sleep on the foot of his cot-bed. +After a second telegraphing of glances, his parents consented. Half an +hour later the playmates were sound asleep, the puppy snuggling deep in +the hollow of her master's arm, her furry head across his thin chest. + +It was in this pose that Hazen found them when, late in the evening, he +tiptoed into Dick's cubby-hole room. He gazed down at the slumberous +pair for a space, while he fought and conquered an impulse toward fair +play. Then he stooped to pick up the dog. + +Lass, waking at the slight creak of a floorboard, lifted her head. At +sight of the figure leaning above her adored master, the lip curled +back from her white teeth. Far down in her throat a growl was born. +Then she recognized the intruder as the man who had petted her and fed +her that evening. The growl died in her throat, giving place to a +welcoming thump or two of her bushy tail. Dick stirred uneasily. + +Patting the puppy lightly on her upraised head, Hazen picked up Lass in +his arms and tiptoed out of the room with her. Mistaking this move for +a form of caress, she tried to lick his face. The man winced. + +Downstairs and out into the street Hazen bore his trustful little +burden, halting only to put on his hat, and for a whispered word with +his wife. For nearly a mile he carried the dog. Lass greatly enjoyed +the ride. She was pleasantly tired, and it was nice to be carried thus, +by some one who was so considerate as to save her the bother of walking. + +At the edge of the town, Hazen set her on the ground and at once began +to walk rapidly away in the direction of home. He had gone perhaps +fifty yards when Lass was gamboling merrily around his feet. A kick +sent the dismayed and agonized puppy flying through the air like a +whimpering catapult, and landed her against a bank with every atom of +breath knocked out of her. Before she had fairly struck ground,--before +she could look about her,--Hazen had doubled around a corner and had +vanished. + +At a run, he made for home, glad the unpleasant job was over. At the +door his wife met him. + +"Well," she demanded, "did you drown her in the canal, the way you +said?" + +"No," he confessed sheepishly, "I didn't exactly drown her. You see, +she nestled down into my arms so cozy and trusting-like, that I--well, +I fixed it so she'll never show up around here again. Trust me to do a +job thoroughly, if I do it at all. I--" + +A dramatic gesture from Mrs. Hazen's stubby forefinger interrupted him. +He followed the finger's angry point. Close at his side stood Lass, +wagging her tail and staring expectantly up at him. + +With her keen power of scent, it had been no exploit at all to track +the man over a mile of unfamiliar ground. Already she had forgiven the +kick or had put it down to accident on his part. And at the end of her +eager chase, she was eager for a word of greeting. + +"I'll be--" gurgled Hazen, blinking stupidly. + +"I guess you will be," conceded his wife. "If that's the 'thorough' way +you do your jobs at the factory--" + +"Say," he mumbled in a sort of wondering appeal, "is there any HUMAN +that would like to trust a feller so much as to risk another +ribcracking kick, just for the sake of being where he is? I almost +wish--" + +But the wish was unspoken. Hazen was a true American husband. He feared +his wife more than he loved fairness. And his wife's glare was full +upon him. With a grunt he picked Lass up by the neck, tucked her under +his arm and made off through the dark. + +He did not take the road toward the canal, however. Instead he made for +the railroad tracks. He remembered how, as a lad, he had once gotten +rid of a mangy cat, and he resolved to repeat the exploit. It was far +more merciful to the puppy--or at least, to Hazen's conscience,--than +to pitch Lass into the slimy canal with a stone tied to her neck. + +A line of freight cars--"empties"--was on a siding, a short distance +above the station. Hazen walked along the track, trying the door of +each car he passed. The fourth he came to was unlocked. He slid back +the newly greased side door, thrust Lass into the chilly and black +interior and quickly slid shut the door behind her. Then with the silly +feeling of having committed a crime, he stumbled away through the +darkness at top speed. + +A freight car has a myriad uses, beyond the carrying of legitimate +freight. From time immemorial, it has been a favorite repository for +all manner of illicit flotsam and jetsam human or otherwise. + +Its popularity with tramps and similar derelicts has long been a theme +for comic paper and vaudeville jest. Though, heaven knows, the inside +of a moving box-car has few jocose features, except in the imagination +of humorous artist or vaudevillian! + +But a far more frequent use for such cars has escaped the notice of the +public at large. As any old railroader can testify, trainhands are +forever finding in box-cars every genus and species of stray. + +These finds range all the way from cats and dogs and discarded white +rabbits and canaries, to goats. Dozens of babies have been discovered, +wailing and deserted, in box-car recesses; perhaps a hundred miles from +the siding where, furtively, the tiny human bundle was thrust inside +some conveniently unlatched side door. + +A freight train offers glittering chances for the disposal of the +Unwanted. More than once a slain man or woman has been sent along the +line, in this grisly but effective fashion, far beyond the reach of +recognition. + +Hazen had done nothing original or new in depositing the luckless +collie pup in one of these wheeled receptacles. He was but following an +old-established custom, familiar to many in his line of life. There was +no novelty to it,--except to Lass. + +The car was dark and cold and smelly. Lass hated it. She ran to its +door. Here she found a gleam of hope for escape and for return to the +home where every one that day had been so kind to her. Hazen had shut +the door with such vehemence that it had rebounded. The hasp was down, +and so the catch had not done its duty. The door had slid open a few +inches from the impetus of Hazen's shove. + +It was not wide enough open to let Lass jump out, but it was wide +enough for her to push her nose through. And by vigorous thrusting, +with her triangular head as a wedge, she was able to widen the +aperture, inch by inch. In less than three minutes she had broadened it +far enough for her to wriggle out of the car and leap to the side of +the track. There she stood bewildered. + +A spring snow was drifting down from the sulky sky. The air was damp +and penetrating. By reason of the new snow the scent of Hazen's +departing footsteps was blotted out. Hazen himself was no longer in +sight. As Lass had made the journey from house to tracks with her head +tucked confidingly under her kidnaper's arm, she had not noted the +direction. She was lost. + +A little way down the track the station lights were shining with misty +warmth through the snow. Toward these lights the puppy trotted. + +Under the station eaves, and waiting to be taken aboard the almost-due +eleven-forty express, several crates and parcels were grouped. One +crate was the scene of much the same sort of escape-drama that Lass had +just enacted. + +The crate was big and comfortable, bedded down with soft sacking and +with "insets" at either side containing food and water. But commodious +as was the box, the unwonted confinement did not at all please its +occupant--a temperamental and highly bred young collie in process of +shipment from the Rothsay Kennels to a purchaser forty miles up the +line. + +This collie, wearying of the delay and the loneliness and the strange +quarters, had begun to plunge from one side of the crate to the other +in an effort to break out. A carelessly nailed slat gave away under the +impact. The dog scrambled through the gap and proceeded to gallop +homeward through the snow. + +Ten seconds later, Lass, drawn by the lights and by the scent of the +other dog, came to the crate. She looked in. There, made to order for +her, was a nice bed. There, too, were food and drink to appease the +ever-present appetite of a puppy. Lass writhed her way in through the +gap as easily as the former occupant had crawled out. + +After doing due justice to the broken puppy biscuits in the +inset-trough, she curled herself up for a nap. + +The clangor and glare of the oncoming express awakened her. She cowered +in one corner of the crate. Just then two station-hands began to move +the express packages out to the edge of the platform. One of them +noticed the displaced board of the crate. He drove home its loosened +nails with two sharp taps from a monkey-wrench, glanced inside to make +certain the dog had not gotten out, and presently hoisted the crate +aboard the express-car. + +Two hours later the crate was unloaded at a waystation. At seven in the +morning an expressman drove two miles with it to a country-home, a mile +or so from the village where Lass had been disembarked from the train. + +An eager knot of people--the Mistress, the Master and two +gardeners--crowded expectantly around the crate as it was set down on +the lawn in front of The Place's veranda. The latch was unfastened, and +the crate's top was lifted back on its hinges. + +Out stepped Lass,--tired, confused, a little frightened, but eagerly +willing to make friends with a world which she still insisted on +believing was friendly. It is hard to shake a collie pup's inborn faith +in the friendliness of mankind, but once shaken, it is more than +shaken. It is shattered beyond hope of complete mending. + +For an instant she stood thus, looking in timid appeal from one to +another of the faces about her. These faces were blank enough as they +returned her gaze. The glad expectancy was wiped from them as with a +sponge. It was the Master who first found voice. + +"And THAT'S Rothsay Princess!" he snorted indignantly. "That's the pup +worth two hundred dollars at eight months, 'because she has every +single good point of Champion Rothsay Chief and not a flaw from nostril +to tail-tip'! Rothsay wrote those very words about her, you remember. +And he's supposed to be the most dependable man in the collie business! +Lord! She's undersized--no bigger than a five monther! And she's +prick-eared and apple-domed; and her head's as wide as a church door!" + +Apparently these humans were not glad to see her. Lass was grieved at +their cold appraisal and a little frightened by the Master's tone of +disgust. Yet she was eager, as ever, to make a good impression and to +lure people into liking her. Shyly she walked up to the Mistress and +laid one white little paw on her knee. + +Handshaking was Lass's one accomplishment. It had been taught her by +Dick. It had pleased the boy. He had been proud of her ability to do +it. Perhaps it might also please these strangers. And after the odd +fashion of all new arrivals who came to The Place, Lass picked out the +Mistress, rather than any one else, as a potential friend. + +The Mistress had ever roused the impatience of collie experts by +looking past the showier "points" of a dog and into the soul and brain +and disposition that lay behind them. So now she looked; and what she +saw in Lass's darkly wistful eyes established the intruder's status at +The Place. + +"Let her stay!" pleaded the Mistress as the Master growled something +about bundling the dog into her crate again and sending her back to the +Rothsay Kennels. "Let her stay, please! She's a dear." + +"But we're not breeding 'dears,'" observed the Master. "We planned to +breed a strain of perfect collies. And this is a mutt!" + +"Her pedigree says there's no better collie blood in America," denied +the Mistress. "And even if she happens to be a 'second,' that's no sign +her puppies will be seconds. See how pretty and loving and wise she is. +DO keep her!" + +Which of course settled the matter. + +Up the lawn, from his morning swim in the lake, strolled a great +mahogany-and-white collie. At sight of Lass he lowered his head for a +charge. He was king of The Place's dogs, this mighty thoroughbred, +Sunnybank Lad. And he did not welcome canine intruders. + +But he halted midway in his dash toward the puppy who frisked forth so +gayly to meet him. For he recognized her as a female. And man is the +only animal that will molest the female of his species. + +The fiercely silent charge was changed in a trice to a coldly civil +touching of noses, and the majestic wagging of a plumy tail. After +which, side by side, the two collies--big and little--old and +new--walked up to the veranda, to be petted by the humans who had so +amusedly watched their encounter. + +"See!" exclaimed the Mistress, in triumph. "Lad has accepted her. He +vouches for her. That ought to be enough for any one!" + +Thus it was that Lass found a home. + +As she never yet had been taught to know her name, she learned readily +to respond to the title of "Princess." And for several months life went +on evenly and happily for her. + +Indeed, life was always wondrous pleasant, there at The Place,--for +humans and for animals alike. A fire-blue lake bordered the grounds on +two sides. Behind stretched the forest. And on every side arose the +soft green mountains, hemming in and brooding over The Place as though +they loved it. In the winter evenings there was the huge library hearth +with its blaze and warmth; and a disreputable fur rug in front of it +that might have been ordained expressly for tired dogs to drowse on. +And there were the Mistress and the Master. Especially the Mistress! +The Mistress somehow had a way of making all the world seem worth while. + +Then, of a morning, when Lass was just eleven months old, two things +happened. + +The Mistress and the Master went down to her kennel after breakfast. +Lass did not run forth to greet them as usual. She lay still, wagging +her tail in feeble welcome as they drew near. But she did not get up. + +Crowding close to her tawny side was a tiny, shapeless creature that +looked more like a fat blind rat than like anything else. It was a +ten-hour-old collie pup--a male, and yellowish brown of hue. + +"That's the climax!" complained the Master, breaking in on the +Mistress's rhapsodies. "Here we've been planning to start a kennel of +home-bred collies! And see what results we get! One solitary puppy! Not +once in ten times are there less than six in a collie-litter. Sometimes +there are a dozen. And here the dog you wheedled me into keeping has +just one! I expected at least seven." + +"If it's a freak to be the only puppy in a litter," answered the +Mistress, refusing to part with her enthusiasm over the miracle, "then +this one ought to bring us luck. Let's call him 'Bruce.' You remember, +the original Bruce won because of the mystic number, seven. This Bruce +has got to make up to us for the seven puppies that weren't born. See +how proud she is of him! Isn't she a sweet little mother?" + +The second of the morning's events was a visit from the foreman of the +Rothsay Kennels, who motored across to The Place, intent on clearing up +a mystery. + +"The Boss found a collie yesterday, tied in the front yard of a negro +cabin a mile or two from our kennels," he told the Master. "He +recognized her right away as Rothsay Princess. The negro claims to have +found her wandering around near the railroad tracks, one night, six +months ago. Now, what's the answer?" + +"The answer," said the Master, "is that your boss is mistaken. I've had +Rothsay Princess for the past six months. And she's the last dog I'll +ever get from the Rothsay Kennels. I was stung, good and plenty, on +that deal. + +"My wife wanted to keep her, or I'd have made a kick in the courts for +having to pay two hundred dollars for a cheeky, apple-domed, prick +eared--" + +"Prick-eared!" exclaimed the foreman, aghast at the volleyed sacrilege. +"Rothsay Princess has the best ears of any pup we've bred since +Champion Rothsay Chief. Not a flaw in that pup. She--" + +"Not a flaw, hey!" sniffed the Master. "Come down to the kennel and +take a look at her. She has as many flaws as a street-cur has fleas." + +He led the way to the kennel. At sight of the stranger Lass growled and +showed her teeth. For a collie mother will let nobody but proven +friends come near to her newborn brood. + +The foreman stared at the hostile young mother for a half-minute, +whistling bewilderedly between his teeth. Then he laughed aloud. + +"That's no more Rothsay Princess than I am!" he declared. "I know who +she IS, though. I'd remember that funny mask among a million. That's +Rothsay Lass! Though how she got HERE--! + +"We couldn't have shipped her by mistake, either," he went on, +confused. "For we'd sold her, that same day, to a kid in our town. I +ought to know. Because the kid kept on pestering us every day for a +month afterward, to find if she had come back to us. He said she ran +away in the night. He still comes around, once a week or so, to ask. A +spindly, weak, sick-looking little chap, he is. I don't get the point +of this thing, from any angle. But we run our kennels on the square. +And I can promise the boss'll either send back your check or send +Rothsay Princess to you and take Lass back." + +Two days later, while all The Place was still mulling over the mystery, +a letter came for the Master from Lass's home town. It was signed +"Edw'd Hazen," and it was written on the cheap stationery of his +employer's bottling works. It read: + +Dear Sir: + +"Six months ago, my son bought a dog from the Rothsay Kennels. It was a +she-dog, and his ma and I didn't want one around. So I put it aboard a +freight-car on the sly. My boy went sick over losing his dog. He has +never rightly got over it, but he peaks and mopes and gets thinner all +the time. If I had known how hard he was going to take it, I would of +cut off my hand before I would of done such a thing. And my wife feels +just like I do about it. We would both of us have given a hundred +dollars to get the dog back for him, when we saw how bad he felt. But +it was too late. Somehow or other it is most generally too late when a +rotten thing has been done. + +"To-day he went again to the Rothsay Kennels to ask if she had come +back. He has always been hoping she would. And they told him you have +her. Now, sir, I am a poor man, but if one hundred dollars will make +you sell me that dog, I'll send it to you in a money order by return +mail. It will be worth ten times that much, to my wife and me, to have +Dick happy again. I inclose a stamp. Will you let me know?" + +Six weeks afterward The Place's car brought Dick Hazen across to +receive his long-lost pet. + +The boy was thinner and shakier and whiter than when he had gone to +sleep with his cherished puppy curled against his narrow chest. But +there was a light in his eyes and an eagerness in his heart that had +not been there in many a long week. + +Lass was on the veranda to welcome him. And as Dick scrambled out of +the car and ran to pick her up, she came more than half-way to meet +him. With a flurry of fast-pattering steps and a bark of eager welcome, +she flung herself upon her long-vanished master. For a highbred collie +does not forget. And at first glimpse of the boy Lass remembered him. + +Dick caught her up in his arms--a harder feat than of yore, because of +her greater weight and his own sapped strength,--and hugged her tight +to his breast. Winking very fast indeed to disperse tears that had no +place in the eyes of a self-contained man of twelve, he sputtered +rapturously: + +"I KNEW I'd find you, Lassie--I knew it all the time;--even the times +when I was deadsure I wouldn't! Gee, but you've grown, though! And +you're beautifuler than ever. Isn't she, Miss?" he demanded, turning to +the Mistress with instinctive knowledge that here at least he would +find confirmation. "Indeed she is!" the Mistress assured him. + +"And see how glad she is to be with you again! She--" + +"And Dad says she can stay with me, for keeps!" exulted Dick. "He says +he'll put a new lock on the cellar door, so she can't ever push out +again, the way she did, last time. But I guess she's had her lesson in +going out for walks at night and not being able to find her way back. +She and I are going to have the dandiest times together, that ever +happened. Aren't we, Lass? Is that her little boy?" he broke off, in +eager curiosity, as the Master appeared from the kennels, carrying +Bruce. + +The puppy was set down on the veranda floor for Dick's inspection. + +"He's cunning, isn't he? Kind of like a Teddy Bear,--the sort kids play +with. But," with a tinge of worry, "I'm not sure Ma will let me keep +two. Maybe--" + +"Perhaps," suggested the Mistress, "perhaps you'd like us to keep +little Bruce, to remember Lass by? We'll try to make him very happy." + +"Yes'm!" agreed Dick, in much haste, his brow clearing from a mental +vision of Mrs. Hazen's face when she should see him return with twice +as many dogs as he had set out for. "Yes'm. If you wouldn't mind, very +much. S'pose we leave it that way? I guess Bruce'll like being with +you, Miss. I--I guess pretty near anybody would. You'll--you'll try not +to be too homesick for Lass, won't you?" + +On the steps of the veranda the downy and fat puppy watched his +mother's departure with no especial interest. By the Mistress's wish, +Mr. Hazen had not been required to make any part of his proffered +hundred-dollar payment for the return of his boy's pet. All the +Mistress had stipulated was that Lass might be allowed to remain at The +Place until baby Bruce should no longer need her. + +"Bruce," said the Mistress as the car rolled up the drive and out of +sight, "you are the sole visible result of The Place's experiment in +raising prize collies. You have a tremendous responsibility on those +fat little shoulders of yours,--to live up to it all." + +By way of showing his scorn for such trifles as a "tremendous +responsibility," Bruce proceeded to make a ferocious onslaught at the +Mistress's temperamental gray Persian kitten, "Tipperary," which was +picking a mincing way across the veranda. + +A howl of pain and two scratches on his tiny nose immediately followed +the attack. Tipperary then went on with her mincing promenade. And +Bruce, with loud lamentations, galloped to the shelter of the +Mistress's skirt. + +"Poor little chap!" soothed the Mistress, picking him up and comforting +him. "Responsibility isn't such a joke, after all, is it, Baby?" + + + +CHAPTER II. The Pest + +Thackeray, as a lad, was dropped from college for laziness and for +gambling. Bismarck failed to get a University degree, because he lacked +power to study and because he preferred midnight beer to midnight oil. +George Washington, in student days, could never grasp the simplest +rules of spelling. The young Lincoln loved to sprawl in the shade with +fish-pole or tattered book, when he should have been working. + +Now, these men were giants--physically as well as mentally. Being +giants, they were by nature slow of development. + +The kitten, at six months of age, is graceful and compact and of +perfect poise. The lion-cub, at the same age, is a gawky and foolish +and ill-knit mass of legs and fur; deficient in sense and in symmetry. +Yet at six years, the lion and the cat are not to be compared for power +or beauty or majesty or brain, or along any other lines. + +The foregoing is not an essay on the slow development of the Great. It +is merely a condensation of the Mistress's earnest arguments against +the selling or giving away of a certain hopelessly awkward and +senseless and altogether undesirable collie pup named Bruce. + +From the very first, the Mistress had been Bruce's champion at The +Place. There was no competition for that office. She and she alone +could see any promise in the shambling youngster. + +Because he had been born on The Place, and because he was the only son +of Rothsay Lass, whom the Mistress had also championed against strong +opposition, it had been decided to keep and raise him. But daily this +decision seemed less and less worth while. Only the Mistress's +championing of the Undesirable prevented his early banishment. + +From a fuzzy and adventurous fluff-ball of gray-gold-and-white fur, +Bruce swiftly developed into a lanky giant. He was almost as large +again as is the average collie pup of his age; but, big as he was, his +legs and feet and head were huge, out of all proportion to the rest of +him. The head did not bother him. Being hampered by no weight of brain, +it would be navigated with more or less ease, in spite of its bulk. But +the legs and feet were not only in his own way, but in every one else's. + +He seemed totally lacking in sense, as well as in bodily coordination. +He was forever getting into needless trouble. He was a stormcenter. No +one but a born fool--canine or human--could possibly have caused +one-tenth as much bother. + +The Mistress had named him "Bruce," after the stately Scottish +chieftain who was her history-hero. And she still called him +Bruce--fifty times a day--in the weary hope of teaching him his name. +But every one else on The Place gave him a title instead of a name--a +title that stuck: "The Pest." He spent twenty-four hours, daily, living +up to it. + +Compared with Bruce's helplessly clownish trouble-seeking propensities, +Charlie Chaplin's screen exploits are miracles of heroic dignity and of +good luck. + +There was a little artificial water-lily pool on The Place, perhaps +four feet deep. By actual count, Bruce fell into it no less than nine +times in a single week. Once or twice he had nearly drowned there +before some member of the family chanced to fish him out. And, learning +nothing from experience, he would fall in again, promptly, the next day. + +The Master at last rigged up a sort of sloping wooden platform, running +from the lip of the pool into the water, so that Bruce could crawl out +easily, next time he should tumble in. Bruce watched the placing of +this platform with much grave interest. The moment it was completed, he +trotted down it on a tour of investigation. At its lower edge he +slipped and rolled into the pool. There he floundered, with no thought +at all of climbing out as he had got in, until the Master rescued him +and spread a wire net over the whole pool to avert future accidents. + +Thenceforth, Bruce met with no worse mischance, there, than the +perpetual catching of his toe-pads in the meshes of the wire. Thus +ensnared he would stand, howling most lamentably, until his yells +brought rescue. + +Though the pool could be covered with a net, the wide lake at the foot +of the lawn could not be. Into the lake Bruce would wade till the water +reached his shoulders. Then with a squeal of venturesome joy, he would +launch himself outward for a swim; and, once facing away from shore, he +never had sense enough to turn around. + +After a half-hour of steady swimming, his soft young strength would +collapse. A howl of terror would apprise the world at large that he was +about to drown. Whereat some passing boatman would pick him up and hold +him for ransom, or else some one from The Place must jump into skiff or +canoe and hie with all speed to the rescue. The same thing would be +repeated day after day. + +The local S.P.C.A. threatened to bring action against the Master for +letting his dog risk death, in this way, from drowning. Morbidly, the +Master wished the risk might verge into a certainty. + +The puppy's ravenous appetite was the wonder of all. He stopped eating +only when there was nothing edible in reach. And as his ideas of edible +food embraced everything that was chewable,--from bath-towels to +axle-grease--he was seldom fasting and was frequently ill. + +Nature does more for animals than for humans. By a single experience +she warns them, as a rule, what they may safely eat and what they may +not. Bruce was the exception. He would pounce upon and devour a +luscious bit of laundry-soap with just as much relish as though a +similar bit of soap had not made him horribly sick the day before. + +Once he munched, relishfully, a two-pound box of starch, box and all; +on his recovery, he began upon a second box, and was unhappy when it +was taken from him. + +He would greet members of the family with falsetto-thunderous barks of +challenge as they came down the drive from the highway. But he would +frisk out in joyous welcome to meet and fawn upon tramps or peddlers +who sought to invade The Place. He could scarce learn his own name. He +could hardly be taught to obey the simplest command. As for shaking +hands or lying down at order (those two earliest bits of any dog's +education), they meant no more to Bruce than did the theory of +quadratic equations. + +At three months he launched forth merrily as a chicken-killer; +gleefully running down and beheading The Place's biggest Orpington +rooster. But his first kill was his last. The Master saw to that. + +There is no use in thrashing a dog for killing poultry. There is but +one practically sure cure for the habit. And this one cure the Master +applied. + +He tied the slain rooster firmly around Bruce's furry throat, and made +the puppy wear it, as a heavy and increasingly malodorous pendant, for +three warm days and nights. + +Before the end of this seventy-two-hour period, Bruce had grown to +loathe the sight and scent of chicken. Stupid as he was, he learned +this lesson with absolute thoroughness,--as will almost any +chicken-killing pup,--and it seemed to be the only teaching that his +unawakened young brain had the power to grasp. + +In looks, too, Bruce was a failure. His yellowish-and-white body was +all but shapeless. His coat was thick and heavy enough, but it showed a +tendency to curl--almost to kink--instead of waving crisply, as a +collie's ought. The head was coarse and blurred in line. The body was +gaunt, in spite of its incessant feedings. As for contour or style-- + +It was when the Master, in disgust, pointed out these diverse failings +of the pup, that the Mistress was wont to draw on historic precedent +for other instances of slow development, and to take in vain the names +of Thackeray, Lincoln, Washington and Bismarck and the rest. + +"Give him time!" she urged once. "He isn't quite six months old yet; +and he has grown so terribly fast. Why, he's over two feet tall, at the +shoulder, even now--much bigger than most full-grown collies. Champion +Howgill Rival is spoken of as a 'big' dog; yet he is only twenty-four +inches at the shoulder, Mr. Leighton says. Surely it's something to own +a dog that is so big." + +"It IS 'something,'" gloomily conceded the Master. "In our case it is a +catastrophe. I don't set up to be an expert judge of collies, so maybe +I am all wrong about him. I'm going to get professional opinion, +though. Next week they are going to have the spring dogshow at Hampton. +It's a little hole-in-a-corner show, of course. But Symonds is to be +the all-around judge, except for the toy breeds. And Symonds knows +collies, from the ground up. I am going to take Bruce over there and +enter him for the puppy class. If he is any good, Symonds will know it. +If the dog is as worthless as I think he is, I'll get rid of him. If +Symonds gives any hope for him, I'll keep him on a while longer." + +"But," ventured the Mistress, "if Symonds says 'Thumbs down,' then--" + +"Then I'll buy a pet armadillo or an ornithorhynchus instead," +threatened the Master. "Either of them will look more like a collie +than Bruce does." + +"I--I wonder if Mr. Symonds smokes," mused the Mistress under her +breath. + +"Smokes?" echoed the Master. "What's that got to do with it?" + +"I was only wondering," she made hesitant answer, "if a box of very +wonderful cigars, sent to him with our cards, mightn't perhaps--" + +"It's a fine sportsmanly proposition!" laughed the Master. "When women +get to ruling the world of sport, there'll be no need of comic +cartoons. Genuine photographs will do as well. If it's just the same to +you, dear girl, we'll let Symonds buy his own cigars, for the present. +The dog-show game is almost the only one I know of where a judge is +practically always on the square. People doubt his judgment, sometimes, +but there is practically never any doubt of his honesty. Besides, we +want to get the exact dope on Bruce. (Not that I haven't got it, +already!) If Symonds 'gates' him, I'm going to offer him for sale at +the show. If nobody buys him there, I'm going--" + +"He hasn't been 'gated' yet," answered the Mistress in calm confidence. + +At the little spring show, at Hampton, a meager eighty dogs were +exhibited, of which only nine were collies. This collie division +contained no specimens to startle the dog-world. Most of the exhibits +were pets. And like nearly all pets, they were "seconds"--in other +words, the less desirable dogs of thoroughbred litters. + +Hampton's town hall auditorium was filled to overcrowding, with a mass +of visitors who paraded interestedly along the aisles between the +raised rows of stall-like benches where the dogs were tied; or who +grouped densely around all four sides of the roped judging-ring in the +center of the hall. + +For a dogshow has a wel-nigh universal appeal to humanity at large; +even as the love for dogs is one of the primal and firm-rooted human +emotions. Not only the actual exhibitor and their countless friends +flock to such shows; but the public at large is drawn thither as to no +other function of the kind. + +Horse-racing, it is true, brings out a crowd many times larger than +does a dogshow. But only because of the thrill of winning or losing +money. For where one's spare cash is, there is his heart and his +all-absorbing interest. Yet it is a matter of record that grass is +growing high, on the race-tracks, in such states as have been able to +enforce the anti-betting laws. The "sport of kings" flourishes only +where wagers may accompany it. Remove the betting element, and you turn +your racetrack into a huge and untrodden lot. + +There is practically no betting connected with any dogshow. People go +there to see the dogs and to watch their judging, and for nothing else. +As a rule, the show is not even a social event. Nevertheless, the +average dogshow is thronged with spectators. (Try to cross Madison +Square Garden, on Washington's Birthday afternoon, while the +Westminster Kennel Club's Show is in progress. If you can work your way +through the press of visitors in less than half an hour, then Nature +intended you for a football champion.) + +The fortunate absence of a betting-interest alone keeps such affairs +from becoming among the foremost sporting features of the world. Many +of the dogs on view are fools, of course. Because many of them have +been bred solely with a view to show-points. And their owners and +handlers have done nothing to awaken in their exhibits the half-human +brain and heart that is a dog's heritage. All has been sacrificed to +"points"--to points which are arbitrary and which change as freakily as +do fashions in dress. + +For example, a few years ago, a financial giant collected and exhibited +one of the finest bunches of collies on earth. He had a competent +manager and an army of kennel-men to handle them. He took inordinate +pride in these priceless collies of his. Once I watched him, at the +Garden Show, displaying them to some Wall Street friends. Three times +he made errors in naming his dogs. Once, when he leaned too close to +the star collie of his kennels, the dog mistook him for a stranger and +resented the intrusion by snapping at him. He did not know his own +pets, one from another. And they did not know their owner, by sight or +by scent. + +At the small shows, there is an atmosphere wholly different. Few of the +big breeders bother to compete at such contests. The dogs are for the +most part pets, for which their owners feel a keen personal affection, +and which have been brought up as members of their masters' households. +Thus, if small shows seldom bring forth a world-beating dog, they at +least are full of clever and humanized exhibits and of men and women to +whom the success or failure of their canine friends is a matter of +intensest personal moment. Wherefore the small show often gives the +beholder something he can find but rarely in a larger exhibition. + +A few dogs genuinely enjoy shows--or are supposed to. To many others a +dogshow is a horror. + +Which windy digression brings us back by prosy degrees to Bruce and to +the Hampton dogshow. + +The collies were the first breed to be judged. And the puppy class, as +usual, was the first to be called to the ring. + +There were but three collie pups, all males. One was a rangy tri-color +of eleven months, with a fair head and a bad coat. The second was an +exquisite six-months puppy, rich of coat, prematurely perfect of head, +and cowhocked. These two and Bruce formed the puppy class which paraded +before Symonds in the oblong ring. + +"Anyhow," whispered the Mistress as the Master led his stolidly +gigantic entry toward the enclosure, "Bruce can't get worse than a +third-prize yellow ribbon. We ought to be a little proud of that. There +are only three entries in his class." + +But even that bit of barren pride was denied the awkward youngster's +sponsor. As the three pups entered the enclosure, the judge's half-shut +eyes rested on Bruce--at first idly, then in real amazement. Crossing +to the Master, before giving the signal for the first maneuvers, he +said in tired disgust-- + +"Please take your measly St. Bernard monstrosity out of the ring. This +is a class for collies, not for freaks. I refuse to judge that pup as a +collie." + +"He's a thoroughbred," crossly protested the Master. "I have his +certified pedigree. There's no better blood in--" + +"I don't care what his ancestors were," snapped the judge. "He's a +throw-back to the dinosaur or the Great Auk. And I won't judge him as a +collie. Take him out of the ring. You're delaying the others." + +A judge's decision is final. Red with angry shame and suppressing an +unworthy desire to kick the luckless Bruce, the Master led the pup back +to his allotted bench. Bruce trotted cheerily along with a maddening +air of having done something to be proud of. Deaf to the Mistress's +sympathy and to her timidly voiced protests, the Master scrawled on an +envelope-back the words "For Sale. Name Your Own Price," and pinned it +on the edge of the bench. + +"Here endeth the first lesson in collie-raising, so far as The Place is +concerned," he decreed, stalking back to the ringside to watch the rest +of the judging. + +The Mistress lingered behind, to bestow a furtive consolatory pat upon +the disqualified Bruce. Then she joined her husband beside the ring. + +It was probably by accident that her skirt brushed sharply against the +bench-edge as she went--knocking the "For Sale" sign down into the +litter of straw below. + +But a well-meaning fellow-exhibitor, across the aisle, saw the bit of +paper flutter floorward. This good soul rescued it from the straw and +pinned it back in place. + +(The world is full of helpful folk. That is perhaps one reason why the +Millennium's date is still so indefinite.) + +An hour later, a man touched the Master on the arm. + +"That dog of yours, on Bench 48," began the stranger, "the big pup with +the 'For Sale' sign on his bench. What do you want for him?" + +The Mistress was several feet away, talking to the superintendent of +the show. Guiltily, yet gratefully, the Master led the would-be +purchaser back to the benches, without attracting his wife's notice. + +A few minutes afterward he returned to where she and the superintendent +were chatting. + +"Well," said the Master, trying to steel himself against his wife's +possible disappointment, "I found a buyer for Bruce--a Dr. Halding, +from New York. He likes the pup. Says Bruce looks as if he was strong +and had lots of endurance. I wonder if he wants him for a sledge-dog. +He paid me fifteen dollars for him; and it was a mighty good bargain. I +was lucky to get more than a nickel for such a cur." + +The Master shot forth this speech in almost a single rapid breath. +Then, before his wife could reply,--and without daring to look into her +troubled eyes,--he discovered an acquaintance on the far side of the +ring and bustled off to speak to him. The Master, you see, was a +husband, not a hero. + +The Mistress turned a worried gaze on the superintendent. + +"It was best, I suppose," she said bravely. "We agreed he must be sold, +if the judge decided he was not any good. But I'm sorry. For I'm fond +of him. I'm sorry he is going to live in New York, too. A big city is +no place for a big dog. I hope this Dr. Halding will be nice to the +poor puppy." + +"Dr.--WHO?" sharply queried the superintendent, who had not caught the +name when the Master had spoken it in his rapid-fire speech. "Dr. +Halding? Of New York? Huh! + +"You needn't worry about the effect of city life on your dog," he went +on with venomous bitterness. "The pup won't have a very long spell of +it. If I had my way, that man Halding would be barred from every +dog-show and stuck in jail. It's an old trick of his, to buy up +thoroughbreds, cheap, at shows. The bigger and the stronger they are, +the more he pays for them. He seems to think pedigreed dogs are better +for his filthy purposes than street curs. They have a higher nervous +organism, I suppose. The swine!" + +"What do you mean?" asked the Mistress, puzzled by his vehemence. "I +don't--" + +"You must have heard of Halding and his so-called 'research work,'" the +superintendent went on. "He is one of the most notorious +vivisectionists in--" + +The superintendent got no further. He was talking to empty air. The +Mistress had fled. Her determined small figure made a tumbled wake +through the crowd as she sped toward Bruce's bench. The puppy was no +longer there. In another second the Mistress was at the door of the +building. + +A line of parked cars was stretched across the opposite side of the +village street. Into one of these cars a large and loose-jointed man +was lifting a large and loose-jointed dog. The dog did not like his +treatment, and was struggling pathetically in vain awkwardness to get +free. + +"Bruce!" called the Mistress, fiercely, as she dashed across the street. + +The puppy heard the familiar voice and howled for release. Dr. Halding +struck him roughly over the head and scrambled into the machine with +him, reaching with his one disengaged hand for the self-starter button. +Before he could touch it, the Mistress was on the running-board of the +car. + +As she ran, she had opened her wristbag. Now, flinging on the +runabout's seat a ten and a five-dollar bill, she demanded-- + +"Give me my dog! There is the money you paid for him!" + +"He isn't for sale," grinned the Doctor. "Stand clear, please. I'm +starting." + +"You're doing nothing of the sort," was the hot reply. "You'll give +back my dog! Do you understand?" + +For answer Halding reached again toward his self-starter. A renewed +struggle from the whimpering puppy frustrated his aim and forced him to +devote both hands to the subduing of Bruce. The dog was making frantic +writhings to get to the Mistress. She caught his furry ruff and raged +on, sick with anger. + +"I know who you are and what you want this poor frightened puppy for. +You shan't have him! There seems to be no law to prevent human devils +from strapping helpless dogs to a table and torturing them to death in +the unholy name of science. But if there isn't a corner waiting for +them, below, it's only because Hades can't be made hot enough to punish +such men as they ought to be punished! You're not going to torture +Bruce. There's your money. Let go of him." + +"You talk like all silly, sloppy sentimentalists!" scoffed the Doctor, +his slight German accent becoming more noticeable as he continued: "A +woman can't have the intellect to understand our services to humanity. +We--" + +"Neither have half the real doctors!" she flashed. "Fully half of them +deny that vivisection ever helped humanity. And half the remainder say +they are in doubt. They can't point to a single definite case where it +has been of use. Alienists say it's a distinct form of mental +perversion,--the craving to torture dumb animals to death and to make +scientific notes of their sufferings." + +"Pah!" he sniffed. "I--" + +She hurried on + +"If humanity can't be helped without cutting live dogs and kittens to +shreds, in slow agony--then so much the worse for humanity! If you +vivisectors would be content to practice on one another--or on +condemned murderers,--instead of on friendly and innocent dogs, there'd +be no complaint from any one. But leave our pets alone. Let go of my +puppy!" + +By way of response the Doctor grunted in lofty contempt. At the same +time he tucked the wriggling dog under his right arm, holding him thus +momentarily safe, and pressed the self-starter button. + +There was a subdued whir. A move of Halding's foot and a release of the +brake, and the car started forward. + +"Stand clear!" he ordered. "I'm going." + +The jolt of the sudden start was too much for the Mistress's balance on +the running-board. Back she toppled. Only by luck did she land on her +feet instead of her head, upon the greasy pavement of the street. + +But she sprang forward again, with a little cry of indignant dismay, +and reached desperately into the moving car for Bruce, calling him +eagerly by name. + +Dr. Halding was steering with his left hand, while his viselike right +arm still encircled the protesting collie. As the Mistress ran +alongside and grasped frantically for her doomed pet, he let go of +Bruce for an instant, to fend off her hand--or perhaps to thrust her +away from the peril of the fast-moving mud-guards. At the Mistress's +cry--and at the brief letup of pressure caused by the Doctor's menacing +gesture toward the unhappy woman--Bruce's long-sleeping soul awoke. He +answered the cry and the man's blow at his deity in the immemorial +fashion of all dogs whose human gods are threatened. + +There was a snarling wild-beast growl, the first that ever had come +from the clownlike puppy's throat,--and Bruce flung his unwieldy young +body straight for the vivisector's throat. + +Halding, with a vicious fist-lunge, sent the pup to the floor of the +car in a crumpled heap, but not before the curving white eyeteeth had +slashed the side of the man's throat in an ugly flesh-wound that drove +its way dangerously close to the jugular. + +Half stunned by the blow, and with the breath knocked out of him, Bruce +none the less gathered himself together with lightning speed and +launched his bulk once more for Halding's throat. + +This time he missed his mark--for several things happened all at once. + +At the dog's first onslaught, Halding's foot had swung forward, along +with his fist, in an instinctive kick. The kick did not reach Bruce. +But it landed, full and effectively, on the accelerator. + +The powerful car responded to the touch with a bound. And it did so at +the very moment that the flash of white teeth at his throat made +Halding snatch his own left hand instinctively from the steering-wheel, +in order to guard the threatened spot. + +A second later the runabout crashed at full speed into the wall of a +house on the narrow street's opposite side. + +The rest was chaos. + +When a crowd of idlers and a policeman at last righted the wrecked car, +two bodies were found huddled inertly amid a junk-heap of splintered +glass and shivered wood and twisted metal. The local ambulance carried +away one of these limp bodies. The Place's car rushed the smash-up's +other senseless victim to the office of the nearest veterinary. Dr. +Halding, with a shattered shoulder-blade and a fractured nose and jaw +and a mild case of brain-concussion,--was received as a guest of honor +at the village hospital. + +Bruce, his left foreleg broken and a nasty assortment of glass-cuts +marring the fluffiness of his fur, was skillfully patched up by the +vet' and carried back that night to The Place. + +The puppy had suddenly taken on a new value in his owners' eyes--partly +for his gallantly puny effort at defending the Mistress, partly because +of his pitiful condition. And he was nursed, right zealously, back to +life and health. + +In a few weeks, the plaster cast on the convalescent's broken foreleg +had been replaced by a bandage. In another week or two the vet' +pronounced Bruce as well as ever. The dog, through habit, still held +the mended foreleg off the ground, even after the bandage was removed. +Whereat, the Master tied a bandage tightly about the uninjured foreleg. + +Bruce at once decided that this, and not the other, was the lame leg; +and he began forthwith to limp on it. As it was manifestly impossible +to keep both forelegs off the ground at the same time when he was +walking, he was forced to make use of the once-broken leg. Finding, to +his amaze, that he could walk on it with perfect ease, he devoted his +limping solely to the well leg. And as soon as the Master took the +bandage from that, Bruce ceased to limp at all. + +Meanwhile, a lawyer, whose name sounded as though it had been culled +from a Rhine Wine list, had begun suit, in Dr. Halding's name, against +the Mistress, as a "contributory cause" of his client's accident. The +suit never came to trial. It was dropped, indeed, with much haste. Not +from any change of heart on the plaintiff's behalf; but because, at +that juncture, Dr. Halding chanced to be arrested and interned as a +dangerous Enemy Alien. Our country had recently declared war on +Germany; and the belated spy-hunt was up. + +During the Federal officers' search of the doctor's house, for +treasonable documents (of which they found an ample supply), they came +upon his laboratory. No fewer than five dogs, in varying stages of +hideous torture, were found strapped to tables or hanging to +wall-hooks. The vivisector bewailed, loudly and gutturally, this cruel +interruption to his researches in Science's behalf. + +One day, two months after the accident, Bruce stood on all four feet +once more, with no vestige left of scars or of lameness. And then, for +the first time, a steady change that had been so slow as to escape any +one's notice dawned upon the Mistress and the Master. It struck them +both at the same moment. And they stared dully at their pet. + +The shapeless, bumptious, foolish Pest of two months ago had vanished. +In his place, by a very normal process of nature-magic, stood a +magnificently stately thoroughbred collie. + +The big head had tapered symmetrically, and had lost its puppy +formlessness. It was now a head worthy of Landseer's own pencil. The +bonily awkward body had lengthened and had lost its myriad knobs and +angles. It had grown massively graceful. + +The former thatch of half-curly and indeterminately yellowish fuzz had +changed to a rough tawny coat, wavy and unbelievably heavy, stippled at +the ends with glossy black. There was a strange depth and repose and +Soul in the dark eyes--yes, and a keen intelligence, too. + +It was the old story of the Ugly Duckling, all over again. + +"Why!" gasped the Mistress. "He's--he's BEAUTIFUL! And I never knew it." + +At her loved voice the great dog moved across to where she sat. Lightly +he laid one little white paw on her knee and looked gravely up into her +eyes. + +"He's got sense, too," chimed in the Master. "Look at those eyes, if +you doubt it. They're alive with intelligence. It's--it's a miracle! He +can't be the same worthless whelp I wanted to get rid of! He CAN'T!" + +And he was not. The long illness, at the most formative time of the +dog's growth, had done its work in developing what, all the time, had +lain latent. The same illness--and the long-enforced personal touch +with humans--had done an equally transforming work on the puppy's +undeveloped mind. The Thackeray-Washington-Lincoln-Bismarck simile had +held good. + +What looked like a miracle was no more than the same beautifully simple +process which Nature enacts every day, when she changes an awkward and +dirt-colored cygnet into a glorious swan or a leggily gawky colt into a +superb Derby-winner. But Bruce's metamorphosis seemed none the less +wonderful in the eyes of the two people who had learned to love him. + +Somewhere in the hideous wreck of Dr. Halding's motorcar the dog had +found a soul--and the rest had followed as a natural course of growth. + +At the autumn dog-show, in Hampton, a "dark-sable-and-white" collie of +unwonted size and beauty walked proudly into the ring close to the +Mistress's side, when the puppy class was called--a class that includes +all dogs under twelve months old. Six minutes later the Mistress was +gleesomely accepting the first-prize blue ribbon, for "best puppy," +from Judge Symonds' own gnarled hand. + +Then came the other classes for collies--"Novice," "Open," "Limit," +"Local," "American Bred." And as Bruce paced majestically out of the +ring at last, he was the possessor of five more blue ribbons--as well +as the blue Winner's rosette, for "best collie in the show." + +"Great dog you've got there, madam!" commented Symonds in solemn +approval as he handed the Winner's rosette to the Mistress. "Fine dog +in every way. Fine promise. He will go far. One of the best types +I've--" + +"Do you really think so?" sweetly replied the Mistress. "Why, one of +the foremost collie judges in America has gone on record as calling him +a 'measly St. Bernard monstrosity.'" + +"No?" snorted Symonds, incredulous. "You don't say so! A judge who +would speak so, of that dog, doesn't understand his business. He--" + +"Oh, yes, he does!" contradicted the Mistress, glancing lovingly at her +handful of blue ribbons. "I think he understands his business very well +indeed--NOW!" + + + +CHAPTER III. The War Dog + +The guest had decided to wait until next morning, before leaving The +Place, instead of following his first plan of taking a night train to +New York. He was a captain in our regular army and had newly come back +from France to forget an assortment of shrapnel-bites and to teach +practical tactics to rookies. + +He reached his decision to remain over night at The Place while he and +the Mistress and the Master were sitting on the vine-hung west veranda +after dinner, watching the flood of sunset change the lake to molten +gold and the sky to pink fire. It would be pleasant to steal another +few hours at this back-country House of Peace before returning to the +humdrum duties of camp. And the guest yielded to the temptation. + +"I'm mighty glad you can stay over till morning," said the Master. +"I'll send word to Roberts not to bring up the car." + +As he spoke, he scrawled a penciled line on an envelope-back; then he +whistled. + +From a cool lounging-place beneath the wistaria-vines arose a huge +collie--stately of form, dark brown and white of coat, deep-set of eye +and with a head that somehow reminded one of a Landseer engraving. The +collie trotted up the steps of the veranda and stood expectant before +the Master. The latter had been folding the envelope lengthwise. Now he +slipped it through the ring in the dog's collar. + +"Give it to Roberts," he said. + +The big collie turned and set off at a hand-gallop. + +"Good!" approved the guest. "Bruce didn't seem to be in any doubt as to +what you wanted him to do. He knows where Roberts is likely to be?" + +"No," said the Master. "But he can track him and find him, if Roberts +is anywhere within a mile or so from here. That was one of the first +things we taught him--to carry messages. All we do is to slip the paper +into his collar-ring and tell him the name of the person to take it to. +Naturally, he knows us all by name. So it is easy enough for him to do +it. We look on the trick as tremendously clever. But that's because we +love Bruce. Almost any dog can be taught to do it, I suppose. We--" + +"You're mistaken!" corrected the guest. "Almost any dog CAN'T be taught +to. Some dogs can, of course; but they are the exception. I ought to +know, for I've been where dog-couriers are a decidedly important +feature of trench-warfare. I stopped at one of the dog-training schools +in England, too, on my way back from Picardy, and watched the teaching +of the dogs that are sent to France and Flanders. Not one in ten can be +trained to carry messages; and not one in thirty can be counted on to +do it reliably. You ought to be proud of Bruce." + +"We are," replied the Mistress. "He is one of the family. We think +everything of him. He was such a stupid and awkward puppy, too! Then, +in just a few months, he shaped up, as he is now. And his brain woke." + +Bruce interrupted the talk by reappearing on the veranda. The folded +envelope was still in the ring on his collar. The guest glanced +furtively at the Master, expecting some sign of chagrin at the collie's +failure. + +Instead, the Master took the envelope, unfolded it and glanced at a +word or two that had been written beneath his own scrawl; then he made +another penciled addition to the envelope's writing, stuck the twisted +paper back into the ring and said-- + +"Roberts." + +Off trotted Bruce on his second trip. + +"I had forgotten to say which train you'll have to take in the +morning," explained the Master. "So Roberts wrote, asking what time he +was to have the car at the door after breakfast. It was careless of me." + +The guest did not answer. But when Bruce presently returned,--this time +with no paper in his collar-ring,--the officer passed his hand +appraisingly through the dog's heavy coat and looked keenly down into +his dark eyes. + +"Gun-shy?" asked the guest. "Or perhaps he's never heard a gun fired?" + +"He's heard hundreds of guns fired," said the Master. "I never allow a +gun to be fired on The Place, of course, because we've made it a bird +refuge. But Bruce went with us in the car to the testing of the Lewis +machineguns, up at Haskell. They made a most ungodly racket. But +somehow it didn't seem to bother the Big Dog at all." + +"H'm!" mused the guest, his professional interest vehemently roused. +"He would be worth a fortune over there. There are a lot of collies in +the service, in one capacity or another--almost as many as the +Airedales and the police dogs. And they are doing grand work. But I +never saw one that was better fitted for it than Bruce. It's a pity he +lives on the wrong side of the Atlantic. He could do his bit, to more +effect than the average human. There are hundreds of thousands of men +for the ranks, but pitifully few perfect courier-dogs." + +The Mistress was listening with a tensity which momentarily grew more +painful. The Master's forehead, too, was creased with a new thought +that seemed to hurt him. To break the brief silence that followed the +guest's words, he asked: + +"Are the dogs, over there, really doing such great work as the papers +say they are? I read, the other day--" + +"'Great work!'" repeated the guest. "I should say so. Not only in +finding the wounded and acting as guards on listening posts, and all +that, but most of all as couriers. There are plenty of times when the +wireless can't be used for sending messages from one point to another, +and where there is no telephone connection, and where the firing is too +hot for a human courier to get through. That is where is the war dogs +have proved their weight in radium. Collies, mostly. There are a +million true stories of their prowess told, at camp-fires. Here are +just two such incidents--both of them on record, by the way, at the +British War Office + +"A collie, down near Soissons, was sent across a bad strip of +fire-scourged ground, with a message. A boche sharpshooter fired at him +and shattered his jaw. The dog kept on, in horrible agony, and +delivered the message. Another collie was sent over a still hotter and +much longer stretch of territory with a message. (That was during the +Somme drive of 1916.) He was shot at, a dozen times, as he ran. At last +two bullets got him. He fell over, mortally wounded. He scrambled to +his feet and kept on falling, stumbling, staggering--till he got to his +destination. Then he dropped dead at the side of the Colonel the +message had been sent to. And those are only two of thousands of true +collie-anecdotes. Yet some fools are trying to get American dogs done +away with, as 'non-utilitarian,' while the war lasts! As if the dogs in +France, today, weren't earning their overseas brothers' right to +live--and live well!" + +Neither of his hearers made reply when the guest finished his earnest, +eager recital. Neither of them had paid much heed to his final words. +For the Master and the Mistress were looking at each other in mute +unhappiness. The same miserable thought was in the mind of each. And +each knew the thought that was torturing the mind of the other. + +Presently, at a glint of inquiry in the Master's eye, the Mistress +suddenly bent over and buried her face in the deep mass of Bruce's ruff +as the dog stood lovingly beside her. Then, still stroking the collie's +silken head, she returned her husband's wretchedly questioning glance +with a resigned little nod. The Master cleared his throat noisily +before he could speak with the calm indifference he sought. Then, +turning to the apparently unnoticing guest, he said-- + +"I think I told you I tried to get across to France at the very +start--and I was barred because I am past forty and because I have a +bum heart and several other defects that a soldier isn't supposed to +have. My wife and I have tried to do what little we can for the Cause, +on this side of the ocean. But it has seemed woefully little, when we +remember what others are doing. And we have no son we can send." + +Again he cleared his throat and went on with sulky ungraciousness: + +"We both know what you've been driving at for the past five minutes. +And--and we agree. Bruce can go." + +"Great!" applauded the guest. "That's fine! He'll be worth his--" + +"If you think we're a couple of fools for not doing this more +willingly," went on the Master with savage earnestness, "just stop to +think what it means to a man to give up the dog he loves. Not to give +him up to some one who will assure him a good home, but to send him +over into that hell, where a German bullet or a shell-fragment or +hunger or disease is certain to get him, soon or late. To think of him +lying smashed and helpless, somewhere in No Man's Land, waiting for +death; or caught by the enemy and eaten! (The Red Cross bulletin says +no less than eight thousand dogs were eaten, in Saxony alone, in 1913, +the year BEFORE the war began.) Or else to be captured and then cut up +by some German vivisector-surgeon in the sacred interests of Science! +Oh, we can bring ourselves to send Bruce over there! But don't expect +us to do it with a good grace. For we can't." + +"I--" began the embarrassed guest; but the Mistress chimed in, her +sweet voice not quite steady. + +"You see, Captain, we've made such a pet--such a baby--of Bruce! All +his life he has lived here--here where he had the woods to wander in +and the lake to swim in, and this house for his home. He will be so +unhappy and--Well, don't let's talk about that! When I think of the +people who give their sons and everything they have, to the country, I +feel ashamed of not being more willing to let a mere dog go. But then +Bruce is not just a 'mere dog.' He is--he is BRUCE. All I ask is that +if he is injured and not killed, you'll arrange to have him sent back +here to us. We'll pay for it, of course. And will you write to whomever +you happen to know, at that dog-training school in England, and ask +that Bruce be treated nicely while he is training there? He's never +been whipped. He's never needed it, you see." + + +The Mistress might have spared herself much worry as to Bruce's +treatment in the training school to which he was consigned. It was not +a place of cruelty, but of development. And when, out of the thousands +of dogs sent there, the corps of trainers found one with promise of +strong ability, such a pupil was handled with all the care and +gentleness and skill that a temperamental prima donna might expect. + +Such a dog was the big American collie, debarked from a goods car at +the training camp railway station, six weeks after the Mistress and the +Master had consented to his enlistment. And the handlers treated him +accordingly. + +The Master himself had taken Bruce to the transport, in Brooklyn, and +had led him aboard the overfull ship. The new sights and sounds around +him interested the home-bred collie. But when the Master turned him +over to the officer in whose charge he was to be for the voyage, +Bruce's deep-set eyes clouded with a sudden heartsick foreboding. + +Wrenching himself free from the friendly hand on his collar, he sprang +in pursuit of his departing deity,--the loved Master who was leaving +him alone and desolate among all these strange scenes and noises. The +Master, plodding, sullen and heavy-hearted, toward the gangway, was +aware of a cold nose thrust into his dejected hand. + +Looking down he beheld Bruce staring up at him with a world of stark +appeal in his troubled gaze. The Master swallowed hard; then laid his +hand on the beautiful head pressed so confidingly against his knee. +Turning, he led the dog back to the quarters assigned to him. + +"Stay here, old friend!" he commanded, huskily. "It's all right. You'll +make good. I know that. And there's a chance in a billion that you'll +come back to us. I'm--I'm not deserting you. And I guess there's +precious little danger that any one on The Place will ever forget you. +It's--it's all right. Millions of humans are doing it. I'd give +everything I've got, if I could go, too. IT'S ALL RIGHT!" + +Then Bruce understood at last that he was to stay in this place of +abominations, far from everything he loved; and that he must do so +because the Master ordained it. He made no further effort to break away +and to follow his god ashore. But he shivered convulsively from head to +foot; and his desolate gaze continued to trace the Master's receding +figure out of sight. Then, with a long sigh, he lay down, heavily, his +head between his white forepaws, and resigned himself to whatever of +future misery his deities might have ordained for him. + +Ensued a fortnight of mental and bodily anguish, as the inland-reared +dog tasted the horrors of a voyage in a rolling ship, through heaving +seas. Afterward, came the landing at a British port and the train ride +to the camp which was to be his home for the next three months. + +Bruce's sense of smell told him the camp contained more dogs than ever +he had beheld in all his brief life put together. But his hearing would +have led him to believe there were not a dozen other dogs within a mile +of him. + +From the encampment arose none of the rackety barking which betokens +the presence of many canines, and which deafens visitors to a dog-show. + +One of the camp's first and most stringent rules forbade barking, +except under special order. These dogs--or the pick of them--were +destined for work at the front. The bark of a dog has a carrying +quality greater than the combined shouting of ten men. It is the last +sound to follow a balloonist, after he has risen above the reach of all +other earth-noises. + +Hence, a chance bark, rising through the night to where some enemy +airman soared with engines turned off, might well lead to the bombing +of hitherto unlocated trenches or detachment-camps. For this and divers +other reasons, the first lesson taught to arriving wardogs was to +abstain from barking. + +The dogs were divided, roughly, by breeds, as regarded the line of +training assigned to them. The collies were taught courier-work. The +Airedales, too,--hideous, cruel, snake-headed,--were used as couriers, +as well as to bear Red Cross supplies and to hunt for the wounded. The +gaunt and wolflike police dogs were pressed into the two latter tasks, +and were taught listening-post duty. And so on through all available +breeds,--including the stolidly wise Old English sheepdogs who were to +prove invaluable in finding and succoring and reporting the +wounded,--down to the humble terriers and mongrels who were taught to +rid trenches of vermin. + +Everywhere was quiet efficiency and tirelessly patient and skillful +work on the part of the trainers. For Britain's best dog men had been +recruited for service here. On the perfection of their charges' +training might depend the fate of many thousand gallant soldiers. +Wherefore, the training was perfect. + +Hundreds of dogs proved stupid or unreliable or gun-shy or too easily +confused in moments of stress. These were weeded out, continually, and +shipped back to the masters who had proffered them. + +Others developed with amazing speed and cleverness, grasping their +profession as could few human soldiers. And Bruce, lonely and +heartsore, yet throwing himself into his labors with all the zest of +the best thoroughbred type,--was one of this group. + +His early teachings now stood him in good stead. What once had been a +jolly game, for his own amusement and that of the Mistress and the +Master, was now his life-work. Steadily his trainer wrought over him, +bringing out latent abilities that would have dumfounded his earliest +teachers, steadying and directing the gayly dashing intelligence; +upbuilding and rounding out all his native gifts. + +A dog of Bruce's rare type made up to the trainers for the dullness of +their average pupils. He learned with bewildering ease. He never forgot +a lesson once taught. + +No, the Mistress need not have interceded to save him from beating. As +soon would an impresario think of thrashing Caruso or Paderewski as +would Bruce's glum Scottish trainer have laid whip to this best pupil +of his. Life was bare and strict for Bruce. But life was never unkind +to him, in these first months of exile from The Place. And, bit by bit, +he began to take a joy in his work. + +Not for a day,--perhaps not for an hour, did the big collie forget the +home of his babyhood or those he had delighted to worship, there. And +the look of sadness in his dark eyes became a settled aspect. Yet, +here, there was much to interest and to excite him. And he grew to look +forward with pleasure to his daily lessons. + +At the end of three months, he was shipped to France. There his +seemingly aimless studies at the training camp were put to active use. + + * * * * * + +At the foot of the long Flanders hill-slope the "Here-We-Come" +Regiment, of mixed American and French infantry, held a +caterpillar-shaped line of trenches. + +To the right, a few hundred yards away, was posted a Lancashire +regiment, supported by a battalion from Cornwall. On the left were two +French regiments. In front, facing the hill-slope and not a half-mile +distant, was the geometric arrangement of sandbags that marked the +contour of the German first-line trenches. + +The hill behind them, the boches in front of them, French and British +troops on either side of them--the Here-We-Comes were helping to defend +what was known as a "quiet" sector. Behind the hill, and on loftier +heights far to the rear, the Allied artillery was posted. Somewhere in +the same general locality lay a division of British reserves. + +It is almost a waste of words to have described thus the surroundings +of the Here-We-Comes. For, with no warning at all, those entire +surroundings were about to be changed. + +Ludendorff and his little playmates were just then engaged in the +congenial sport of delivering unexpected blows at various successive +points of the Allied line, in an effort to find some spot that was soft +enough to cave in under the impact and let through a horde of gray-clad +Huns. And though none of the defenders knew it, this "quiet" sector had +been chosen for such a minor blow. + +The men in higher command, back there behind the hill crest, had a +belated inkling, though, of a proposed attack on the lightly defended +front trenches. For the Allied airplanes which drifted in the upper +heavens like a scattered handful of dragon-flies were not drifting +there aimlessly. They were the eyes of the snakelike columns that +crawled so blindly on the scarred brown surface of the earth. And those +"eyes" had discerned the massing of a force behind the German line had +discerned and had duly reported it. + +The attack might come in a day. It might not come in a week. But it was +coming--unless the behind-the-lines preparations were a gigantic feint. + +A quiet dawn, in the quiet trenches of the quiet sector. Desultory +artillery and somewhat less desultory sniping had prevailed throughout +the night, and at daybreak; but nothing out of the ordinary. + +Two men on listening-post had been shot; and so had an overcurious +sentry who peeped just an inch too far above a parapet. A shell had +burst in a trench, knocking the telephone connection out of gear and +half burying a squad of sleepers under a lot of earth. Otherwise, +things were drowsily dull. + +In a dugout sprawled Top-Sergeant Mahan,--formerly of Uncle Sam's +regular army, playing an uninspiring game of poker with Sergeant Dale +of his company and Sergeant Vivier of the French infantry. The +Frenchman was slow in learning poker's mysteries. + +And, anyway, all three men were temporarily penniless and were forced +to play for I.O.U's--which is stupid sport, at best. + +So when, from the German line, came a quick sputt-sputt-sputt from a +half-dozen sharpshooters' rifles, all three men looked up from their +desultory game in real interest. Mahan got to his feet with a grunt. + +"Some other fool has been trying to see how far he can rubber above the +sandbags without drawing boche fire," he hazarded, starting out to +investigate. "It's a miracle to me how a boche bullet can go through +heads that are so full of first-quality ivory as those rubberers'." + +But Mahan's strictures were quite unwarranted. The sharpshooters were +not firing at the parapet. Their scattering shots were flying high, and +hitting against the slope of the hill behind the trenches. + +Adown this shell-pocked hillside, as Mahan and the other disturbed +idlers gazed, came cantering a huge dark-brown-and-white collie. The +morning wind stirred the black stippling that edged his tawny fur, +showing the gold-gray undercoat beneath it. His white chest was like a +snowdrift, and offered a fine mark for the German rifles. A bullet or +two sang whiningly past his gayly up-flung head. + +A hundred voices from the Here-We-Come trenches hailed the advancing +dog. + +"Why, it's Bruce!" cried Mahan in glad welcome. "I might 'a' known he +or another of the collies would be along. I might 'a' known it, when +the telephones went out of commission. He--" + +"Regardez-donc!" interrupted the admiring Vivier. "He acts like bullets +was made of flies! Mooch he care for boche lead-pills, ce brave vieux!" + +"Yes," growled Dale worriedly; "and one of these days a bullet will +find its way into that splendid carcass of his. He's been shot at, a +thousand times, to my own knowledge. And all I ask is a chance, with a +rifle-butt, at the skull of the Hun who downs him!" + +"Downs Bruce?" queried Vivier in fine scorn. "The boche he is no borned +who can do it. Bruce has what you call it, in Ainglish, the 'charm +life.' He go safe, where other caniche be pepper-potted full of holes. +I've watch heem. I know." + +Unscathed by the several shots that whined past him, Bruce came to a +halt at the edge of a traverse. There he stood, wagging his plume of a +tail in grave friendliness, while a score of khaki-clad arms reached up +to lift him bodily into the trench. + +A sergeant unfastened the message from the dog's collar and posted off +to the colonel with it. + +The message was similar to one which had been telephoned to each of the +supporting bodies, to right and to left of the Here-We-Comes. It bade +the colonel prepare to withdraw his command from the front trenches at +nightfall, and to move back on the main force behind the hill-crest. +The front trenches were not important; and they were far too lightly +manned to resist a mass attack. Wherefore the drawing-in and +consolidating of the whole outflung line. + +Bruce, his work done now, had leisure to respond to the countless +offers of hospitality that encompassed him. One man brought him a slice +of cold broiled bacon. Another spread pork-grease over a bit of bread +and proffered it. A third unearthed from some sacredly guarded +hiding-place an excessively stale half-inch square of sweet chocolate. + +Had the dog so chosen, he might then and there have eaten himself to +death on the multitude of votive offerings. But in a few minutes he had +had enough, and he merely sniffed in polite refusal at all further +gifts. + +"See?" lectured Mahan. "That's the beast of it! When you say a fellow +eats or drinks 'like a beast,' you ought to remember that a beast won't +eat or drink a mouthful more than is good for him." + +"Gee!" commented the somewhat corpulent Dale. "I'm glad I'm not a +beast--especially on pay-day." + +Presently Bruce tired of the ovation tendered him. These ovations were +getting to be an old story. They had begun as far back as his +training-camp days--when the story of his joining the army was told by +the man to whom The Place's guest had written commending the dog to the +trainers' kindness. + +At the training-camp this story had been reenforced by the chief +collie-teacher--a dour little Hieland Scot named McQuibigaskie, who on +the first day declared that the American dog had more sense and more +promise and more soul "than a' t'other tykes south o' Kirkcudbright +Brae." + +Being only mortal, Bruce found it pleasanter to be admired and petted +than ignored or kicked. He was impersonally friendly with the soldiers, +when he was off duty; and he relished the dainties they were forever +thrusting at him. + +But at times his soft eyes would grow dark with homesickness for the +quiet loveliness of The Place and for the Mistress and the Master who +were his loyally worshiped gods. Life had been so happy and so sweetly +uneventful for him, at The Place! And there had been none of the awful +endless thunder and the bewilderingly horrible smells and gruesome +sights which here met him at every turn. + +The dog's loving heart used to grow sick with it all; and he longed +unspeakably for home. But he was a gallant soldier, and he did his work +not only well, but with a snap and a dash and an almost uncanny +intelligence which made him an idol to the men. + +Presently, now, having eaten all he wanted and having been patted and +talked to until he craved solitude, Bruce strolled ever to an empty +dugout, curled up on a torn blanket there, put his nose between his +white paws and went to sleep. + +The German artillery-fire had swelled from an occasional explosion to a +ceaseless roar, that made the ground vibrate and heave, and that beat +on the eardrums with nauseating iterance. But it did not bother Bruce. +For months he had been used to this sort of annoyance, and he had +learned to sleep snugly through it all. + +Meanwhile, outside his dugout, life was speeding up at a dizzying rate. +The German artillery had sprung to sudden and wholesale activity. Far +to the right of the Here-We-Come regiment's trenches a haze had begun +to crawl along the ground and to send snaky tendrils high in +air-tendrils that blended into a single grayish-green wall as they +moved forward. The hazewall's gray-green was shot by yellow and purple +tinges as the sun's weak rays touched it. To the left of the +Here-We-Comes, and then in front of them, appeared the same wall of +billowing gas. + +The Here-We-Comes were ready for it with their hastily donned masks. +But there was no need of the precaution. By one of the sudden +wind--freaks so common in the story of the war, the gas-cloud was cleft +in two by a swirling breeze, and it rolled dankly on, to right and +left, leaving the central trenches clear. + +Now, an artillery barrage, accompanied or followed by a +gas-demonstration, can mean but one thing: a general attack. Therefore +telephonic word came to the detachments to left and right of the +Here-We-Comes, to fall back, under cover of the gas-cloud, to safer +positions. Two dogs were sent, with the same order, to the +Here-We-Comes. (One of the dogs was gassed. A bit of shrapnel found the +other.) + +Thus it was that the Here-We-Comes were left alone (though they did not +know it), to hold the position,--with no support on either side, and +with a mere handful of men wherewith to stem the impending rush. + +On the heels of the dispersing gas-cloud, and straight across the +half-mile or less of broken ground, came a line of gray. In five +successive waves, according to custom, the boches charged. Each wave +hurled itself forward as fast as efficiency would let it, in face of +the opposing fire, and as far as human endurance would be goaded. Then +it went down, and its survivors attached themselves to the succeeding +wave. + +Hence, by the time the fifth and mightiest wave got into motion, it was +swelled by the survivors of all four of its predecessors and was an +all-but-resistless mass of shouting and running men. + +The rifles and machine-guns of the Here-We-Comes played merrily into +the advancing gray swarms, stopping wave after wave, and at last +checking the fifth and "master" wave almost at the very brink of the +Franco-American parapet. + +"That's how they do!" Mahan pantingly explained to a rather shaky +newcomer, as the last wave fell back. "They count on numbers and +bullrushes to get them there. If they'd had ten thousand men, in that +rush, instead of five thousand, they'd have got us. And if they had +twice as many men in their whole army as they have, they'd win this +war. But praise be, they haven't twice as many! That is one of the +fifty-seven reasons why the Allies are going to lick Germany." + +Mahan talked jubilantly. The same jubilation ran all along the line of +victors. But the colonel and his staff were not rejoicing. They had +just learned of the withdrawal of the forces to either side of them, +and they knew they themselves could not hope to stand against a second +and larger charge. + +Such a charge the enemy were certain to make. The Germans, too, must +soon learn of the defection of the supports. It was now only a question +of an hour or less before a charge with a double-enveloping movement +would surround and bag the Here-We-Comes, catching the whole regiment +in an inescapable trap. + +To fall back, now, up that long bare hillside, under full fire of the +augmented German artillery, would mean a decimating of the entire +command. The Here-We-Comes could not retreat. They could not hope to +hold their ground. The sole chance for life lay in the arrival of +strong reenforcements from the rear, to help them hold the trenches +until night, or to man the supporting positions. Reserves were within +easy striking distance. But, as happened so many times in the war, +there was no routine way to summon them in time. + +It was the chance sight of a crumpled message lying on his dugout-table +that reminded the colonel of Bruce's existence and of his presence in +the front trench. It was a matter of thirty seconds for the colonel to +scrawl an urgent appeal and a brief statement of conditions. Almost as +soon as the note was ready, an orderly appeared at the dugout entrance, +convoying the newly awakened Bruce. + +The all-important message was fastened in place. The colonel himself +went to the edge of the traverse, and with his own arms lifted the +eighty-pound collie to the top. + +There was tenderness as well as strength in the lifting arms. As he set +Bruce down on the brink, the colonel said, as if speaking to a +fellow-human: + +"I hate to do it, old chap. I HATE to! There isn't one chance in three +of your getting all the way up the hill alive. But there wouldn't be +one chance in a hundred, for a MAN. The boches will be on the lookout +for just this move. And their best sharpshooters will be waiting for +you--even if you dodge the shrapnel and the rest of the artillery. I'm +sorry! And--good-by." + +Then, tersely, he rasped out the command-- + +"Bruce! Headquarters! Headquarters! QUICK!" + +At a bound, the dog was gone. + +Breasting the rise of the hill, Bruce set off at a sweeping run, his +tawny-and-white mane flying in the wind. + +A thousand eyes, from the Here-We-Come trenches, watched his flight. +And as many eyes from the German lines saw the huge collie's dash up +the coverless slope. + +Scarce had Bruce gotten fairly into his stride when the boche bullets +began to sing--not a desultory little flurry of shots, as before; but +by the score, and with a murderous earnestness. When he had appeared, +on his way to the trenches, an hour earlier, the Germans had opened +fire on him, merely for their own amusement--upon the same merry +principle which always led them to shoot at an Ally war-dog. But now +they understood his all-important mission; and they strove with their +best skill to thwart it. + +The colonel of the Here-We-Comes drew his breath sharply between his +teeth. He did not regret the sending of the collie. It had been a move +of stark military necessity. And there was an off chance that it might +mean the saving of his whole command. + +But the colonel was fond of Bruce, and it angered him to hear the +frantic effort of the boche marksmen to down so magnificent a creature. +The bullets were spraying all about the galloping dog, kicking up tiny +swirls of dust at his heels and in front of him and to either side. + +Mahan, watching, with streaming eyes and blaspheming lips, recalled the +French sergeant's theory that Bruce bore a charmed life. And he prayed +that Vivier might be right. But in his prayer was very little faith. +For under such a fusillade it seemed impossible that at least one +highpower bullet should not reach the collie before the slope could be +traversed. A fast-running dog is not an easy mark for a +bullet--especially if the dog be a collie, with a trace of +wolf--ancestry in his gait. A dog, at best, does not gallop straight +ahead as does a horse. There is almost always a sidewise lilt to his +run. + +Bruce was still further aided by the shell-plowed condition of the +hillside. Again and again he had to break his stride, to leap some +shell-hole. Often he had to encircle such holes. More than once he +bounded headlong down into a gaping crater and scrambled up its far +side. These erratic moves, and the nine-hundred-yard distance (a +distance that was widening at every second) made the sharpshooters' +task anything but an exact science. + +Mahan's gaze followed the dog's every step. Bruce had cleared more than +three-fourths of the slope. The top-sergeant permitted himself the +luxury of a broad grin. + +"I'll buy Vivier all the red-ink wine he can gargle, next pay-day!" he +vowed. "He was dead right about the dog. No bullet was ever molded that +can get--" + +Mahan broke off in his exultation, with an explosive oath, as a new +note in the firing smote upon his trained hearing. + +"The swine!" he roared. "The filthy, unsportsmanly, dog-eating Prussian +swine! They're turning MACHINE-GUNS on him!" + +In place of the intermittent rattle of rifleshots now came the purring +cough of rapidfire guns. The bullets hit the upper hillside in swathes, +beginning a few yards behind the flying collie and moving upward toward +him like a sweeping of an unseen scythe. + +"That's the wind-up!" groaned Mahan. "Lord, send me an even break +against one of those Hun machinegunners some day! If--" + +Again Mahan failed to finish his train of thought. He stared +open-mouthed up the hill. Almost at the very summit, within a rod or +two of the point where the crest would intervene between him and his +foes, Bruce whirled in mid-air and fell prone. + +The fast-following swaths of machine-gun bullets had not reached him. +But another German enemy had. From behind a heap of offal, on the +crest, a yellow-gray dog had sprung, and had launched himself bodily +upon Bruce's flank as the unnoticing collie had flashed past him. + +The assailant was an enormous and hyena-like German police-dog. He was +one of the many of his breed that were employed (for work or food) in +the German camps, and which used to sneak away from their hard-kicking +soldier-owners to ply a more congenial trade as scavengers, and as +seekers for the dead. For, in traits as well as in looks, the +police-dog often emulates the ghoulish hyena. + +Seeing the approaching collie (always inveterate foe of his kind), the +police-dog had gauged the distance and had launched his surprise attack +with true Teuton sportsmanship and efficiency. Down went Bruce under +the fierce weight that crashed against his shoulder. But before the +other could gain his coveted throat-grip, Bruce was up again. Like a +furry whirlwind he was at the police-dog, fighting more like a wolf +than a civilized collie--tearing into his opponent with a maniac rage, +snapping, slashing; his glittering white fangs driving at a dozen +vulnerable points in a single second. + +It was as though Bruce knew he had no time to waste from his +life-and-death mission. He could not elude this enemy, so he must +finish him as quickly as possible. + +"Give me your rifle!" sputtered Mahan to the soldier nearest him. "I'll +take one potshot at that Prussian cur, before the machine-guns get the +two of 'em. Even if I hit Bruce by mistake, he'd rather die by a +Christian Yankee-made bullet than--" + +Just then the scythelike machine-gun fire reached the hillcrest +combatants. And in the same instant a shell smote the ground, +apparently between them. Up went a geyser of smoke and dirt and rocks. +When the cloud settled, there was a deep gully in the ground where a +moment earlier Bruce and the police-dog had waged their death-battle. + +"That settles it!" muttered the colonel. + +And he went to make ready for such puny defense as his men might hope +to put up against the German rush. + +While these futile preparations were still under way, terrific +artillery fire burst from the Allied batteries behind the hill, +shielding the Here-We-Come trenches with a curtain of fire whose lower +folds draped themselves right unlovingly around the German lines. Under +cover of this barrage, down the hill swarmed the Allied reserves! + +"How did you get word?" demanded the astonished colonel of the +Here-We-Comes, later in the day. + +"From your note, of course," replied the general he had questioned. +"The collie--old Bruce." + +"Bruce?" babbled the colonel foolishly. + +"Of course," answered the general. "Who else? But I'm afraid it's the +last message he'll ever deliver. He came rolling and staggering up to +headquarters--one mass of blood, and three inches thick with caked +dirt. His right side was torn open from a shell-wound, and he had two +machine-gun bullets in his shoulder. He's deaf as a post, too, from +shell-shock. He tumbled over in a heap on the steps of headquarters. +But he GOT there. That's Bruce, all over. That's the best type of +collie, all over. Some of us were for putting him out of his misery +with a shot through the head. We'd have done it, too, if it had been +any other dog. But the surgeon-general waded in and took a hand in the +game--carried Bruce to his own quarters. We left him working over the +dog himself. And he swears Bruce will pull through!" + + + +CHAPTER IV. When Eyes Were No Use + +"Yes, it's an easy enough trade to pick up," lectured Top-Sergeant +Mahan, formerly of the regular army. "You've just got to remember a few +things. But you've got to keep on remembering those few, all the time. +If you forget one of 'em, it's the last bit of forgetting you're ever +likely to do." + +Top-Sergeant Mahan, of the mixed French-and-American regiment known as +"Here-We-Come," was squatting at ease on the trench firing-step. From +that professorial seat he was dispensing useful knowledge to a group of +fellow-countrymen-newly arrived from the base, to pad the +"Here-We-Come" ranks, which had been thinned at the Rache attack. + +"What sort of things have we got to remember, Sergeant?" jauntily asked +a lanky Missourian. "We've got the drill pretty pat; and the trench +instructions and--" + +"Gee!" ejaculated Mahan. "I had no idea of that! Then why don't you +walk straight ahead into Berlin? If you know all you say you do, about +war, there's nothing more for you to learn. I'll drop a line to General +Foch and suggest to him that you rookies be detailed to teach the game +to us oldsters." + +"I didn't mean to be fresh," apologized the jaunty one. "Won't you go +ahead and tell us the things we need to remember?" + +"Well," exhorted Mahan, appeased by the newcomer's humility, "there +aren't so many of them, after all. Learn to duck, when you hear a +Minnie grunt or a whizzbang cut loose; or a five-nine begin to whimper. +Learn not to bother to duck when the rifles get to jabbering--for +you'll never hear the bullet that gets you. Study the nocturnal habits +of machine-guns and the ways of snipers and the right time not to play +the fool. And keep saying to yourself: 'The bullet ain't molded that +can get ME!' Mean it when you say it. When you've learned those few +things, the rest of the war-game is dead easy." + +"Except," timidly amended old Sergeant Vivier, the gray little +Frenchman, "except when eyes are--are what you call it, no use." +"That's right," assented Mahan. "In the times when eyes are no use, all +rules fail. And then the only thing you can do is to trust to your +Yankee luck. I remember--" + +"'When eyes are no use'?" repeated the recruit. "If you mean after +dark, at night--haven't we got the searchlights and the starshells and +all that?" + +"Son," replied Mahan, "we have. Though I don't see how you ever guessed +such an important secret. But since you know everything, maybe you'll +just kindly tell us what good all the lights in the world are going to +do us when the filthy yellow-gray fog begins to ooze up out of the mud +and the shell-holes, and the filthy gray mist oozes down from the +clouds to meet it. Fog is the one thing that all the war-science won't +overcome. A fogpenetrator hasn't been invented yet. If it had been, +there'd be many a husky lad living today, who has gone West, this past +few years, on account of the fogs. Fog is the boche's pet. It gives +Fritzy a lovely chance to creep up or, us. It--" + +"It is the helper of US, too," suggested old Vivier. "More than one +time, it has kept me safe when I was on patrol. And did it not help to +save us at Rache, when--" + +"The fog may have helped us, one per cent, at Rache," admitted Mahan. +"But Bruce did ninety-nine per cent of the saving." + +"A Scotch general?" asked the recruit, as Vivier nodded cordial +affirmation of Mahan's words, and as others of the old-timers muttered +approval. + +"No," contradicted Mahan. "A Scotch collie. If you were dry behind the +ears, in this life, you wouldn't have to ask who Bruce is." + +"I don't understand," faltered the rookie, suspicious of a possible +joke. + +"You will soon," Mahan told him. "Bruce will be here to-day. I heard +the K.O. saying the big dog is going to be sent down with some +dispatches or something, from headquarters. It's his first trip since +he was cut up so." + +"I am saving him--this!" proclaimed Vivier, disgorging from the flotsam +of his pocket a lump of once-white sugar. "My wife, she smuggle three +of these to me in her last paquet. One I eat in my cafe noir; one I +present to mon cher vieux, ce bon Mahan; one I keep for the grand dog +what save us all that day." + +"What's the idea?" queried the mystified rookie. "I don't--" + +"We were stuck in the front line of the Rache salient," explained +Mahan, eager to recount his dog-friend's prowess. "On both sides our +supports got word to fall back. We couldn't get the word, because our +telephone connection was knocked galley-west. There we were, waiting +for a Hun attack to wipe us out. We couldn't fall back, for they were +peppering the hillslope behind us. We were at the bottom. They'd have +cut us to ribbons if we'd shown our carcasses in the open. Bruce was +here, with a message he'd brought. The K.O. sent him back to +headquarters for the reserves. The boche heavies and snipers and +machine-guns all cut loose to stop him as he scooted up the hill. And a +measly giant of a German police dog tried to kill him, too. Bruce got +through the lot of them; and he reached headquarters with the SOS call +that saved us. The poor chap was cut and gouged and torn by bullets and +shell-scraps, and he was nearly dead from shell-shock, too. But the +surgeon general worked over him, himself, and pulled him back to life. +He--" + +"He is a loved pet of a man and a woman in your America, I have heard +one say," chimed in Vivier. "And his home, there, was in the quiet +country. He was lent to the cause, as a patriotic offering, ce brave! +And of a certainty, he has earned his welcome." + +When Bruce, an hour later, trotted into the trenches, on the way to the +"Here-We-Come" colonel's quarters, he was received like a visiting +potentate. Dozens of men hailed him eagerly by name as he made his way +to his destination with the message affixed to his collar. + +Many of these men were his well-remembered friends and comrades. Mahan +and Vivier, and one or two more, he had grown to like--as well as he +could like any one in that land of horrors, three thousand miles away +from The Place, where he was born, and from the Mistress and the +Master, who were his loyally worshiped gods. + +Moreover, being only mortal and afflicted with a hearty appetite, Bruce +loved the food and other delicacies the men were forever offering him +as a variation on the stodgy fare dished out to him and his fellow +war-dogs. + +As much to amuse and interest the soldiers whose hero he was, as for +any special importance in the dispatch he carried, Bruce had been sent +now to the trenches of the Here-We-Comes. It was his first visit to the +regiment he had saved, since the days of the Rache assault two months +earlier. Thanks to supremely clever surgery and to tender care, the dog +was little the worse for his wounds. His hearing gradually had come +back. In one shoulder he had a very slight stiffness which was not a +limp, and a new-healed furrow scarred the left side of his tawny coat. +Otherwise he was as good as new. + +As Bruce trotted toward the group that so recently had been talking of +him, the Missouri recruit watched with interest for the dog's joy at +this reunion with his old friends. Bruce's snowy chest and +black-stippled coat were fluffed out by many recent baths. His splendid +head high and his dark eyes bright, the collie advanced toward the +group. + +Mahan greeted him joyously. Vivier stretched out a hand which displayed +temptingly the long-hoarded lump of sugar. A third man produced, from +nowhere in particular, a large and meat-fringed soup-bone. + +"I wonder which of you he'll come to, first," said the interested +Missourian. + +The question was answered at once, and right humiliatingly. For Bruce +did not falter in his swinging stride as he came abreast of the group. +Not by so much as a second glance did he notice Mahan's hail and the +tempting food. + +As he passed within six inches of the lump of sugar which Vivier was +holding out to him, the dog's silken ears quivered slightly, sure sign +of hard-repressed emotion in a thoroughbred collie,--but he gave no +other manifestation that he knew any one was there. + +"Well, I'll be blessed!" snickered the Missourian in high derision, as +Bruce passed out of sight around an angle of the trench. "So that's the +pup who is such a pal of you fellows, is he? Gee, but it was a treat to +see how tickled he was to meet you again!" + +To the rookie's amazement none of his hearers seemed in the least +chagrined over the dogs chilling disregard of them. Instead, Mahan +actually grunted approbation. + +"He'll be back," prophesied the Sergeant. "Don't you worry. He'll be +back. We ought to have had more sense than try to stop him when he's on +duty. He has better discipline than the rest of us. That's one of very +first things they teach a courier-dog--to pay no attention to anybody, +when he's on dispatch duty. When Bruce has delivered his message to the +K.O., he'll have the right to hunt up his chums. And no one knows it +better'n Bruce himself." + +"It was a sin--a thoughtlessness--of me to hold the sugar at him," said +old Vivier. "Ah, but he is a so good soldier, ce brave Bruce! He look +not to the left nor yet to the right, nor yet to the so-desired +sugar-lump. He keep his head at attention! All but the furry tips of +his ears. Them he has not yet taught to be good soldiers. They tremble, +when he smell the sugar and the good soup-bone. They quiver like the +little leaf. But he keep on. He--" + +There was a scurry of fast-cantering feet. Around the angle of the +trench dashed Bruce. Head erect, soft dark eyes shining with a light of +gay mischief, he galloped up to the grinning Sergeant Vivier and stood. +The dog's great plume of a tail was wagging violently. His tulip ears +were cocked. His whole interest in life was fixed on the precious lump +of sugar which Vivier held out to him. + +From puppyhood, Bruce had adored lump sugar. Even at The Place, sugar +had been a rarity for him, for the Mistress and the Master had known +the damage it can wreak upon a dog's teeth and digestion. Yet, once in +a while, as a special luxury, the Mistress had been wont to give him a +solitary lump of sugar. + +Since his arrival in France, the dog had never seen nor scented such a +thing until now. Yet he did not jump for the gift. He did not try to +snatch it from Vivier. Instead, he waited until the old Frenchman held +it closer toward him, with the invitation: + +"Take it, mon vieux! It is for you." + +Then and then only did Bruce reach daintily forward and grip the grimy +bit of sugar between his mighty jaws. Vivier stroked the collie's head +while Bruce wagged his tail and munched the sugar and blinked +gratefully up at the donor. Mahan looked on, enviously. "A dog's got +forty-two teeth, instead of the thirty-two that us humans have to chew +on," observed the Sergeant. "A vet' told me that once. And sugar is bad +for all forty-two of 'em. Maybe you didn't know that, Monsoo Vivier? +Likely, at this rate, we'll have to chip in before long and buy poor +Brucie a double set of false teeth. Just because you've put his real +ones out of business with lumps of sugar!" + +Vivier looked genuinely concerned at this grim forecast. Bruce wandered +across to the place where the donor of the soup-bone brandished his +offering. Other men, too, were crowding around with gifts. + +Between petting and feeding, the collie spent a busy hour among his +comrades-at-arms. He was to stay with the "Here-We-Comes" until the +following day, and then carry back to headquarters a reconnaissance +report. + +At four o'clock that afternoon the sky was softly blue and the air was +unwontedly clear. By five o'clock a gentle India-summer haze blurred +the world's sharper outlines. By six a blanket-fog rolled in, and the +air was wetly unbreatheable. The fog lay so thick over the soggy earth +that objects ten feet away were invisible. + +"This," commented Sergeant Mahan, "is one of the times I was talking +about this morning--when eyes are no use. This is sure the country for +fogs, in war-time. The cockneys tell me the London fogs aren't a patch +on 'em." + +The "Here-We-Comes" were encamped, for the while, at the edge of a +sector from whence all military importance had recently been removed by +a convulsive twist of a hundred-mile battle-front. In this dull +hole-in-a-corner the new-arrived rivets were in process of welding into +the more veteran structure of the mixed regiment. + +Not a quarter-mile away--across No Man's Land and athwart two barriers +of barbed wire--lay a series of German trenches. Now, in all +probability, and from all outward signs, the occupants of this boche +position consisted only of a regiment or two which had been so badly +cut up, in a foiled drive, as to need a month of non-exciting routine +before going back into more perilous service. + +Yet the commander of the division to which the "Here-We-Comes" were +attached did not trust to probabilities nor to outward signs. He had +been at the front long enough to realize that the only thing likely to +happen was the thing which seemed unlikeliest. And he felt a morbid +curiosity to learn more about the personnel of those dormant German +trenches. + +Wherefore he had sent an order that a handful of the "Here-We-Comes" go +forth into No Man's Land, on the first favorable night, and try to pick +up a boche prisoner or two for questioning-purposes. A scouring of the +doubly wired area between the hostile lines might readily harvest some +solitary sentinel or some other man on special duty, or even the +occupants of a listening-post. And the division commander earnestly +desired to question such prisoner or prisoners. The fog furnished an +ideal night for such an expedition. + +Thus it was that a very young lieutenant and Sergeant Mahan and ten +privates--the lanky Missourian among them--were detailed for the +prisoner-seeking job. At eleven o'clock, they crept over the top, +single file. + +It was a night wherein a hundred searchlights and a million star-flares +would not have made more impression on the density of the fog than +would the striking of a safety match. Yet the twelve reconnoiterers +were instructed to proceed in the cautious manner customary to such +nocturnal expeditions into No Man's Land. They moved forward at the +lieutenant's order, tiptoeing abreast, some twenty feet apart from one +another, and advancing in three-foot strides. At every thirty steps the +entire line was required to halt and to reestablish contact--in other +words, to "dress" on the lieutenant, who was at the extreme right. + +This maneuver was more time-wasting and less simple than its recital +would imply. For in the dark, unaccustomed legs are liable to +miscalculation in the matter of length of stride, even when shell-holes +and other inequalities of ground do not complicate the calculations +still further. And it is hard to maintain a perfectly straight line +when moving forward through choking fog and over scores of obstacles. + +The halts for realignment consumed much time and caused no little +confusion. Nervousness began to encompass the Missouri recruit. He was +as brave as the next man. But there is something creepy about walking +with measured tread through an invisible space, with no sound but the +stealthy pad-pad-pad of equally hesitant footsteps twenty feet away on +either side. The Missourian was grateful for the intervals that brought +the men into mutual contact, as the eerie march continued. + +The first line of barbed wire was cut and passed. Then followed an +endless groping progress across No Man's Land, and several delays, as +one man or another had trouble in finding contact with his neighbor. + +At last the party came to the German wires. The lieutenant had drawn on +a rubber glove. In his gloved hand he grasped a strip of steel which he +held in front of him, like a wand, fanning the air with it. + +As he came to the entanglement, he probed the barbed wire carefully +with his wand, watching for an ensuing spark. For the Germans more than +once had been known to electrify their wires, with fatal results to +luckless prowlers. + +These wires, to-night, were not charged. And, with pliers, the +lieutenant and Mahan started to cut a passageway through them. + +As the very first strand parted under his pressure, Mahan laid one hand +warningly on the lieutenant's sleeve, and then passed the same +prearranged warning down the line to the left. + +Silence--moveless, tense, sharply listening silence--followed his +motion. Then the rest of the party heard the sound which Mahan's keener +ears had caught a moment earlier--the thud of many marching feet. Here +was no furtive creeping, as when the twelve Yankees had moved along. +Rather was it the rhythmic beat of at least a hundred pairs of +shapeless army boots--perhaps of more. The unseen marchers were moving +wordlessly, but with no effort at muffling the even tread of their +multiple feet. + +"They're coming this way!" breathed Sergeant Mahan almost without +sound, his lips close to the excited young lieutenant's ear. "And +they're not fifty paces off. That means they're boches. So near the +German wire, our men would either be crawling or else charging, not +marching! It's a company--maybe a battalion--coming back from a +reconnaissance, and making for a gap in their own wire some where near +here. If we lay low there's an off chance they may pass us by." + +Without awaiting the lieutenant's order, Mahan passed along the signal +for every man to drop to earth and lie there. He all but forced the +eagerly gesticulating lieutenant to the ground. + +On came the swinging tread of the Germans. Mahan, listening +breathlessly, tried to gauge the distance and the direction. He +figured, presently, that the break the Germans had made in their wire +could be only a few yards below the spot where he and the lieutenant +had been at work with the pliers. Thus the intruders, from their +present course, must inevitably pass very close to the prostrate +Americans--so close, perhaps, as to brush against the nearest of them, +or even to step on one or more of the crouching figures. + +Mahan whispered to the man on his immediate left, the rookie from +Missouri: + +"Edge closer to the wire--close as you can wiggle, and lie flat. Pass +on the word." + +The Missourian obeyed. Before writhing his long body forward against +the bristly mass of wire he passed the instructions on to the man at +his own left. + +But his nerves were at breaking-point. + +It had been bad enough to crawl through the blind fog, with the ghostly +steps of his comrades pattering softly at either side of him. But it +was a thousand times harder to lie helpless here, in the choking fog +and on the soaked ground, while countless enemies were bearing down, +unseen, upon him, on one side, and an impenetrable wire cut off his +retreat on the other. + +The Missourian had let his imagination begin to work; always a mistake +in a private soldier. He was visualizing the moment when this tramping +German force should become aware of the presence of their puny foes and +should slaughter them against the merciless wires. It would not be a +fair stand-up fight, this murder-rush of hundreds of men against twelve +who were penned in and could not maneuver nor escape. And the thought +of it was doing queer things to the rookie's overwrought nerves. + +Having passed the word to creep closer to the wires, he began to +execute the order in person, with no delay at all. But he was a +fraction of a second too late. The Germans were moving in +hike-formation with "points" thrown out in advance to either side--a +"point" being a private soldier who, for scouting and other purposes, +marches at some distance from the main body. + +The point, ahead of the platoon, had swerved too far to the left, in +the blackness--an error that would infallibly have brought him up +against the wires, with considerable force, in another two steps. But +the Missourian was between him and the wires. And the point's +heavy-shod foot came down, heel first, on the back of the rookie's +out-groping hand. Such a crushing impact, on the hand-back, is one of +the most agonizing minor injuries a man can sustain. And this fact the +Missourian discovered with great suddenness. + +His too-taut nerves forced from his throat a yell that split the +deathly stillness with an ear-piercing vehemence. He sprang to his +feet, forgetful of orders intent only on thrusting his bayonet through +the Hun who had caused such acute torture to his hand. Half way up, the +rookie's feet went out from under him in the slimy mud. He caromed +against the point, then fell headlong. + +The German, doubtless thinking he had stumbled upon a single stray +American scout, whirled his own rifle aloft, to dash out the brains of +his luckless foe. But before the upflung butt could descend,--before +the rookie could rise or dodge,--the point added his quota to the rude +breaking of the night's silence. He screamed in panic terror, dropped +his brandished gun and reeled backward, clawing at his own throat. + +For out of the eerie darkness, something had launched itself at +him--something silent and terrible, that had flown to the Missourian's +aid. Down with a crash went the German, on his back. He rolled against +the Missourian, who promptly sought to grapple with him. + +But even as he clawed for the German, the rookie's nerves wrung from +him a second yell--this time less of rage than of horror. + +"Sufferin' cats!" he bellowed. "Why didn't anybody ever tell me Germans +was covered with fur instead of clothes?" + +The boche platoon was no longer striding along in hike-formation. It +was broken up into masses of wildly running men, all of them bearing +down upon the place whence issued this ungodly racket and turmoil. +Stumbling, reeling, blindly falling and rising again, they came on. + +Some one among them loosed a rifle-shot in the general direction of the +yelling. A second and a third German rifleman followed the example of +the first. From the distant American trenches, one or two snipers began +to pepper away toward the enemy lines, though the fog was too thick for +them, to see the German rifle-flashes. + +The boches farthest to the left, in the blind rush, fouled with the +wires. German snipers, from behind the Hun parapets, opened fire. A +minute earlier the night had been still as the grave. Now it fairly +vibrated with clangor. All because one rookie's nerves had been less +staunch than his courage, and because that same rookie had not only had +his hand stepped on in the dark, but had encountered something swirling +and hairy when he grabbed for the soldier who had stepped on him! + + +The American lieutenant, at the onset of the clamor, sprang to his +feet, whipping out his pistol; his dry lips parted in a command to +charge--a command which, naturally, would have reduced his eleven men +and himself to twelve corpses or to an equal number of mishandled +prisoners within the next few seconds. But a big hand was clapped +unceremoniously across the young officer's mouth, silencing the +half-spoken suicidal order. + +Sergeant Mahan's career in the regular army had given him an almost +uncanny power of sizing up his fellowmen. And he had long ago decided +that this was the sort of thing his untried lieutenant would be likely +to do, in just such an emergency. Wherefore his flagrant breach of +discipline in shoving his palm across the mouth of his superior officer. + +And as he was committing this breach of discipline, he heard the +Missourian's strangled gasp of: + +"Why didn't anybody ever tell me Germans was covered with fur?" + +In a flash Mahan understood. Wheeling, he stooped low and flung out +both arms in a wide-sweeping circle. Luckily his right hand's +fingertips, as they completed the circle, touched something fast-moving +and furry. + +"Bruce!" he whispered fiercely, tightening his precarious grip on the +wisp of fur his fingers had touched. "Bruce! Stand still, boy! It's YOU +who's got to get us clear of this! Nobody else, short of the good Lord, +can do it!" + +Bruce had had a pleasantly lazy day with his friends in the first-line +trenches. There had been much good food and more petting. And at last, +comfortably tired of it all, he had gone to sleep. He had awakened in a +most friendly mood, and a little hungry. Wherefore he had sallied forth +in search of human companionship. He found plenty of soldiers who were +more than willing to talk to him and make much of him. But, a little +farther ahead, he saw his good friend, Sergeant Mahan, and others of +his acquaintances, starting over the parapet on what promised to be a +jolly evening stroll. + +All dogs find it hard to resist the mysterious lure of a walk in human +companionship. True, the night was not an ideal one for a ramble, and +the fog had a way of congealing wetly on Bruce's shaggy coat. Still, a +damp coat was not enough of a discomfort to offset the joy of a stroll +with his friends. So Bruce had followed the twelve men quietly into No +Man's Land, falling decorously into step behind Mahan. + +It had not been much of a walk, for speed or for fun. For the humans +went ridiculously slowly, and had an eccentric way of bunching +together, every now and again, and then of stringing out into a +shambling line. Still, it was a walk, and therefore better than loafing +behind in the trenches. And Bruce had kept his noiseless place at the +Sergeant's heels. + +Then--long before Mahan heard the approaching tramp of feet--Bruce +caught not only the sound but the scent of the German platoon. The +scent at once told him that the strangers were not of his own army. A +German soldier and an American soldier--because of their difference in +diet as well as for certain other and more cogent reasons--have by no +means the same odor, to a collie's trained scent, nor to that of other +breeds of war-dogs. Official records of dog-sentinels prove that. + +Aliens were nearing Bruce's friends. And the dog's ruff began to stand +up. But Mahan and the rest seemed in no way concerned in spirit +thereby--though, to the dog's understanding, they must surely be aware +of the approach. So Bruce gave no further sign of displeasure. He was +out for a walk, as a guest. He was not on sentry-duty. + +But when the nearest German was almost upon them, and all twelve +Americans dropped to the ground, the collie became interested once +more. A German stepped on the hand of one of his newest friends. And +the friend yelled in pain. Whereat the German made as if to strike the +stepped-on man. + +This was quite enough for loyal Bruce. Without so much as a growl of +warning, he jumped at the offender. + +Dog and man tumbled earthward together. Then after an instant of flurry +and noise, Bruce felt Mahan's fingers on his shoulder and heard the +stark appeal of Mahan's whispered voice. Instantly the dog was a +professional soldier once more--alertly obedient and resourceful. + +"Catch hold my left arm, Lieutenant!" Mahan was exhorting. "Close up, +there, boys--every man's hand grabbing tight to the shoulder of the man +on his left! Pass the word. And you, Missouri, hang onto the +Lieutenant! Quick, there! And tread soft and tread fast, and don't let +go, whatever happens! Not a sound out of any one! I'm leading the way. +And Bruce is going to lead me." + +There was a scurrying scramble as the men groped for one another. Mahan +tightened his hold on Bruce's mane. + +"Bruce!" he said, very low, but with a strength of appeal that was not +lost on the listening dog. "Bruce! Camp! Back to CAMP! And keep QUIET! +Back to camp, boy! CAMP!" + +He had no need to repeat his command so often and so strenuously. Bruce +was a trained courier. The one word "Camp!" was quite enough to tell +him what he was to do. + +Turning, he faced the American lines and tried to break into a gallop. +His scent and his knowledge of direction were all the guides he needed. +A dog always relies on his nose first and his eyes last. The fog was no +obstacle at all to the collie. He understood the Sergeant's order, and +he set out at once to obey it. + +But at the very first step, he was checked. Mahan did not release that +feverishly tight hold on his mane, but merely shifted to his collar. + +Bruce glanced back, impatient at the delay. But Mahan did not let go. +Instead he said once more: + +"CAMP, boy!" + +And Bruce understood he was expected to make his way to camp, with +Mahan hanging on to his collar. + +Bruce did not enjoy this mode of locomotion. It was inconvenient, and +there seemed no sense in it; but there were many things about this +strenuous war-trade that Bruce neither enjoyed nor comprehended, yet +which he performed at command. + +So again he turned campward, Mahan at his collar and an annoyingly +hindering tail of men stumbling silently on behind them. All around +were the Germans--butting drunkenly through the blanket-dense fog, +swinging their rifles like flails, shouting confused orders, +occasionally firing. Now and then two or more of them would collide and +would wrestle in blind fury, thinking they had encountered an American. + +Impeded by their own sightlessly swarming numbers, as much as by the +impenetrable darkness, they sought the foe. And but for Bruce they must +quickly have found what they sought. Even in compact form, the +Americans could not have had the sheer luck to dodge every scattered +contingent of Huns which starred the German end of No Man's Land--most +of them between the fugitives and the American lines. + +But Bruce was on dispatch duty. It was his work to obey commands and to +get back to camp at once. It was bad enough to be handicapped by +Mahan's grasp on his collar. He was not minded to suffer further delay +by running into any of the clumps of gesticulating and cabbage-reeking +Germans between him and his goal. So he steered clear of such groups, +making several wide detours in order to do so. Once or twice he stopped +short to let some of the Germans grope past him, not six feet away. +Again he veered sharply to the left--increasing his pace and forcing +Mahan and the rest to increase theirs--to avoid a squad of thirty men +who were quartering the field in close formation, and who all but +jostled the dog as they strode sightlessly by. An occasional rifle-shot +spat forth its challenge. From both trench-lines men were firing at a +venture. A few of the bullets sang nastily close to the twelve huddled +men and their canine leader. Once a German, not three yards away, +screamed aloud and fell sprawling and kicking, as one such chance +bullet found him. Above and behind, sounded the plop of star-shells +sent up by the enemy in futile hope of penetrating the viscid fog. And +everywhere was heard the shuffle and stumbling of innumerable boots. + +At last the noise of feet began to die away, and the uneven groping +tread of the twelve Americans to sound more distinctly for the +lessening of the surrounding turmoil. And in another few seconds Bruce +came to a halt--not to an abrupt stop, as when he had allowed an enemy +squad to pass in front of him, but a leisurely checking of speed, to +denote that he could go no farther with the load he was helping to haul. + +Mahan put out his free hand. It encountered the American wires. Bruce +had stopped at the spot where the party had cut a narrow path through +the entanglement on the outward journey. Alone, the dog could easily +have passed through the gap, but he could not be certain of pulling +Mahan with him. Wherefore the halt. + + * * * * * + +The last of the twelve men scrambled down to safety, in the American +first-line trench, Bruce among them. The lieutenant went straight to +his commanding officer, to make his report. Sergeant Mahan went +straight to his company cook, whom he woke from a snoreful sleep. +Presently Mahan ran back to where the soldiers were gathered admiringly +around Bruce. + +The Sergeant carried a chunk of fried beef, for which he had just given +the cook his entire remaining stock of cigarettes. + +"Here you are, Bruce!" he exclaimed. "The best in the shop is none too +good for the dog that got us safe out of that filthy mess. Eat hearty!" + +Bruce did not so much as sniff at the (more or less) tempting bit of +meat. Coldly he looked up at Mahan. Then, with sensitive ears laid flat +against his silken head, in token of strong contempt, he turned his +back on the Sergeant and walked away. + +Which was Bruce's method of showing what he thought of a human fool who +would give him a command and who would then hold so tightly to him that +the dog could hardly carry out the order. + + + +CHAPTER V. The Double Cross + +In the background lay a landscape that had once been beautiful. In the +middle distance rotted a village that had once been alive. In the +foreground stood an edifice that had once been a church. The +once-beautiful landscape had the look of a gigantic pockmarked face, so +scored was it by shell-scar and crater. Its vegetation was swept away. +Its trees were shattered stumps. Its farmsteads were charred piles of +rubble. + +The village was unlike the general landscape, in that it had never been +beautiful. In spite of globe-trotters' sentimental gush, not all +villages of northern France were beautiful. Many were built for thrift +and for comfort and for expediency; not for architectural or natural +loveliness. + +But this village of Meran-en-Laye was not merely deprived of what +beauty it once might or might not have possessed. Except by courtesy it +was no longer a village at all. It was a double row of squalid ruins, +zig-zagging along the two sides of what was left of its main street. +Here and there a cottage or tiny shop or shed was still habitable. The +rest was debris. + +The church in the foreground was recognizable as such by the shape and +size of its ragged walls, and by a half-smashed image of the Virgin and +Child which slanted out at a perilous angle above its façade. + +Yet, miserable as the ruined hamlet seemed to the casual eye, it was at +present a vacation-resort--and a decidedly welcome one--to no less than +three thousand tired men. The wrecked church was an impromptu hospital +beneath whose shattered roof dozens of these men lay helpless on +makeshift cots. + +For the mixed American and French regiment known as the "Here-We-Comes" +was billeted at Meran-en-Laye during a respite from the rigors and +perils of the front-line trenches. + +The rest and the freedom from risks, supposed to be a part of the +"billeting" system, were not wholly the portion of the "Here-We Comes." +Meran--en--Laye was just then a somewhat important little speck on the +warmap. + +The Germans had been up to their favorite field sport of trying to +split in half two of the Allied armies, and to roll up each, +independently. The effort had been a failure; yet it had come so near +to success that many railway communications were cut off or deflected. +And Meran-en-Laye had for the moment gained new importance, by virtue +of a spur railway-line which ran through its outskirts and which made +junction with a new set of tracks the American engineers were +completing. Along this transverse of roads much ammunition and food and +many fighting men were daily rushed. + +The safety of the village had thus become of much significance. While +it was too far behind the lines to be in grave danger of enemy raids, +yet such danger existed to some extent. Wherefore the presence of the +"Here-We-Comes"--for the paradoxical double purpose of "resting up" and +of guarding the railway Function. + +Still, it was better than trench-work; and the "Here-We-Comes" enjoyed +it--for a day or so. Then trouble had set in. + +A group of soldiers were lounging on the stone seat in front of the +village estaminet. Being off duty, they were reveling in that popular +martial pastime known to the Tommy as "grousing" and to the Yankee +doughboy as "airing a grouch." + +Top-Sergeant Mahan, formerly of the regular army, was haranguing the +others. Some listened approvingly, others dissentingly and others not +at all. + +"I tell you," Mahan declared for the fourth time, "somebody's +double-crossing us again. There's a leak. And if they don't find out +where it is, a whole lot of good men and a million dollars' worth of +supplies are liable to spill out through that same leak. It--" + +"But," argued his crony, old Sergeant Vivier, in his hard-learned +English, "but it may all be of a chance, mon vieux. It may, not be the +doubled cross,--whatever a doubled cross means,--but the mere chance. +Such things often--" + +"Chance, my grandmother's wall-eyed cat!" snorted Mahan. "Maybe it +might have been chance--when this place hadn't been bombed for a +month--for a whole flight of boche artillery and airship grenades to +cut loose against it the day General Pershing happened to stop here for +an hour on his way to Chateau-Thierry. Maybe that was chance--though I +know blamed well it wasn't. Maybe it was chance that the place wasn't +bombed again till two days ago, when that troop-train had to spend such +a lot of time getting shunted at the junction. Maybe it was chance that +the church, over across the street, hadn't been touched since the last +drive, till our regiment's wounded were put in it--and that it's been +hit three times since then. Maybe any one of those things--and of a +dozen others was chance. But it's a cinch that ALL of them weren't +chance. Chance doesn't work that way. I--" + +"Perhaps," doubtfully assented old Vivier, "perhaps. But I little like +to believe it. For it means a spy. And a spy in one's midst is like to +a snake in one's blankets. It is a not pleasing comrade. And it stands +in sore need of killing." + +"There's spies everywhere," averred Mahan. "That's been proved often +enough. So why not here? But I wish to the Lord I could lay hands on +him! If this was one of the little sheltered villages, in a valley, his +work would be harder. And the boche airships and the long-rangers +wouldn't find us such a simple target. But up here on this ridge, all a +spy has to do is to flash a signal, any night, that a boche airman can +pick up or that can even be seen with good glasses from some high point +where it can be relayed to the German lines. The guy who laid out this +burg was sure thoughtless. He might have known there'd be a war some +day. He might even have strained his mind and guessed that we'd be +stuck here. Gee!" + +He broke off with a grunt of disgust; nor did he so much as listen to +another of the group who sought to lure him into an opinion as to +whether the spy might be an inhabitant of the village or a +camp-follower. + +Sucking at his pipe; the Sergeant glowered moodily down the ruined +street. The village drowsed under the hot midday. Here and there a +soldier lounged along aimlessly or tried out his exercise-book French +on some puzzled, native. Now and then an officer passed in or out of +the half-unroofed mairie which served as regimental headquarters. + +Beyond, in the handkerchief-sized village square, a platoon was +drilling. A thin French housewife was hanging sheets on a line behind a +shell-twisted hovel. A Red Cross nurse came out of the hospital-church +across the street from the estaminet and seated herself on the stone +steps with a basketful of sewing. + +Mahan's half-shut eyes rested critically on the drilling +platoon--amusedly on the woman who was so carefully hanging the ragged +sheets,--and then approvingly upon the Red Cross nurse on the church +steps across the way. + +Mahan, like most other soldiers, honored and revered the Red Cross for +its work of mercy in the army. And the sight of one of the several +local nurses of the Order won from him a glance of real approbation. + +But presently into his weather-beaten face came an expression of glad +welcome. Out of the mairie gate and into the sleepy warmth of the +street lounged a huge dark-brown-and-white collie. The don stretched +himself lazily, fore and aft, in true collie style, then stood gazing +about him as if in search of something of interest to occupy his bored +attention. + +"Hello!" observed Mahan, breaking in on a homily of Vivier's. "There's +Bruce!" + +Vivier's leathery face brightened at sound of the collie's name. He +looked eagerly in the direction of Mahan's pointing finger. + +"Ce brave!" exclaimed the Frenchman. "I did not know even that he was +in the village. It must be he is but new-arriven. Otherwise he would, +of an assuredly, have hunted up his old friends. Ohe, Bruce!" he called +invitingly. + +"The big dog must have gotten here just a few minutes ago," said +Sergeant Mahan. "He was coming out of headquarters when I saw him. That +must mean he's just struck the town, and with a message for the K.O. He +always goes like greased lightning when he's on dispatch duty, till he +has delivered his message. Then, if he's to be allowed to hang around a +while before he's sent back, he loafs, lazy-like; the way you see him +now. If all the courier-dogs were like him, every human courier would +be out of a job." + +At Vivier's hail the great collie had pricked his ears and glanced +inquiringly up and down the street. Catching sight of the group seated +in front of the estaminet, he began to wag his plumy tail and set off +toward them at a trot. + +Ten minutes earlier, Bruce had cantered into Meran-en-Laye from the +opposite end of the street, bearing in his collar a dispatch from the +corps commander to the colonel of the "Here-We-Comes." The colonel, at +the mairie, had read the dispatch and had patted its bearer; then had +bidden the dog lie down and rest, if he chose, after his long run. + +Instead, Bruce had preferred to stroll out in search of friends. + +Top-Sergeant Mahan, by the way, would have felt highly flattered had he +chanced to get a glimpse of the dispatch Bruce had brought to the +colonel. For it bore out Mahan's own theory regarding the presence of +spies at or near the village, and it bade the "Here-We-Come" colonel +use every means for tracing them. + +It added the information that three troop-trains with nine engines were +to pass through the village that night on their way to the trenches, +and that the trains were due at the junction at nine o'clock or shortly +thereafter. The mairie was on the other side of the street from the +estaminet. Incidentally, it was on the shady side of the street--for +which reason Bruce,--being wise, and the day being hot,--remained on +that side, until he should come opposite the bench where his friends +awaited him. + +His course, thus, brought him directly past the church. + +As he trotted by the steps, the Red Cross nurse, who sat sewing there, +chirped timidly at him. Bruce paused in his leisurely progress to see +who had accosted him whether an old acquaintance, to be greeted as +such, or merely a pleasantly inclined stranger. + +His soft brown eyes rested first in idle inquiry upon the angular and +white-robed figure on the steps. Then, on the instant, the friendly +inquiring look left his eyes and their softness went with it--leaving +the dog's gaze cold and frankly hostile. + +One corner of Bruce's lips slowly lifted, revealing a tiny view of the +terrible white fangs behind them. His gayly erect head was lowered, and +in the depths of his furry throat a growl was born. When a dog barks +and holds his head up, there is little enough to fear from him. But +when he lowers his head and growl--then look out. + +Mahan knew dogs. In stark amazement he now noted Bruce's strange +attitude toward the nurse. Never before had he seen the dog show active +hostility toward a stranger--least of all toward a stranger who had in +no way molested him. It was incredible that the wontedly dignified and +sweet-tempered collie had thus returned a greeting. Especially from a +woman! + +Mahan had often seen Red Cross nurses stop to caress Bruce. He had been +amused at the dog's almost protective cordiality toward all women, +whether the French peasants or the wearers of the brassard of mercy. + +Toward men--except those he had learned to look on as friends--the +collie always comported himself with a courteous aloofness But he had +seemed to regard every woman as something to be humored and guarded and +to be treated with the same cordial friendliness that he bestowed on +their children--which is the way of the best type of collie. Yet Bruce +had actually snarled at this woman who had chirped to him from the +steps of the church! And he showed every sign of following up the +challenge by still more drastic measures. + +"Bruce!" called Mahan sharply. "BRUCE! Shame! Come over here! Come, +NOW!" + +At the Sergeant's vehement summons Bruce turned reluctantly away from +the foot of the church steps and came across the street toward the +estaminet. He came slowly. Midway he halted and looked back over his +shoulder at the nurse, his fangs glinting once more in a snarl. At a +second and more emphatic call from Mahan the dog continued his progress. + +The nurse had started back in alarm at the collie's angry +demonstration. Now, gathering up her work, she retreated into the +church. + +"I'm sorry, Miss!" Mahan shouted after her. "I never saw him that way, +before, when a lady spoke to him. If it was any dog but old Bruce, I'd +give him a whaling for acting like that to you. I'm dead-sure he didn't +mean any harm." + +"Oh, I was going in, anyway," replied the nurse, from the doorway. "It +is of no consequence." + +She spoke nervously, her rich contralto voice shaken by the dog's +fierce show of enmity. Then she vanished into the church; and Mahan and +Vivier took turns in lecturing Bruce on his shameful dearth of courtesy. + +The big dog paid no heed at all to his friends' discourse. He was +staring sullenly at the doorway through which the nurse had gone. + +"That's one swell way for a decently bred dog to treat a woman!" Mahan +was telling him. "Least of all, a Red Cross nurse! I'm clean ashamed of +you!" + +Bruce did not listen. In his heart he was still angry--and very much +perplexed as well. For he knew what these stupid humans did not seem to +know. + +HE KNEW THE RED CROSS NURSE WAS NO WOMAN AT ALL, BUT A MAN. + +Bruce knew, too, that the nurse did not belong to his loved friends of +the Red Cross. For his uncanny power of scent told him the garments +worn by the impostor belonged to some one else. To mere humans, a small +and slender man, who can act, and who dons woman's garb, is a woman. To +any dog, such a man is no more like a woman than a horse with a +lambskin saddle-pad is a lamb. He is merely a man who is differently +dressed from other men--even as this man who had chirped to Bruce, from +the church steps, was no less a man for the costume in which he had +swathed his body. Any dog, at a glance and at a sniff, would have known +that. + +Women, for one thing, do not usually smoke dozens of rank cigars daily +for years, until their flesh is permeated with the smell of tobacco. A +human could not have detected such a smell--such a MAN-smell,--on the +person who had chirped to Bruce. Any dog, twenty feet away, would have +noticed it, and would have tabulated the white-clad masquerader as a +man. Nor do a woman's hair and skin carry the faint but unmistakable +odor of barracks and of tent-life and of martial equipment, as did this +man's. The masquerader was evidently not only a man but a soldier. + +Dogs,--high-strung dogs,--do not like to have tricks played on them; +least of all by strangers. Bruce seemed to take the nurse-disguise as a +personal affront to himself. Then, too, the man was not of his own +army. On the contrary, the scent proclaimed him one of the horde whom +Bruce's friends so manifestly hated--one of the breed that had more +than once fired on the dog. + +Diet and equipment and other causes give a German soldier a markedly +different scent, to dogs' miraculously keen nostrils,--and to those of +certain humans,--from the French or British or American troops. War +records prove this. Once having learned the scent, and having learned +to detest it, Bruce was not to be deceived. + +For all these reasons he had snarled loathingly at the man in white. +For these same reasons he could not readily forget the incident, but +continued every now and then to glance curiously across toward the +church. + +Presently,--not relishing the rebukes of the friends who had heretofore +pestered him by overmuch petting,--the collie arose quietly from his +couch of trampled earth at the foot of the stone bench and strolled +back across the street. Most of the men were too busy, talking, to note +Bruce's departure. But Sergeant Mahan caught sight of him just as the +dog was mounting the last of the steps leading into the church. + +As a rule, when Bruce went investigating, he walked carelessly and with +his tail slightly a-wag. Now his tail was stiff as an icicle, and he +moved warily, on the tips of his toes. His tawny-maned neck was low. +Mahan, understanding dogs, did not like the collie's demeanor. +Remembering that the nurse had entered the church a few minutes +earlier, the Sergeant got to his feet and hastily followed Bruce. + +The dog, meanwhile, had passed through the crazily splintered doorway +and had paused on the threshold of the improvised hospital, as the reek +of iodoform and of carbolic smote upon his sensitive nostrils. In front +of him was the stone-paved vestibule. Beyond was the interior of the +shattered church, lined now with double rows of cots. + +Seated on a camp-chair in the shadowy vestibule was the pseudo Red +Cross nurse. At sight of the collie the nurse got up in some haste. +Bruce, still walking stiff-legged, drew closer. + +Out from under the white skirt flashed a capable and solidly-shod foot. +In a swinging kick, the foot let drive at the oncoming dog. Before +Bruce could dodge or could so much as guess what was coming,--the kick +smote him with agonizing force, square on the shoulder. + +To a spirited collie, a kick carries more than the mere pain of its +inflicting. It is a grossly unforgivable affront as well--as many a +tramp and thief have learned, at high cost. + +By the time the kick had fairly landed, Bruce had recovered from his +instant of incredulous surprise; and with lightning swiftness he hurled +himself at his assailant. + +No bark or growl heralded the murderous throatlunge. It was all the +more terrible for the noiselessness wherewith it was delivered. The +masquerading man saw it coming, just too late to guard against it. He +lurched backward, belatedly throwing both hands up to defend his +throat. It was the involuntary backward step which saved his jugular. +For his heel caught in the hem of his white skirt. And wholly off +balance, he pitched headlong to the floor. + +This jerky shift of position, on the part of the foe, spoiled Bruce's +aim. His fearful jaws snapped together harmlessly in empty air at a +spot where, a fraction of a second earlier, the other's throat had +been. Down crashed the disguised man. And atop of him the furious dog +hurled himself, seeking a second time the throatgrip he had so narrowly +missed. + +At this point on the program Sergeant Mahan arrived just in time to +bury both hands in the mass of Bruce's furry ruff and to drag the +snarlingly rabid dog back from his prey. + +The place was in an uproar. Nurses and doctors came rushing out into +the vestibule; sick and wounded men sat up on their cots and eagerly +craned their necks to catch sight of the scrimmage. Soldiers ran in +from the street. + +Strong as he was, Mahan had both hands full in holding the frantic +Bruce back from his enemy. Under the insult of the kick from this +masquerader, whom he had already recognized as a foe, the collie had +temporarily lost every vestige of his stately dignity. He was for the +moment merely a wild beast, seeking revenge for a brutal injury. He +writhed and fought in Mahan's grasp. Never once did he seek to attack +the struggling man who held him. But he strained every giant sinew to +get at the foe who had kicked him. + +The dog's opponent scrambled to his feet, helped by a dozen willing +hands and accosted by as many solicitous voices. The victim's face was +bone-gray with terror. His lips twitched convulsively. Yet, as befitted +a person in his position, he had a splendid set of nerves. And almost +at once he recovered partial control over himself. + +"I--I don't know how it happened," he faltered, his rich contralto +voice shaky with the ground-swells of his recent shock. "It began when +I was sitting on the steps, sewing. This dog came past. He growled at +me so threateningly that I came indoors. A minute later, while I was +sitting here sewing, he sprang at me and threw me down. I believe he +would--would have killed me," the narrator finished, with a very +genuine shudder, "if I had not been rescued when I was. Such +bloodthirsty brutes ought to be shot!" + +"He not only OUGHT to be," hotly agreed the chief surgeon, "but he is +GOING to be. Take him out into the street, one of you men, and put a +ball in his head." + +The surgeon turned to the panting nurse. + +"You're certain he didn't hurt you?" he asked. "I don't want a +newcomer, like yourself, to think this is the usual treatment our +nurses get. Lie down and rest. You look scared to death. And don't be +nervous about the cur attacking you again. He'll be dead inside of +three minutes." + +The nurse, with a mumbled word of thanks, scuttled off into the rear of +the church, where the tumbledown vestry had been fitted up as a +dormitory. + +Bruce had calmed down somewhat under Mahan's sharp reproof. But he now +struggled afresh to get at his vanished quarry. And again the Sergeant +had a tussle to hold him. + +"I don't know what's got into the big fellow!" exclaimed Mahan to +Vivier as the old Frenchman joined the tumultuous group. "He's gone +clean daft. He'd of killed that poor woman, if I hadn't--" + +"Get him out of here!" ordered the surgeon. "And clear out, yourselves, +all of you! This rumpus has probably set a lot of my patients' +temperatures to rocketing. Take the cur out and shoot him!" + +"Excuse me, sir," spoke up Mahan, as Vivier stared aghast at the man +who commanded Bruce's destruction, "but he's no cur. He's a +courier-collie, officially in the service of the United States +Government. And he's the best courier-dog in France to-day. This is--" + +"I don't care what he is!" raged the surgeon. "He--" + +"This is Bruce," continued Mahan, "the dog that saved the +'Here-We-Comes' at Rache, and that steered a detail of us to safety one +night in the fog, in the Chateau-Thierry sector. If you order any man +of the 'Here-We-Comes' to shoot Bruce, you're liable to have a mutiny +on your hands--officer or no officer. But if you wish, sir, I can +transmit your order to the K.O. If he endorses it--" + +But the surgeon sought, at that moment, to save the remnants of his +dignity and of a bad situation by stalking loftily back into the +hospital, and leaving Mahan in the middle of his speech. + +"Or, sir," the Sergeant grinningly called after him, "you might write +to the General Commanding, and tell him you want Bruce shot. The Big +Dog always sleeps in the general's own room, when he's off-duty, at +Division Headquarters. Maybe the general will O.K. his death-sentence, +if you ask him to. He--" + +Somewhat quickening his stately stride, the surgeon passed out of +earshot. At the officers' mess of the "Here-We-Comes," he had often +heard Bruce's praises sung. He had never chanced to see the dog until +now. But, beneath his armor of dignity, he quaked to think what the +results to himself must have been, had he obeyed his first impulse of +drawing his pistol and shooting the adored and pricelessly useful +collie. + +Mahan,--stolidly rejoicing in his victory over the top-lofty potentate +whom he disliked,--led the way out of the crowded vestibule into the +street. Bruce followed demurely at his heels and Vivier bombarded +everybody in sight for information as to what the whole fracas was +about. + +Bruce was himself again. Now that the detested man in woman's clothes +had gone away, there was no sense in continuing to struggle or to waste +energy in a show of fury. Nevertheless, in his big heart burned +deathless hatred toward the German who had kicked him. And, like an +elephant, a collie never forgets. + +"But," Vivier was demanding of everybody, "but why should the gentle +Bruce have attacked a good nurse? It is not what you call 'make-sense.' +C'est un gentilhomme, ce vieux! He would not attack a woman less still +a sister of the Red Cross. He--" + +"Of course he wouldn't," glumly assented the downhearted Mahan. "But he +DID. That's the answer. I saw him do it. He knocked her down and--" + +"Which nurse was she?" asked a soldier who had come up after the +trouble was over. + +"A new one here. I don't know her name. She came last week. I saw her +when she got here. I was on duty at the K.O.'s office when she +reported. She had a letter from some one on the surgeon-general's +staff. But why Bruce should have gone for her to-day--or for any +woman--is more than I can see. She was scared half to death. It's lucky +she heard the surgeon order him shot. She'll suppose he's dead, by now. +And that'll cure her scare. We must try to keep Bruce away from this +end of the street till he goes back to headquarters to-morrow." + +As a result Bruce was coaxed to Mahan's company-shed and by dint of +food-gifts and petting was induced to spend most of the day there. + +At sunset Bruce tired of his dull surroundings. Mahan had gone on duty; +so had Vivier; so had others of his friends. The dog was bored and +lonely. Also he had eaten much. And a walk is good, not only for +loneliness, but for settling an overfull stomach. Bruce decided to go +for a walk. + +Through the irregular street of the village he picked his way, and on +toward the open country beyond. A sentry or two snapped fingers of +greeting to him as he strolled past them. The folk of the village eyed +his bulk and graceful dignity with something like awe. + +Beyond the hamlet the ridge of hilltop ran on for perhaps a +quarter-mile before dipping into the plain below. At one end of this +little plateau a company of infantry was drilling. Bruce recognized +Mahan among the marching lines, but he saw his friend was on duty and +refrained from going up to him. + +Above, the sunset sky was cloudless. Like tiny specks, miles to +eastward, a few enemy airships circled above the heap of clustered +hills which marked the nearest German position. The torn-up plain, +between, seemed barren of life. So, at first, did the farther end of +the jutting ridge on which the village was perched. But presently +Bruce's idly wandering eye was caught by a flutter of white among some +boulders that clumped together on the ridge's brow farthest from the +village. + +Some one--a woman, from the dress--was apparently picking her way +through the boulders. As Bruce moved forward, a big rock shut her off +from his view and from the view of the hamlet and of the maneuvering +infantry company a furlong away. + +Just then a puff of breeze blew from eastward toward the collie; and it +bore to him a faint scent that set his ruff a-bristle and his soft +brown eyes ablaze. To a dog, a scent once smelled is as recognizable +again as is the sight of a once-seen face to a human. Bruce set off at +a hand-gallop toward the clump of boulders. + +The Red Cross nurse, whom Bruce had so nearly killed, was off duty +until the night-shift should go on at the hospital. The nurse had taken +advantage of this brief surcease from toil, by going for a little walk +in the cool sunset air, and had carried along a bag of sewing. + +Up to three months ago this nurse had been known as Heinrich Stolz, and +had been a valued member of the Wilhelmstrasse's workingforce of secret +agents. Then, acting under orders, Herr Heinrich Stolz had vanished +from his accustomed haunts. Soon thereafter a Red Cross nurse--Felicia +Stuart by name had reported for duty at Paris, having been transferred +thither from Italy, and bearing indubitable credentials to that effect. + +From carefully picked-up information Stolz had just learned of the +expected arrival of the three troop-trains at the junction at nine that +evening. The tidings had interested him keenly, and he knew of other +people to whom they would be far more interesting. + +Seating himself under the lee of the easternmost rock, Stolz primly +opened his sewing-bag and drew forth various torn garments. The +garments were for the most part white, but one or two were of gaudy +colors. + +By way of precaution, in case of discovery, the spy threaded a needle. +Thus, if any one should chance to see him shake out a garment, +preparatory to laying it on his knee and mending it, there could be no +reasonable cause for suspicion. Herr Stolz was nothing if not efficient. + +He held up the needle and poked the thread at its eye in truly feminine +fashion. + +He had just finished this feat of dexterity when he chanced to look up +from his work at sound of fast-pattering feet. Not thirty feet away, +charging head on at him, rushed the great brown-and-white collie he +supposed had been shot. + +With a jump of abject terror, Herr Stolz sprang up. Mingled with his +normal fear of the dog was a tinge of superstitious dread. He had been +so certain the beast was shot! The doctor had given the order for his +killing. The doctor was a commissioned officer. Stolz's German mind +could not grasp the possibility of a soldier disobeying an officer's +imperative command. + +The collie was upon him by the time the spy gained his feet. Stolz +reached frantically under his dress-folds for the deadly little pistol +that he always kept there. But he was still a novice in the mysteries +of feminine apparel. And, before his fingers could close on the weapon, +Bruce's bared fangs were gleaming at his throat. + +Stolz ceased to search for the weapon. And, as before, he threw up both +frantic hands to ward off the furious jaws. + +He was barely in time. Bruce's white teeth drove deep into the spy's +forearm, and Bruce's eighty pounds of furry muscular bulk smote Stolz +full in the chest. Down went the spy, under the terrific impact, +sprawling wildly on his back, and fighting with both bleeding hands to +push back the dog. + +Bruce, collie-fashion, did not stick to one grip, but bit and slashed a +dozen times in three seconds, tearing and rending his way toward the +throat-hold he craved; driving through flesh of hands and of forearms +toward his goal. + +Like many another German, Stolz was far more adept at causing pain than +at enduring it. Also, from birth, he had had an unconquerable fear of +dogs. His nerves, too, were not yet recovered from Bruce's attack +earlier in the day. All this, and the spectral suddenness of the +onslaught, robbed him of every atom of his usual stony self-control. + +Sergeant Mahan was a good soldier. Yet a minute earlier he had almost +ruined his reputation as such. He had been hard put to it to refrain +from leaving the ranks of his drilling company, a furlong from the +rocks, and running at record speed toward the boulders. For he had seen +the supposed nurse pass that way. And almost directly afterward he had +seen Bruce follow her thither. And he could guess what would happen. + +Luckily for the sake of discipline, the order of "Break ranks!" was +given before Mahan could disgrace himself by such unmartial behavior. +And, on the instant, the Sergeant broke into a run in the direction of +the rocks. + +Wondering at his eccentric action, several of the soldiers followed. +The company captain, at sight of a knot of his men dashing at breakneck +speed toward the boulders, started at a more leisurely pace in the same +direction. + +Mahan had reached the edge of the rocks when his ears were greeted by a +yell of mortal fear. The captain and the rest, catching the sound, went +faster. Screech after screech rang from the rocky enclosure. + +Mahan rounded the big boulder at the crest of the ridge and flung +himself upon the two combatants, as they thrashed about in a tumultuous +dual mass on the ground. And just then Bruce at last found his grip on +Stolz's throat. + +A stoical German signal-corps officer, on a hilltop some miles to +eastward, laid aside his field-glass and calmly remarked to a man at +his side + +"We have lost a good spy!" + +Such was the sole epitaph and eulogy of Herr Heinrich Stolz, from his +army. + +Meantime, Sergeant Mahan was prying loose the collie's ferocious jaws +from their prey and was tugging with all his might to drag the dog off +the shrieking spy. The throat-hold, he noted, was a bare inch from the +jugular. + +The rest of the soldiers, rushing up pell-mell, helped him pull the +infuriated Bruce from his victim. The spectacle of their admired +dog-hero, so murderously mauling a woman of the Red Cross, dazed them +with horror. + +"Take him AWAY!" bellowed Stolz, delirious with pain and fear. "He's +KILLED me--der gottverdammte Teufelhund!" + +And now the crazed victim's unconscious use of German was not needed to +tell every one within hearing just who and what he was. For the +quavering tones were no longer a rich contralto. They were a throaty +baritone. And the accent was Teutonic. + +"Bruce!" observed Top-Sergeant Mahan next morning, "I've always said a +man who kicks a dog is more of a cur than the dog is. But you'll never +know how near I came to kicking you yesterday, when I caught you +mangling that filthy spy. And Brucie, if I had kicked you, well--I'd be +praying at this minute that the good Lord would grow a third leg on me, +so that I could kick myself all the way from here to Berlin!" + + + +CHAPTER VI. The Werewolf + +When Bruce left the quiet peace of The Place for the hell of the +Western Front, it had been stipulated by the Mistress and the Master +that if ever he were disabled, he should be shipped back to The Place, +at their expense. + +It was a stipulation made rather to soothe the Mistress's sorrow at +parting from her loved pet than in any hope that it could be fulfilled; +for the average life of a courierdog on the battle-front was tragically +short. And his fate was more than ordinarily certain. If the boche +bullets and shrapnel happened to miss him, there were countless +diseases--bred of trench and of hardship and of abominable food--to +kill him. + +The Red Cross appeal raised countless millions of dollars and brought +rescue to innumerable human warriors. But in caring for humans, the +generosity of most givers reached its limit; and the Blue Cross--"for +the relief of dogs and horses injured in the service of the +Allies"--was forced to take what it could get. Yet many a man, and many +a body of men, owed life and safety to the heroism of some war-dog, a +dog which surely merited special care when its own certain hour of +agony struck. + +Bruce's warmest overseas friends were to be found in the ranks of the +mixed Franco-American regiment, nicknamed the "Here-We-Comes." Right +gallantly, in more than one tight place, had Bruce been of use to the +"Here-We-Comes." On his official visits to the regiment, he was always +received with a joyous welcome that would have turned any head less +steady than a thoroughbred collie's. + +Bruce enjoyed this treatment. He enjoyed, too, the food-dainties +wherewith the "Here-We-Comes" plied him. But to no man in the army +would he give the adoring personal loyalty he had left at The Place +with the Mistress and the Master. Those two were still his only gods. +And he missed them and his sweet life at The Place most bitterly. Yet +he was too good a soldier to mope. + + * * * * * + +For months the "Here-We-Comes" had been quartered in a "quiet"--or only +occasionally tumultuous--sector, near Chateau-Thierry. Then the +comparative quiet all at once turned to pandemonium. + +A lanky and degenerate youth (who before the war had been unlovingly +known throughout Europe as the "White Rabbit" and who now was mentioned +in dispatches as the "Crown Prince") had succeeded in leading some +half-million fellow-Germans into a "pocket" that had lately been merely +a salient. + +From the three lower sides of the pocket, the Allies ecstatically flung +themselves upon their trapped foes in a laudable effort to crush the +half-million boches and their rabbit-faced princeling into surrender +before the latter could get out of the snare, and to the shelter of the +high ground and the reenforcements that lay behind it. The Germans +objected most strenuously to this crushing process. And the three +beleaguered edges of the pocket became a triple-section of hell. + +It was a period when no one's nerves were in any degree normal--least +of all the nerves of the eternally hammered Germans. Even the fiercely +advancing Franco-Americans, the "Here-We-Comes," had lost the grimly +humorous composure that had been theirs, and waxed sullen and ferocious +in their eagerness. + +Thus it was that Bruce missed his wontedly uproarious welcome as he +cantered, at sunset one July day, into a smashed farmstead where his +friends, the "Here-We-Comes," were bivouacked for the night. By +instinct, the big dog seemed to know where to find the temporary +regimental headquarters. + +He trotted past a sentry, into an unroofed cattle-shed where the +colonel was busily scribbling a detailed report of the work done by the +"Here-We-Comes" during that day's drive. + +Coming to a halt by the colonel's side, Bruce stood expectantly wagging +his plumy tail and waiting for the folded message from division +headquarters to be taken off his collar. + +Usually, on such visits, the colonel made much of the dog. To-day he +merely glanced up abstractedly from his writing, at sight of Bruce's +silken head at his side. He unfastened the message, read it, frowned +and went on with his report. + +Bruce continued to wag his tail and to look up wistfully for the wonted +petting and word of commendation. But the colonel had forgotten his +existence. So presently the collie wearied of waiting for a caress from +a man whose caresses, at best, he did not greatly value. He turned and +strolled out of the shed. His message delivered, he knew he was at +liberty to amuse himself as he might choose to, until such time as he +must carry back to his general a reply to the dispatch he had brought. + +From outside came the voices of tired and lounging soldiers. A +traveling kitchen had just been set up near by. From it arose a blend +of smells that were mighty tempting to a healthily hungry dog. Thither, +at a decorous but expectant pace, Bruce bent his steps. + +Top-Sergeant Mahan was gazing with solicitous interest upon the toil of +the cooks at the wheeled kitchen. Beside him, sharing his concern in +the supper preparations, was Mahan's closest crony, old Sergeant +Vivier. The wizened little Frenchman, as a boy, had been in the +surrender of Sedan. Nightly, ever since, he had besought the saints to +give him, some day, a tiny share in the avenging of that black disgrace. + +Mahan and Vivier were the warmest of Bruce's many admirers in the +"Here-We-Comes." Ordinarily a dual whoop of joy from them would have +greeted his advent. This afternoon they merely chirped abstractedly at +him, and Mahan patted him carelessly on the head before returning to +the inspection of the cooking food. + +Since an hour before dawn, both men had been in hot action. The command +for the "Here-We-Comes" to turn aside and bivouac for the night had +been a sharp disappointment to them, as well as to every unwounded man +in the regiment. + +When a gambler is in the middle of a winning streak, when an athlete +feels he has the race in his own hands, when a business man has all but +closed the deal that means fortune to him--at such crises it is +maddening to be halted at the very verge of triumph. But to soldiers +who, after months of reverses, at last have their hated foe on the run, +such a check does odd things to temper and to nerves. + +In such plight were the men of the "Here-We-Comes," on this late +afternoon. Mahan and Vivier were too seasoned and too sane to give way +to the bursts of temper and the swirls of blasphemy that swayed so many +of their comrades. Nevertheless they were glum and silent and had no +heart for jolly welcomings,--even to so dear a friend as Bruce. + +Experience told them that a square meal would work miracles in the way +of calming and bracing them. Hence, apart from stark hunger, their +interest in the cooking of supper. + +Bruce was too much a philosopher--and not devoted enough to his soldier +friends--to be hurt at the lack of warmth in the greeting. With the air +of an epicure, he sniffed at the contents of one of the kitchen's +bubbling kettles. Then he walked off and curled himself comfortably on +a pile of bedding, there to rest until supper should be ready. + +Several times, as he lay there, soldiers passed and repassed. One or +two of them snapped their fingers at the dog or even stooped, in +passing, to stroke his head. But on the faces of all of them was unrest +and a certain wolfish eagerness, which precluded playing with pets at +such a time. The hot zest of the man-hunt was upon them. It was gnawing +in the veins of the newest recruit, ever, as in the heart of the +usually self-contained colonel of the regiment. + +The colonel, in fact, had been so carried away by the joy of seeing his +men drive the hated graycoats before them that day that he had +overstepped the spirit of his own orders from the division commander. + +In brief, he had made no effort to "dress" his command, in the advance, +upon the regiments to either side of it. As a result, when the signal +to bivouac for the night was given, the "Here-We-Comes" were something +like a mile ahead of the regiment which should have been at their +immediate right, and nearly two miles in front of the brigade at their +left. + +In other words, the "Here-We-Comes" now occupied a salient of their +own, ahead of the rest of the FrancoAmerican line. It was in rebuke for +this bit of good progress and bad tactics that the division commander +had written to the colonel, in the dispatch which Bruce had brought. + +German airmen, sailing far above, and dodging as best they could the +charges of the Allied 'planes, had just noted that the "Here-We-Comes" +"salient" was really no salient at all. So far had it advanced that, +for the moment, it was out of touch with the rest of the division. It +was, indeed, in an excellent position to be cut off and demolished by a +dashing nightattack. And a report to this effect was delivered to a +fumingly distracted German major general, who yearned for a chance to +atone in some way for the day's shameful reverses. + +"If they hadn't halted us and made us call it a day, just as we were +getting into our stride," loudly grumbled one Yankee private to another +as the two clumped up to the kitchen, "we'd have been in +Fere-en-Tardenois by now. What lazy guy is running this drive, anyhow?" + +"The same lazy guy that will stick you into the hoosgow for +insubordination and leave you to do your bit there while the rest of us +stroll on to Berlin!" snapped Top-Sergeant Mahan, wheeling upon the +grumbler. "Till you learn how to obey orders without grouching, it +isn't up to you to knock wiser men. Shut up!" + +Though Mahan's tone of reproof was professionally harsh, his spirit was +not in his words. And the silenced private knew it. He knew, too, that +the top-sergeant was as savage over the early halt as were the rest of +the men. + +Bruce, as a rule, when he honored the "Here-We-Comes" with a visit, +spent the bulk of his time with Mahan and old Vivier. But to-day +neither of these friends was an inspiring companion. Nor were the rest +of Bruce's acquaintances disposed to friendliness. Wherefore, as soon +as supper was eaten, the dog returned to his heap of bedding, for the +hour or so of laziness which Nature teaches all her children to demand, +after a full meal,--and which the so-called "dumb" animals alone are +intelligent enough to take. + +Dusk had merged into night when Bruce got to his feet again. Taps had +just sounded. The tired men gladly rolled themselves into their +blankets and fell into a dead sleep. A sentry-relief set forth to +replace the first batch of sentinels with the second. + +Mahan was of the party. Though the top-sergeant had been a stupid +comrade, thus far to-day, he was now evidently going for a walk. And +even though it was a duty-walk, yet the idea of it appealed to the dog +after his long inaction. + +So Bruce got up and followed. As he came alongside the stiffly marching +top-sergeant, the collie so far subverted discipline as to thrust his +nose, in friendly greeting, into Mahan's slightly cupped palm. And the +top-sergeant so far abetted the breach of discipline as to give the +collie's head a furtive pat. The night was dim, as the moon had not +risen; so the mutual contact of good-fellowship was not visible to the +marching men on either side of Mahan and the dog. And discipline, +therefore, did not suffer much, after all. + +At one post after another, a sentinel was relieved and a fresh man took +his place. Farthest in front of the "Here-We-Comes" lines--and nearest +to the German--was posted a lanky Missourian whom Bruce liked, a man +who had a way of discovering in his deep pockets stray bits of food +which he had hoarded there for the collie and delighted to dole out to +him. The Missourian had a drawlingly soft voice the dog liked, and he +used to talk to Bruce as if the latter were another human. + +For all these reasons--and because Mahan was too busy and too grumpy to +bother with him--Bruce elected to stay where he was, for a while, and +share the Missourian's vigil. So, when the rest of the party moved +along to the next sentry-go, the dog remained. The Missourian was only +too glad to have him do so. It is tedious and stupid to pace a desolate +beat, alone, at dead of night, after a day of hard fighting. And the +man welcomed the companionship of the dog. + +For a time, as the Missourian paced his solitary stretch of broken and +shrub-grown ground, Bruce gravely paced to and fro at his side. But +presently this aimless promenade began to wax uninteresting. And, as +the two came to the far end of the beat, Bruce yawned and lay down. It +was pleasanter to lie there and to watch the sentinel do the walking. + +Stretched out, in a little grass-hollow, the dog followed blinkingly +with his soft brown eyes the pendulumlike progress of his friend. And +always the dog's plumed tail would beat rhythmic welcome against the +ground as the sentry approached him. + +Thus nearly an hour wore on. A fat moon butted its lazy way through the +smoke-mists of the eastern skyline. + +Then something happened--something that Bruce could readily have +forestalled if the wind had been blowing from the other direction, and +if a dog's eyes were not as nearsighted as his nose is farsmelling. + +The Missourian paused to run his hand caressingly over the collie's +rough mane, and moved on, down the lonely beat. Bruce watched his +receding figure, drowsily. At the end of ninety yards or more, the +Missourian passed by a bunch of low bushes which grew at the near side +of a stretch of hilly and shellpocked ground. He moved past the bushes, +still watched by the somewhat bored dog. + +It was then that Bruce saw a patch of bushshadow detach itself from the +rest, under the glow of the rising moon. The shadow was humpy and +squat. Noiseless, it glided out from among the bushes, close at the +sentry's heels, and crept after him. + +Bruce pricked his ears and started to get up. His curiosity was roused. +The direction of the wind prevented him from smelling out the nature of +the mystery. It also kept his keen hearing from supplying any clue. And +the distance would not permit him to see with any distinctness. + +Still his curiosity was very mild. Surely, if danger threatened, the +sentinel would realize it. For by this time the Shadow was a bare three +feet behind him near enough, by Bruce's system of logic, for the +Missourian to have smelled and heard the pursuer. So Bruce got up, in +the most leisurely fashion, preparatory to strolling across to +investigate. But at almost his first step he saw something that changed +his gracefully slouching walk into a charging run. + +The Shadow suddenly had merged with the sentinel. For an instant, in +stark silence, the two seemed to cling together. Then the Shadow fled, +and the lanky Missourian slumped to the earth in a sprawling heap, his +throat cut. + +The slayer had been a deft hand at the job. No sound had escaped the +Missourian, from the moment the stranglingly tight left arm had been +thrown around his throat from behind until, a second later, he fell +bleeding and lifeless. + +In twenty leaping strides, Bruce came up to the slain sentinel and bent +over him. Dog-instinct told the collie his friend had been done to +death. And the dog's power of scent told him it was a German who had +done the killing. + +For many months, Bruce had been familiar with the scent of German +soldiers, so different from that of the army in which he toiled. And he +had learned to hate it, even as a dog hates the vague "crushed +cucumber" smell of a pitviper. But while every dog dreads the +viper-smell as much as he loathes it, Bruce had no fear at all of the +boche odor. Instead, it always awoke in him a blood-lust, as fierce as +any that had burned in his wolf-ancestors. + +This same fury swept him now, as he stood, quivering, above the body of +the kindly man who so lately had petted him; this and a craving to +revenge the murder of his human friend. + +For the briefest time, Bruce stood there, his dark eyes abrim with +unhappiness and bewilderment, as he gazed down on the huddled form in +the wet grass. Then an electric change came over him. The softness fled +from his eyes, leaving them bloodshot and blazing. His great tawny ruff +bristled like an angry cat's. The lazy gracefulness departed from his +mighty body. It became tense and terrible. In the growing moonlight his +teeth gleamed whitely from under his upcurled lip. + +In a flash he turned and set off at a loping run, nose close to ground, +his long stride deceptively swift. The zest of the man-hunt had +obsessed him, as completely as, that day, it had spurred the advance of +the "Here-We-Comes." + +The trail of the slayer was fresh, even over such broken ground. Fast +as the German had fled, Bruce was flying faster. Despite the murderer's +long start, the dog speedily cut down the distance between his quarry +and himself. Not trusting to sight, but solely to his unerring sense of +smell. Bruce sped on. + +Then, in a moment or two, his hearing re-enforced his scent. He could +catch the pad-pad-pad of running feet. And the increasing of the sound +told him he was gaining fast. + +But in another bound his ears told him something else--something he +would have heard much sooner, had not the night wind been setting so +strongly in the other direction. He heard not only the pounding of his +prey's heavy-shod feet, but the soft thud of hundreds--perhaps +thousands--of other army shoes. And now, despite the adverse wind, the +odor of innumerable soldiers came to his fiercely sniffing nostrils. +Not only was it the scent of soldiers, but of German soldiers. + +For the first time, Bruce lifted his head from the ground, as he ran, +and peered in front of him. The moon had risen above the low-lying +horizon vapors into a clear sky, and the reach of country was sharply +visible. + +Bruce saw the man he was chasing,--saw him plainly. The German was +still running, but not at all as one who flees from peril. He ran, +rather, as might the bearer of glad tidings. And he was even now +drawing up to a group of men who awaited eagerly his coming. There must +have been fifty men in the group. Behind them--in open formation and as +far as the dog's near-sighted eyes could see--were more men, and more, +and more--thousands of them, all moving stealthily forward. + +Now, a collie (in brain, though never in heart) is much more wolf than +dog. A bullterrier, or an Airedale, would have charged on at his foe, +and would have let himself be hacked to pieces before loosing his hold +on the man. + +But--even as a wolf checks his pursuit of a galloping sheep when the +latter dashes into the guarded fold--Bruce came to an abrupt halt, at +sight of these reenforcements. He stood irresolute, still mad with +vengeful anger, but not foolish enough to assail a whole brigade of +armed men. + +It is quite impossible (though Mahan and Vivier used to swear it must +be true) that Bruce had the reasoning powers to figure out the whole +situation which confronted him. He could not have known that a German +brigade had been sent to take advantage of the "Here-We-Comes" +temporarily isolated position--that three sentries had been killed in +silence and that their deaths had left a wide gap through which the +brigade hoped to creep unobserved until they should be within striking +distance of their unsuspectingly slumbering victims. + +Bruce could not have known this. He could not have grasped the +slightest fraction of the idea, being only a real-life dog and not a +fairytale animal. But what he could and did realize was that a mass of +detested Germans was moving toward him, and that he could not hope to +attack them, single-handed; also, that he was not minded to slink +peacefully away and leave his friend unavenged. + +Thwarted rage dragged from his furry throat a deep growl; a growl that +resounded eerily through that silent place of stealthy moves. And he +stepped majestically forth from the surrounding long grass, into the +full glare of moonlight. + +The deceptive glow made him loom gigantic and black, and tinged his +snowy chest with the phosphorous gleam of a snowfield. His eyes shone +like a wild beast's. + + * * * * * + +Corporal Rudolph Freund, of the Konigin Luise Regiment, had just +finished his three-word report to his superior. He had merely saluted +and announced + +"He is dead!" + +Corporal Freund did not thrill, as usual, to the colonel's grunt of +approval. The Corporal was worried. He was a Black Forest peasant; and, +while iron military life had dulled his native superstitions, it had +not dispelled them. + +The night was mystic, in its odd blend of moon and shadows. However +hardened one may be, it is a nerve-strain to creep through long grass, +like a red Indian, to the murder of a hostile sentinel. And every +German in the "Pocket" had been under frightful mental and physical +stress, for the past week. + +Corporal Rudolph Freund was a brave man and a brute. But that week had +sapped his nerve. And the work of this night had been the climax. The +desolate ground, over which he had crawled to the killing, had suddenly +seemed peopled with evil gnomes and goblins, whose existence no true +Black Forest peasant can doubt. And, on the run back, he had been +certain he heard some unseen monster tearing through the underbrush in +hot pursuit of him. So certain had he been, that he had redoubled his +speed. + +There were no wolves or other large wild animals in that region. When +he had wriggled toward the slow-pacing American sentinel, he had seen +and heard no creature of any sort. Yet he was sure that on the way back +he had been pursued by--by Something! And into his scared memory, as he +ran, had flashed the ofttold Black Forest tale of the Werewolf--the +devil--beast that is entered by the soul of a murdered man and which +tracks the murderer to his death. + +Glad was the unnerved Corporal Freund when his run ceased and he stood +close to his grossly solid and rank-scented fellowmen once more. Almost +he was inclined to laugh at his fears of the fabled Werewolf--and +especially at the idea that he had been pursued. He drew a long breath +of relief. He drew the breath in. But he did not at once expel it. For +on his ears came the sound of a hideous menacing growl. + +Corporal Freund spun about, in the direction of the mysterious threat. +And there, not thirty feet from him, in the ghostly moonlight, stood +the Werewolf! + +This time there could be no question of overstrained nerves and of +imagination. The Thing was THERE! + +Horribly visible in every detail, the Werewolf was glaring at him. He +could see the red glow of the gigantic devil-beast's eyes, the white +flash of its teeth, the ghostly shimmering of its snowy chest. The soul +of the man he had slain had taken this traditional form and was hunting +down the slayer! A thousand stories of Freund's childhood verified the +frightful truth. And overwrought human nature's endurance went to +pieces under the shock. + +A maniac howl of terror split the midnight stillness. Shriek after +shriek rent the air. Freund tumbled convulsively to the ground at his +colonel's feet, gripping the officer's booted knees and screeching for +protection. The colonel, raging that the surprise attack should be +imperiled by such a racket, beat the frantic man over the mouth with +his heavy fist, kicking ferociously at his upturned writhing face, and +snarling to him to be silent. + +The shower of blows brought Freund back to sanity, to the extent of +changing his craven terror into Fear's secondary phase--the impulse to +strike back at the thing that had caused the fright. Rolling over and +over on the ground, under the impact of his superior's fist blows and +kicks, Freund somehow regained his feet. + +Reeling up to the nearest soldier, the panic-crazed corporal snatched +the private's rifle and fired three times, blindly, at Bruce. Then, +foaming at the mouth, Freund fell heavily to earth again, chattering +and twitching in a fit. + +Bruce, at the second shot, leaped high in the air, and collapsed, in an +inert furry heap, among the bushes. There he lay,--his career as a +courier-dog forever ended. + +Corporal Rudolph Freund was perhaps the best sniper in his regiment. +Wildly though he had fired, marksman-instinct had guided his bullets. +And at such close range there was no missing. Bruce went to earth with +one rifle ball through his body, and another in his leg. A third had +reached his skull. + +Now, the complete element of surprise was all-needful for the attack +the Germans had planned against the "Here-We-Comes." Deprived of that +advantage the expedition was doomed to utter failure. For, given a +chance to wake and to rally, the regiment could not possibly be +"rushed," in vivid moonlight, before the nearest Allied forces could +move up to its support. And those forces were only a mile or so to the +rear. There can be no possible hope for a surprise attack upon a +well-appointed camp when the night's stillness has been shattered by a +series of maniac screams and by three echoing rifle-shots. + +Already the guard was out. A bugle was blowing. In another minute, the +sentry-calls would locate the gap made by the three murdered sentinels. + +A swift guttural conference among the leaders of the gray-clad +marauders was followed by the barking of equally guttural commands. And +the Germans withdrew as quietly and as rapidly as they had come. + + * * * * * + +It was the mouthing and jabbering of the fit-possessed Corporal Rudolph +Freund that drew to him the notice of a squad of Yankees led by +Top-Sergeant Mahan, ten minutes later. It was the shudder--accompanied +pointing of the delirious man's finger, toward the nearby clump of +undergrowth, that revealed to them the still warm body of Bruce. + +Back to camp, carried lovingly in Mahan's strong arms, went all that +was left of the great courier-dog. Back to camp, propelled between two +none-too-gentle soldiers, staggered the fit-ridden Corporal Freund. + +At the colonel's quarters, a compelling dose of stimulant cleared some +of the mists from the prisoner's brain. His nerve and his will-power +still gone to smash, he babbled eagerly enough of the night attack, of +the killing of the sentries and of his encounter with the Werewolf. + +"I saw him fall!" he raved. "But he is not dead. The Werewolf can be +killed only by a silver bullet, marked with a cross and blessed by a +priest. He will live to track me down! Lock me where he cannot find me, +for the sake of sweet mercy!" + +And in this way, the "Here-We-Comes" learned of Bruce's part in the +night's averted disaster. + +Old Vivier wept unashamed over the body of the dog he had loved. +Top-Sergeant Mahan--the big tears splashing, unnoted, from his own red +eyes--besought the Frenchman to strive for better self-control and not +to set a cry-baby example to the men. + +Then a group of grim-faced soldiers dug a grave. And, carried by Mahan +and Vivier, the beautiful dog's body was borne to its resting-place. A +throng of men in the gray dawn stood wordless around the grave. Some +one shamefacedly took off his hat. With equal shamefacedness, everybody +else followed the example. + +Mahan laid the dog's body on the ground, at the grave's brink. Then, +looking about him, he cleared his throat noisily and spoke. + +"Boys," he began, "when a human dies for other humans, there's a +Christian burial service read over him. I'd have asked the chaplain to +read one over Bruce, here, if I hadn't known he'd say no. But the Big +Dog isn't going to rest without a word said over his grave, for all +that." + +Mahan cleared his throat noisily once more, winked fast, then went on:-- + +"You can laugh at me, if any of you feel like it. But there's some of +you here who wouldn't be alive to laugh, if Bruce hadn't done what he +did last night. He was only just a dog--with no soul, and with no life +after this one, I s'pose. So he went ahead and did his work and took +the risks, and asked no pay. + +"And by and by he died, still doing his work and asking no pay. + +"He didn't work with the idea of getting a cross or a ribbon or a +promotion or a pension or his name in the paper or to make the crowd +cheer him when he got back home, or to brag to the homefolks about how +he was a hero. He just went ahead and WAS a hero. That's because he was +only a dog, with no soul--and not a man. + +"All of us humans are working for some reward, even if it's only for +our pay or for the fun of doing our share. But Bruce was a hero because +he was just a dog, and because he didn't know enough to be anything +else but a hero. + +"I've heard about him, before he joined up with us. I guess most of us +have. He lived up in Jersey, somewhere. With folks that had bred him. +I'll bet a year's pay he was made a lot of by those folks; and that it +wrenched 'em to let him go. You could see he'd been brought up that +way. Life must 'a' been pretty happy for the old chap, back there. Then +he was picked up and slung into the middle of this hell. + +"So was the rest of us, says you. But you're wrong. Those of us that +waited for the draft had our choice of going to the hoosgow, as +'conscientious objectors,' if we didn't want to fight. And every +mother's son of us knew we was fighting for the Right; and that we was +making the world a decenter and safer place for our grandchildren and +our womenfolks to live in. We didn't brag about God being on our side, +like the boches do. It was enough for us to know WE was on GOD'S side +and fighting His great fight for Him. We had patriotism and religion +and Right, behind us, to give us strength. + +"Brucie hadn't a one of those things. He didn't know what he was here +for--and why he'd been pitched out of his nice home, into all this. He +didn't have a chance to say Yes or No. He didn't have any spellbinders +to tell him he was making the world safe for d'mocracy. He was MADE to +come. + +"How would any of us humans have acted, if a deal like that had been +handed to us? We'd 'a' grouched and slacked and maybe deserted. That's +because we're lords of creation and have souls and brains and such. +What did Bruce do? He jumped into this game, with bells on. He risked +his life a hundred times; and he was just as ready to risk it again the +next day. + +"Yes, and he knew he was risking it, too. There's blame little he +didn't know. He saw war-dogs, all around him, choking to death from +gas, or screaming their lives out, in No Man's Land, when a bit of +shell had disemboweled 'em or a bullet had cracked their backbones. He +saw 'em starve to death. He saw 'em one bloody mass of scars and sores. +He saw 'em die of pneumonia and mange and every rotten trench disease. +And he knew it might be his turn, any time at all, to die as they were +dying; and he knew the humans was too busy nursing other humans, to +have time to spare on caring for tortured dogs. (Though those same dogs +were dying for the humans, if it comes to that.) + +"Yes, Bruce knew what the end was bound to be. He knew it. And he kept +on, as gay and as brave as if he was on a day's romp. He never +flinched. Not even that time the K.O. sent him up the hill for +reenforcements at Rache, when every sharpshooter in the boche trenches +was laying for him, and when the machine guns were trained on him, too. +Bruce knew he was running into death--, then and a dozen other times. +And he went at it like a white man. + +"I'm--I'm getting longwinded. And I'll stop. But--maybe if you boys +will remember the Big Dog--and what he did for us,--when you get back +home,--if you'll remember him and what he did and what thousands of +other war-dogs have done,--then maybe you'll be men enough to punch the +jaw of any guy who gets to saying that dogs are nuisances and that +vivisection's a good thing, and all that. If you'll just do that much, +then--well, then Bruce hasn't lived and died for nothing! + +"Brucie, old boy," bending to lift the tawny body and lower it into the +grave, "it's good-by. It's good-by to the cleanest, whitest pal that a +poor dub of a doughboy ever had. I--" + +Mahan glowered across at the clump of silent men. + +"If anybody thinks I'm crying," he continued thickly, "he's a liar. I +got a cold, and--" + +"Sacre bon Dieu!" yelled old Vivier, insanely. "Regarde-donc! Nom d'une +pipe!" + +He knelt quickly beside the body, in an ecstasy of excitement. The +others craned their necks to see. Then from a hundred throats went up a +gasp of amazement. + +Bruce, slowly and dazedly, was lifting his magnificent head! + +"Chase off for the surgeon!" bellowed Mahan, plumping down on his knees +beside Vivier and examining the wound in the dog's scalp. "The bullet +only creased his skull! It didn't go through! It's just put him out for +a few hours, like I've seen it do to men. Get the surgeon! If that +bullet in his body didn't hit something vital, we'll pull him around, +yet! GLORY BE!" + + * * * * * + +It was late summer again at The Place, late opulent summer, with the +peace of green earth and blue sky, the heavy droning of bees and the +promise of harvest. The long shadows of late afternoon stretched +lovingly across the lawn, from the great lakeside trees. Over +everything brooded a dreamy amber light. The war seemed a million miles +away. + +The Mistress and the Master came down from the vine-shaded veranda for +their sunset walk through the grounds. At sound of their steps on the +gravel, a huge dark-brown-and-white collie emerged from his +resting-place under the wistaria-arbor. + +He stretched himself lazily, fore and aft, in collie-fashion. Then he +trotted up to his two deities and thrust his muzzle playfully into the +Mistress's palm, as he fell into step with the promenaders. + +He walked with a stiffness in one foreleg. His gait was not a limp. But +the leg's strength could no longer be relied on for a ten-mile gallop. +Along his forehead was a new-healed bullet-crease. And the fur on his +sides had scarcely yet grown over the mark of the high-powered ball +which had gone clear through him without touching a mortal spot. + +Truly, the regimental surgeon of the "Here-We-Comes" had done a job +worthy of his own high fame! And the dog's wonderful condition had done +the rest. + +Apart from scars and stiffness, Bruce was none the worse for his year +on the battle-front. He could serve no longer as a dashing courier. But +his life as a pet was in no way impaired. + +"Here's something that came by the afternoon mail, Bruce," the Master +greeted him, as the collie ranged alongside. "It belongs to you. Take a +look at it." + +The Master drew from his pocket a leather box, and opened it. On the +oblong of white satin, within the cover, was pinned a very small and +very thin gold medal. But, light as it was, it had represented much +abstinence from estaminets and tobacco-shops, on the part of its donors. + +"Listen," the Master said, holding the medal in front of the collie. +"Listen, while I read you the inscription: 'To Bruce. From some of the +boys he saved from the boches.'" + +Bruce was sniffing the thin gold lozenge interestedly. The inscription +meant nothing to him. But--strong and vivid to his trained nostrils--he +scented on the medal the loving finger-touch of his old friend and +admirer, Top-Sergeant Mahan. + + + +THE END + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bruce, by Albert Payson Terhune + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRUCE *** + +***** This file should be named 2391-8.txt or 2391-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/9/2391/ + +Produced by Dianne Bean. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Bruce + +Author: Albert Payson Terhune + +Posting Date: March 27, 2009 [EBook #2391] +Release Date: November, 2000 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRUCE *** + + + + +Produced by Dianne Bean. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +Bruce +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +by +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +Albert Payson Terhune +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TO MY TEN BEST FRIENDS: +</H3> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Who are far wiser in their way and far better in every way, than I; and +yet who have not the wisdom to know it +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Who do not merely think I am perfect, but who are calmly and +permanently convinced of my perfection;—and this in spite of fifty +disillusions a day +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Who are frantically happy at my coming and bitterly woebegone in my +absence +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Who never bore me and never are bored by me +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Who never talk about themselves and who always listen with rapturous +interest to anything I may say +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Who, having no conventional standards, have no respectability; and who, +having no conventional consciences, have no sins +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Who teach me finer lessons in loyalty, in patience, in true courtesy, +in unselfishness, in divine forgiveness, in pluck and in abiding good +spirits than do all the books I have ever read and all the other models +I have studied +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Who have not deigned to waste time and eyesight in reading a word of +mine and who will not bother to read this verbose tribute to themselves +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +In short, to the most gloriously satisfactory chums who ever appealed +to human vanity and to human desire for companionship +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +TO OUR TEN SUNNYBANK COLLIES MY STORY IS GRATEFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY +DEDICATED +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +BRUCE +</H2> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +by +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Albert Payson Terhune +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">The Coming Of Bruce</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">The Pest</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">The War Dog</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">When Eyes Were No Use</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">The Double Cross</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">The Werewolf</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I. The Coming Of Bruce +</H3> + +<P> +She was beautiful. And she had a heart and a soul—which were a curse. +For without such a heart and soul, she might have found the tough +life-battle less bitterly hard to fight. +</P> + +<P> +But the world does queer things—damnable things—to hearts that are so +tenderly all-loving and to souls that are so trustfully and forgivingly +friendly as hers. +</P> + +<P> +Her "pedigree name" was Rothsay Lass. She was a collie—daintily +fragile of build, sensitive of nostril, furrily tawny of coat. Her +ancestry was as flawless as any in Burke's Peerage. +</P> + +<P> +If God had sent her into the world with a pair of tulip ears and with a +shade less width of brain-space she might have been cherished and +coddled as a potential bench-show winner, and in time might even have +won immortality by the title of "CHAMPION Rothsay Lass." +</P> + +<P> +But her ears pricked rebelliously upward, like those of her earliest +ancestors, the wolves. Nor could manipulation lure their stiff +cartilages into drooping as bench-show fashion demands. The average +show-collie's ears have a tendency to prick. By weights and plasters, +and often by torture, this tendency is overcome. But never when the +cartilage is as unyielding as was Lass's. +</P> + +<P> +Her graceful head harked back in shape to the days when collies had to +do much independent thinking, as sheep-guards, and when they needed +more brainroom than is afforded by the borzoi skull sought after by +modern bench-show experts. +</P> + +<P> +Wherefore, Lass had no hope whatever of winning laurels in the +show-ring or of attracting a high price from some rich fancier. She was +tabulated, from babyhood, as a "second"—in other words, as a faulty +specimen in a litter that should have been faultless. +</P> + +<P> +These "seconds" are as good to look at, from a layman's view, as is any +international champion. And their offspring are sometimes as perfect as +are those of the finest specimens. But, lacking the arbitrary "points" +demanded by show-judges, the "seconds" are condemned to obscurity, and +to sell as pets. +</P> + +<P> +If Lass had been a male dog, her beauty and sense and lovableness would +have found a ready purchaser for her. For nine pet collies out of ten +are "seconds"; and splendid pets they make for the most part. +</P> + +<P> +But Lass, at the very start, had committed the unforgivable sin of +being born a female. Therefore, no pet-seeker wanted to buy her. Even +when she was offered for sale at half the sum asked for her less +handsome brothers, no one wanted her. +</P> + +<P> +A mare—or the female of nearly any species except the canine—brings +as high and as ready a price as does the male. But never the female +dog. Except for breeding, she is not wanted. +</P> + +<P> +This prejudice had its start in Crusader days, some thousand years ago. +Up to that time, all through the civilized world, a female dog had been +more popular as a pet than a male. The Mohammedans (to whom, by creed, +all dogs are unclean) gave their European foes the first hint that a +female dog was the lowest thing on earth. +</P> + +<P> +The Saracens despised her, as the potential mother of future dogs. And +they loathed her accordingly. Back to Europe came the Crusaders, +bearing only three lasting memorials of their contact with the Moslems. +One of the three was a sneering contempt for all female dogs. +</P> + +<P> +There is no other pet as loving, as quick of wit, as loyal, as +staunchly brave and as companionable as the female collie. She has all +the male's best traits and none of his worst. She has more in common, +too, with the highest type of woman than has any other animal alive. +(This, with all due respect to womanhood.) +</P> + +<P> +Prejudice has robbed countless dog-lovers of the joy of owning such a +pal. In England the female pet dog has at last begun to come into her +own. Here she has not. The loss is ours. +</P> + +<P> +And so back to Lass. +</P> + +<P> +When would-be purchasers were conducted to the puppy-run at the Rothsay +kennels, Lass and her six brethren and sisters were wont to come +galloping to the gate to welcome the strangers. For the pups were only +three months old—an age when every event is thrillingly interesting, +and everybody is a friend. Three times out of five, the buyer's eye +would single Lass from the rollicking and fluffy mass of puppyhood. +</P> + +<P> +She was so pretty, so wistfully appealing, so free from fear (and from +bumptiousness as well) and carried herself so daintily, that one's +heart warmed to her. The visitor would point her out. The kennel-man +would reply, flatteringly— +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, she sure is one fine pup!" +</P> + +<P> +The purchaser never waited to hear the end of the sentence, before +turning to some other puppy. The pronoun, "she," had killed forever his +dawning fancy for the little beauty. +</P> + +<P> +The four males of the litter were soon sold; for there is a brisk and a +steady market for good collie pups. One of the two other females died. +Lass's remaining sister began to "shape up" with show-possibilities, +and was bought by the owner of another kennel. Thus, by the time she +was five months old, Lass was left alone in the puppy-run. +</P> + +<P> +She mourned her playmates. It was cold, at night, with no other cuddly +little fur-ball to snuggle down to. It was stupid, with no one to help +her work off her five-months spirits in a romp. And Lass missed the +dozens of visitors that of old had come to the run. +</P> + +<P> +The kennel-men felt not the slightest interest in her. Lass meant +nothing to them, except the work of feeding her and of keeping an extra +run in order. She was a liability, a nuisance. +</P> + +<P> +Lass used to watch with pitiful eagerness for the attendants' +duty-visits to the run. She would gallop joyously up to them, begging +for a word or a caress, trying to tempt them into a romp, bringing them +peaceofferings in the shape of treasured bones she had buried for her +own future use. But all this gained her nothing. +</P> + +<P> +A careless word at best—a grunt or a shove at worst were her only +rewards. For the most part, the men with the feed-trough or the +water-pail ignored her bounding and wrigglingly eager welcome as +completely as though she were a part of the kennel furnishings. Her +short daily "exercise scamper" in the open was her nearest approach to +a good time. +</P> + +<P> +Then came a day when again a visitor stopped in front of Lass's run. He +was not much of a visitor, being a pallid and rather shabbily dressed +lad of twelve, with a brand-new chain and collar in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"You see," he was confiding to the bored kennel-man who had been +detailed by the foreman to take him around the kennels, "when I got the +check from Uncle Dick this morning, I made up my mind, first thing, to +buy a dog with it, even if it took every cent. But then I got to +thinking I'd need something to fasten him with, so he wouldn't run away +before he learned to like me and want to stay with me. So when I got +the check cashed at the store, I got this collar and chain." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you a friend of the boss?" asked the kennel-man. +</P> + +<P> +"The boss?" echoed the boy. "You mean the man who owns this place? No, +sir. But when I've walked past, on the road, I've seen his 'Collies for +Sale' sign, lots of times. Once I saw some of them being exercised. +They were the wonderfulest dogs I ever saw. So the minute I got the +money for the check, I came here. I told the man in the front yard I +wanted to buy a dog. He's the one who turned me over to you. I +wish—OH!" he broke off in rapture, coming to a halt in front of Lass's +run. "Look! Isn't he a dandy?" +</P> + +<P> +Lass had trotted hospitably forward to greet the guest. Now she was +standing on her hind legs, her front paws alternately supporting her +fragile weight on the wire of the fence and waving welcomingly toward +the boy. Unknowingly, she was bidding for a master. And her wistful +friendliness struck a note of response in the little fellow's heart. +For he, too, was lonesome, much of the time, as is the fate of a sickly +only child in an overbusy home. And he had the true craving of the +lonely for dog comradeship. +</P> + +<P> +He thrust his none-too-clean hand through the wire mesh and patted the +puppy's silky head. Lass wiggled ecstatically under the unfamiliar +caress. All at once, in the boy's eyes, she became quite the most +wonderful animal and the very most desirable pet on earth. +</P> + +<P> +"He's great!" sighed the youngster in admiration; adding naïvely: "Is +he Champion Rothsay Chief—the one whose picture was in The Bulletin +last Sunday?" +</P> + +<P> +The kennel-man laughed noisily. Then he checked his mirth, for +professional reasons, as he remembered the nature of the boy's quest +and foresaw a bare possibility of getting rid of the unwelcome Lass. +</P> + +<P> +"Nope," he said. "This isn't Chief. If it was, I guess your Uncle +Dick's check would have to have four figures in it before you could +make a deal. But this is one of Chief's daughters. This is Rothsay +Lass. A grand little girl, ain't she? Say,"—in a confidential +whisper,—"since you've took a fancy for her, maybe I could coax the +old man into lettin' you have her at an easy price. He was plannin' to +sell her for a hundred or so. But he goes pretty much by what I say. He +might let her go for—How much of a check did you say your uncle sent +you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Twelve dollars," answered the boy,—"one for each year. Because I'm +named for him. It's my birthday, you know. But—but a dollar of it went +for the chain and the collar. How much do you suppose the gentleman +would want for Rothsay Lass?" +</P> + +<P> +The kennel-man considered for a moment. Then he went back to the house, +leaving the lad alone at the gate of the run. Eleven dollars, for a +high-pedigreed collie pup, was a joke price. But no one else wanted +Lass, and her feed was costing more every day. According to Rothsay +standards, the list of brood-females was already complete. Even as a +gift, the kennels would be making money by getting rid of the +prick-eared "second." Wherefore he went to consult with the foreman. +</P> + +<P> +Left alone with Lass, the boy opened the gate and went into the run. A +little to his surprise Lass neither shrank from him nor attacked him. +She danced about his legs in delight, varying this by jumping up and +trying to lick his excited face. Then she thrust her cold nose into the +cup of his hand as a plea to be petted. +</P> + +<P> +When the kennel-man came back, the boy was sitting on the dusty ground +of the run, and Lass was curled up rapturously in his lap, learning how +to shake hands at his order. +</P> + +<P> +"You can have her, the boss says," vouchsafed the kennel-man. "Where's +the eleven dollars?" +</P> + +<P> +By this graceless speech Dick Hazen received the key to the Seventh +Paradise, and a life-membership in the world-wide Order of Dog-Lovers. +</P> + +<P> +The homeward walk, for Lass and her new master, was no walk at all, but +a form of spiritual levitation. The half-mile pilgrimage consumed a +full hour of time. Not that Lass hung back or rebelled at her first +taste of collar and chain! These petty annoyances went unfelt in the +wild joy of a real walk, and in the infinitely deeper happiness of +knowing her friendship-famine was appeased at last. +</P> + +<P> +The walk was long for various reasons—partly because, in her frisking +gyrations, Lass was forever tangling the new chain around Dick's thin +ankles; partly because he stopped, every block or so, to pat her or to +give her further lessons in the art of shaking hands. Also there were +admiring boy-acquaintances along the way, to whom the wonderful pet +must be exhibited. +</P> + +<P> +At last Dick turned in at the gate of a cheap bungalow on a cheap +street—a bungalow with a discouraged geranium plot in its +pocket-handkerchief front yard, and with a double line of drying +clothes in the no larger space behind the house. +</P> + +<P> +As Dick and his chum rounded the house, a woman emerged from between +the two lines of flapping sheets, whose hanging she had been +superintending. She stopped at sight of her son and the dog. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" she commented with no enthusiasm at all. "Well, you did it, hey? +I was hoping you'd have better sense, and spend your check on a nice +new suit or something. He's kind of pretty, though," she went on, the +puppy's friendliness and beauty wringing the word of grudging praise +from her. "What kind of a dog is he? And you're sure he isn't savage, +aren't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Collie," answered Dick proudly. "Pedigreed collie! You bet she isn't +savage, either. Why, she's an angel. She minds me already. See—shake +hands, Lass!" "Lass!" ejaculated Mrs. Hazen. "'SHE!' Dick, you don't +mean to tell me you've gone and bought yourself a—a FEMALE dog?" +</P> + +<P> +The woman spoke in the tone of horrified contempt that might well have +been hers had she found a rattlesnake and a brace of toads in her son's +pocket. And she lowered her voice, as is the manner of her kind when +forced to speak of the unspeakable. She moved back from the puppy's +politely out-thrust forepaw as from the passing of a garbage cart. +</P> + +<P> +"A female dog!" she reiterated. "Well, of all the chuckle-heads! A +nasty FEMALE dog, with your birthday money!" +</P> + +<P> +"She's not one bit nasty!" flamed Dick, burying the grubby fingers of +his right hand protectively in the fluffy mass of the puppy's +half-grown ruff. "She's the dandiest dog ever! She—" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk back to me!" snapped Mrs. Hazen. "Here! Turn right around +and take her to the cheats who sold her to you. Tell them to keep her +and give you the good money you paid for her. Take her out of my yard +this minute! Quick!" +</P> + +<P> +A hot mist of tears sprang into the boy's eyes. Lass, with the queer +intuition that tells a female collie when her master is unhappy, whined +softly and licked his clenched hand. +</P> + +<P> +"I—aw, PLEASE, Ma!" he begged chokingly. "PLEASE! It's—it's my +birthday, and everything. Please let me keep her. I—I love her better +than 'most anything there is. Can't I please keep her? Please!" +</P> + +<P> +"You heard what I said," returned his mother curtly. +</P> + +<P> +The washerwoman, who one day a week lightened Mrs. Hazen's household +labors, waddled into view from behind the billows of wind-swirled +clothes. She was an excellent person, and was built for endurance +rather than for speed. At sight of Lass she paused in real interest. +</P> + +<P> +"My!" she exclaimed with flattering approval. "So you got your dog, did +you? You didn't waste no time. And he's sure a handsome little critter. +Whatcher goin' to call him?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's not a him, Irene," contradicted Mrs. Hazen, with another modest +lowering of her strong voice. "It's a HER. And I'm sending Dick back +with her, to where she came from. I've got my opinion of people who +will take advantage of a child's ignorance, by palming off a horrid +female dog on him, too. Take her away, Dick. I won't have her here +another minute. You hear me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Please, Ma!" stammered Dick, battling with his desire to cry. "Aw, +PLEASE! I—I—" +</P> + +<P> +"Your ma's right, Dick," chimed in the washerwoman, her first +interested glance at the puppy changing to one of refined and lofty +scorn. "Take her back. You don't want any female dogs around. No nice +folks do." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" demanded the boy in sudden hopeless anger as he pressed +lovingly the nose Lass thrust so comfortingly into his hand. "WHY don't +we want a female dog around? Folks have female cats around them, and +female women. Why isn't a female dog—" +</P> + +<P> +"That will do, Dick!" broke in his shocked mother. "Take her away." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't," said the boy, speaking very slowly, and with no excitement +at all. +</P> + +<P> +A slap on the side of his head, from his mother's punitive palm, made +him stagger a little. Her hand was upraised for a second installment of +rebellion-quelling—when a slender little body flashed through the air +and landed heavily against her chest. A set of white puppy-teeth all +but grazed her wrathful red face. +</P> + +<P> +Lass, who never before had known the impulse to attack, had jumped to +the rescue of the beaten youngster whom she had adopted as her god. The +woman screeched in terror. Dick flung an arm about the furry whirlwind +that was seeking to avenge his punishment, and pulled the dog back to +his side. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Hazen's shriek, and the obbligato accompaniment of the +washerwoman, made an approaching man quicken his steps as he strolled +around the side of the house. The newcomer was Dick's father, +superintendent of the local bottling works. On his way home to lunch, +he walked in on a scene of hysteria. +</P> + +<P> +"Kill her, sir!" bawled the washerwoman, at sight of him. "Kill her! +She's a mad dog. She just tried to kill Miz' Hazen!" +</P> + +<P> +"She didn't do anything of the kind!" wailed Dick. "She was pertecting +me. Ma hit me; and Lass—" +</P> + +<P> +"Ed!" tearily proclaimed Mrs. Hazen, "if you don't send for a policeman +to shoot that filthy beast, I'll—" +</P> + +<P> +"Hold on!" interrupted the man, at a loss to catch the drift of these +appeals, by reason of their all being spoken in a succession so rapid +as to make a single blurred sentence. "Hold on! What's wrong? And where +did the pup come from? He's a looker, all right a cute little cuss. +What's the row?" +</P> + +<P> +With the plangently useless iterations of a Greek chorus, the tale was +flung at him, piecemeal and in chunks, and in a triple key. When +presently he understood, Hazen looked down for a moment at the +puppy—which was making sundry advances of a shy but friendly nature +toward him. Then he looked at the boy, and noted Dick's hero-effort to +choke back the onrush of babyish sobs. And then, with a roughly +tolerant gesture, he silenced the two raucous women, who were beginning +the tale over again for the third time. +</P> + +<P> +"I see," he said. "I see. I see how it is. Needn't din it at me any +more, folks. And I see Dicky's side of it, too. Yes, and I see the +pup's side of it. I know a lot about dogs. That pup isn't vicious. She +knows she belongs to Dick. You lammed into him, and she took up and +defended him. That's all there is to the 'mad-dog' part of it." +</P> + +<P> +"But Ed—" sputtered his wife. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, you let ME do the talking, Sade!" he insisted, half-grinning, yet +more than half grimly. "I'm the boss here. If I'm not, then it's safe +to listen to me till the boss gets here. And we're goin' to do whatever +I say we are—without any back-talk or sulks, either. It's this way: +Your brother gave the boy a birthday check. We promised he could spend +it any way he had a mind to. He said he wanted a dog, didn't he? And I +said, 'Go to it!' didn't I? Well, he got the dog. Just because it +happens to be a she, that's no reason why he oughtn't to be allowed to +keep it. And he can. That goes." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Dad!" squealed Dick in grateful heroworship. "You're a brick! I'm +not ever going to forget this, so long as I live. Say, watch her shake +hands, Dad! I've taught her, already, to—" +</P> + +<P> +"Ed Hazen!" loudly protested his wife. "Of all the softies! You haven't +backbone enough for a prune. And if my orders to my own son are going +to be—" +</P> + +<P> +"That'll be all, Sade!" interposed the man stiffly—adding: "By the +way, I got a queer piece of news to tell you. Come into the kitchen a +minute." +</P> + +<P> +Grumbling, rebellious, scowling,—yet unable to resist the lure of a +"queer piece of news," Mrs. Hazen followed her husband indoors, leaving +Dick and his pet to gambol deliriously around the clothes-festooned +yard in celebration of their victory. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen here, old girl!" began Hazen the moment the kitchen door was +shut behind them. "Use some sense, can't you? I gave you the wink, and +you wouldn't catch on. So I had to make the grandstand play. I'm no +more stuck on having a measly she-dog around here than you are. And +we're not going to have her, either. But—" +</P> + +<P> +"Then why did you say you were going to? Why did you make a fool of me +before Irene and everything?" she demanded, wrathful yet bewildered. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the boy's birthday, isn't it?" urged Hazen. "And I'd promised +him, hadn't I? And, last time he had one of those 'turns,' didn't Doc +Colfax say we mustn't let him fret and worry any more'n we could help? +Well, if he had to take that dog back to-day, it'd have broke his +heart. He'd have felt like we were his enemies, and he'd never have +felt the same to us again. And it might have hurt his health too—the +shock and all. So—" +</P> + +<P> +"But I tell you," she persisted, "I won't have a dirty little female—" +</P> + +<P> +"We aren't going to," he assured her. "Keep your hair on, till I've +finished. Tonight, after Dick's asleep, I'm going to get rid of her. +He'll wake up in the morning and find she's gone; and the door'll be +open. He'll think she's run away. He'll go looking for her, and he'll +keep on hoping to find her. So that'll ease the shock, you see, by +letting him down bit by bit, instead of snatching his pet away from him +violent-like. And he won't hold it up against US, either, as he would +the other way. I can offer a reward for her, too." +</P> + +<P> +There was a long and thought-crammed pause. The woman plunged deep into +the silences as her fat brain wrought over the suggestion. Then— +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe you HAVE got just a few grains of sense, after all, Ed," +grudgingly vouchsafed Mrs. Hazen. "It isn't a bad idea. Only he'll +grieve a lot for her." +</P> + +<P> +"He'll be hoping, though," said her husband. "He'll be hoping all the +while. That always takes the razor-edge off of grieving. Leave it to +me." +</P> + +<P> +That was the happiest day Dick Hazen had ever known. And it was the +first actively happy day in all Lass's five months of life. +</P> + +<P> +Boy and dog spent hours in a ramble through the woods. They began +Lass's education—which was planned to include more intricate tricks +than a performing elephant and a troupe of circus dogs could hope to +learn in a lifetime. They became sworn chums. Dick talked to Lass as if +she were human. She amazed the enraptured boy by her cleverness and +spirits. His initiation to the dog-masters' guild was joyous and +complete. +</P> + +<P> +It was a tired and ravenous pair of friends who scampered home at +dinner-time that evening. The pallor was gone from Dick's face. His +cheeks were glowing, and his eyes shone. He ate greedily. His parents +looked covertly at each other. And the self-complacency lines around +Hazen's mouth blurred. +</P> + +<P> +Boy and dog went to bed early, being blissfully sleepy and full of +food—also because another and longer woodland ramble was scheduled for +the morrow. +</P> + +<P> +Timidly Dick asked leave to have Lass sleep on the foot of his cot-bed. +After a second telegraphing of glances, his parents consented. Half an +hour later the playmates were sound asleep, the puppy snuggling deep in +the hollow of her master's arm, her furry head across his thin chest. +</P> + +<P> +It was in this pose that Hazen found them when, late in the evening, he +tiptoed into Dick's cubby-hole room. He gazed down at the slumberous +pair for a space, while he fought and conquered an impulse toward fair +play. Then he stooped to pick up the dog. +</P> + +<P> +Lass, waking at the slight creak of a floorboard, lifted her head. At +sight of the figure leaning above her adored master, the lip curled +back from her white teeth. Far down in her throat a growl was born. +Then she recognized the intruder as the man who had petted her and fed +her that evening. The growl died in her throat, giving place to a +welcoming thump or two of her bushy tail. Dick stirred uneasily. +</P> + +<P> +Patting the puppy lightly on her upraised head, Hazen picked up Lass in +his arms and tiptoed out of the room with her. Mistaking this move for +a form of caress, she tried to lick his face. The man winced. +</P> + +<P> +Downstairs and out into the street Hazen bore his trustful little +burden, halting only to put on his hat, and for a whispered word with +his wife. For nearly a mile he carried the dog. Lass greatly enjoyed +the ride. She was pleasantly tired, and it was nice to be carried thus, +by some one who was so considerate as to save her the bother of walking. +</P> + +<P> +At the edge of the town, Hazen set her on the ground and at once began +to walk rapidly away in the direction of home. He had gone perhaps +fifty yards when Lass was gamboling merrily around his feet. A kick +sent the dismayed and agonized puppy flying through the air like a +whimpering catapult, and landed her against a bank with every atom of +breath knocked out of her. Before she had fairly struck ground,—before +she could look about her,—Hazen had doubled around a corner and had +vanished. +</P> + +<P> +At a run, he made for home, glad the unpleasant job was over. At the +door his wife met him. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," she demanded, "did you drown her in the canal, the way you +said?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," he confessed sheepishly, "I didn't exactly drown her. You see, +she nestled down into my arms so cozy and trusting-like, that I—well, +I fixed it so she'll never show up around here again. Trust me to do a +job thoroughly, if I do it at all. I—" +</P> + +<P> +A dramatic gesture from Mrs. Hazen's stubby forefinger interrupted him. +He followed the finger's angry point. Close at his side stood Lass, +wagging her tail and staring expectantly up at him. +</P> + +<P> +With her keen power of scent, it had been no exploit at all to track +the man over a mile of unfamiliar ground. Already she had forgiven the +kick or had put it down to accident on his part. And at the end of her +eager chase, she was eager for a word of greeting. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be—" gurgled Hazen, blinking stupidly. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess you will be," conceded his wife. "If that's the 'thorough' way +you do your jobs at the factory—" +</P> + +<P> +"Say," he mumbled in a sort of wondering appeal, "is there any HUMAN +that would like to trust a feller so much as to risk another +ribcracking kick, just for the sake of being where he is? I almost +wish—" +</P> + +<P> +But the wish was unspoken. Hazen was a true American husband. He feared +his wife more than he loved fairness. And his wife's glare was full +upon him. With a grunt he picked Lass up by the neck, tucked her under +his arm and made off through the dark. +</P> + +<P> +He did not take the road toward the canal, however. Instead he made for +the railroad tracks. He remembered how, as a lad, he had once gotten +rid of a mangy cat, and he resolved to repeat the exploit. It was far +more merciful to the puppy—or at least, to Hazen's conscience,—than +to pitch Lass into the slimy canal with a stone tied to her neck. +</P> + +<P> +A line of freight cars—"empties"—was on a siding, a short distance +above the station. Hazen walked along the track, trying the door of +each car he passed. The fourth he came to was unlocked. He slid back +the newly greased side door, thrust Lass into the chilly and black +interior and quickly slid shut the door behind her. Then with the silly +feeling of having committed a crime, he stumbled away through the +darkness at top speed. +</P> + +<P> +A freight car has a myriad uses, beyond the carrying of legitimate +freight. From time immemorial, it has been a favorite repository for +all manner of illicit flotsam and jetsam human or otherwise. +</P> + +<P> +Its popularity with tramps and similar derelicts has long been a theme +for comic paper and vaudeville jest. Though, heaven knows, the inside +of a moving box-car has few jocose features, except in the imagination +of humorous artist or vaudevillian! +</P> + +<P> +But a far more frequent use for such cars has escaped the notice of the +public at large. As any old railroader can testify, trainhands are +forever finding in box-cars every genus and species of stray. +</P> + +<P> +These finds range all the way from cats and dogs and discarded white +rabbits and canaries, to goats. Dozens of babies have been discovered, +wailing and deserted, in box-car recesses; perhaps a hundred miles from +the siding where, furtively, the tiny human bundle was thrust inside +some conveniently unlatched side door. +</P> + +<P> +A freight train offers glittering chances for the disposal of the +Unwanted. More than once a slain man or woman has been sent along the +line, in this grisly but effective fashion, far beyond the reach of +recognition. +</P> + +<P> +Hazen had done nothing original or new in depositing the luckless +collie pup in one of these wheeled receptacles. He was but following an +old-established custom, familiar to many in his line of life. There was +no novelty to it,—except to Lass. +</P> + +<P> +The car was dark and cold and smelly. Lass hated it. She ran to its +door. Here she found a gleam of hope for escape and for return to the +home where every one that day had been so kind to her. Hazen had shut +the door with such vehemence that it had rebounded. The hasp was down, +and so the catch had not done its duty. The door had slid open a few +inches from the impetus of Hazen's shove. +</P> + +<P> +It was not wide enough open to let Lass jump out, but it was wide +enough for her to push her nose through. And by vigorous thrusting, +with her triangular head as a wedge, she was able to widen the +aperture, inch by inch. In less than three minutes she had broadened it +far enough for her to wriggle out of the car and leap to the side of +the track. There she stood bewildered. +</P> + +<P> +A spring snow was drifting down from the sulky sky. The air was damp +and penetrating. By reason of the new snow the scent of Hazen's +departing footsteps was blotted out. Hazen himself was no longer in +sight. As Lass had made the journey from house to tracks with her head +tucked confidingly under her kidnaper's arm, she had not noted the +direction. She was lost. +</P> + +<P> +A little way down the track the station lights were shining with misty +warmth through the snow. Toward these lights the puppy trotted. +</P> + +<P> +Under the station eaves, and waiting to be taken aboard the almost-due +eleven-forty express, several crates and parcels were grouped. One +crate was the scene of much the same sort of escape-drama that Lass had +just enacted. +</P> + +<P> +The crate was big and comfortable, bedded down with soft sacking and +with "insets" at either side containing food and water. But commodious +as was the box, the unwonted confinement did not at all please its +occupant—a temperamental and highly bred young collie in process of +shipment from the Rothsay Kennels to a purchaser forty miles up the +line. +</P> + +<P> +This collie, wearying of the delay and the loneliness and the strange +quarters, had begun to plunge from one side of the crate to the other +in an effort to break out. A carelessly nailed slat gave away under the +impact. The dog scrambled through the gap and proceeded to gallop +homeward through the snow. +</P> + +<P> +Ten seconds later, Lass, drawn by the lights and by the scent of the +other dog, came to the crate. She looked in. There, made to order for +her, was a nice bed. There, too, were food and drink to appease the +ever-present appetite of a puppy. Lass writhed her way in through the +gap as easily as the former occupant had crawled out. +</P> + +<P> +After doing due justice to the broken puppy biscuits in the +inset-trough, she curled herself up for a nap. +</P> + +<P> +The clangor and glare of the oncoming express awakened her. She cowered +in one corner of the crate. Just then two station-hands began to move +the express packages out to the edge of the platform. One of them +noticed the displaced board of the crate. He drove home its loosened +nails with two sharp taps from a monkey-wrench, glanced inside to make +certain the dog had not gotten out, and presently hoisted the crate +aboard the express-car. +</P> + +<P> +Two hours later the crate was unloaded at a waystation. At seven in the +morning an expressman drove two miles with it to a country-home, a mile +or so from the village where Lass had been disembarked from the train. +</P> + +<P> +An eager knot of people—the Mistress, the Master and two +gardeners—crowded expectantly around the crate as it was set down on +the lawn in front of The Place's veranda. The latch was unfastened, and +the crate's top was lifted back on its hinges. +</P> + +<P> +Out stepped Lass,—tired, confused, a little frightened, but eagerly +willing to make friends with a world which she still insisted on +believing was friendly. It is hard to shake a collie pup's inborn faith +in the friendliness of mankind, but once shaken, it is more than +shaken. It is shattered beyond hope of complete mending. +</P> + +<P> +For an instant she stood thus, looking in timid appeal from one to +another of the faces about her. These faces were blank enough as they +returned her gaze. The glad expectancy was wiped from them as with a +sponge. It was the Master who first found voice. +</P> + +<P> +"And THAT'S Rothsay Princess!" he snorted indignantly. "That's the pup +worth two hundred dollars at eight months, 'because she has every +single good point of Champion Rothsay Chief and not a flaw from nostril +to tail-tip'! Rothsay wrote those very words about her, you remember. +And he's supposed to be the most dependable man in the collie business! +Lord! She's undersized—no bigger than a five monther! And she's +prick-eared and apple-domed; and her head's as wide as a church door!" +</P> + +<P> +Apparently these humans were not glad to see her. Lass was grieved at +their cold appraisal and a little frightened by the Master's tone of +disgust. Yet she was eager, as ever, to make a good impression and to +lure people into liking her. Shyly she walked up to the Mistress and +laid one white little paw on her knee. +</P> + +<P> +Handshaking was Lass's one accomplishment. It had been taught her by +Dick. It had pleased the boy. He had been proud of her ability to do +it. Perhaps it might also please these strangers. And after the odd +fashion of all new arrivals who came to The Place, Lass picked out the +Mistress, rather than any one else, as a potential friend. +</P> + +<P> +The Mistress had ever roused the impatience of collie experts by +looking past the showier "points" of a dog and into the soul and brain +and disposition that lay behind them. So now she looked; and what she +saw in Lass's darkly wistful eyes established the intruder's status at +The Place. +</P> + +<P> +"Let her stay!" pleaded the Mistress as the Master growled something +about bundling the dog into her crate again and sending her back to the +Rothsay Kennels. "Let her stay, please! She's a dear." +</P> + +<P> +"But we're not breeding 'dears,'" observed the Master. "We planned to +breed a strain of perfect collies. And this is a mutt!" +</P> + +<P> +"Her pedigree says there's no better collie blood in America," denied +the Mistress. "And even if she happens to be a 'second,' that's no sign +her puppies will be seconds. See how pretty and loving and wise she is. +DO keep her!" +</P> + +<P> +Which of course settled the matter. +</P> + +<P> +Up the lawn, from his morning swim in the lake, strolled a great +mahogany-and-white collie. At sight of Lass he lowered his head for a +charge. He was king of The Place's dogs, this mighty thoroughbred, +Sunnybank Lad. And he did not welcome canine intruders. +</P> + +<P> +But he halted midway in his dash toward the puppy who frisked forth so +gayly to meet him. For he recognized her as a female. And man is the +only animal that will molest the female of his species. +</P> + +<P> +The fiercely silent charge was changed in a trice to a coldly civil +touching of noses, and the majestic wagging of a plumy tail. After +which, side by side, the two collies—big and little—old and +new—walked up to the veranda, to be petted by the humans who had so +amusedly watched their encounter. +</P> + +<P> +"See!" exclaimed the Mistress, in triumph. "Lad has accepted her. He +vouches for her. That ought to be enough for any one!" +</P> + +<P> +Thus it was that Lass found a home. +</P> + +<P> +As she never yet had been taught to know her name, she learned readily +to respond to the title of "Princess." And for several months life went +on evenly and happily for her. +</P> + +<P> +Indeed, life was always wondrous pleasant, there at The Place,—for +humans and for animals alike. A fire-blue lake bordered the grounds on +two sides. Behind stretched the forest. And on every side arose the +soft green mountains, hemming in and brooding over The Place as though +they loved it. In the winter evenings there was the huge library hearth +with its blaze and warmth; and a disreputable fur rug in front of it +that might have been ordained expressly for tired dogs to drowse on. +And there were the Mistress and the Master. Especially the Mistress! +The Mistress somehow had a way of making all the world seem worth while. +</P> + +<P> +Then, of a morning, when Lass was just eleven months old, two things +happened. +</P> + +<P> +The Mistress and the Master went down to her kennel after breakfast. +Lass did not run forth to greet them as usual. She lay still, wagging +her tail in feeble welcome as they drew near. But she did not get up. +</P> + +<P> +Crowding close to her tawny side was a tiny, shapeless creature that +looked more like a fat blind rat than like anything else. It was a +ten-hour-old collie pup—a male, and yellowish brown of hue. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the climax!" complained the Master, breaking in on the +Mistress's rhapsodies. "Here we've been planning to start a kennel of +home-bred collies! And see what results we get! One solitary puppy! Not +once in ten times are there less than six in a collie-litter. Sometimes +there are a dozen. And here the dog you wheedled me into keeping has +just one! I expected at least seven." +</P> + +<P> +"If it's a freak to be the only puppy in a litter," answered the +Mistress, refusing to part with her enthusiasm over the miracle, "then +this one ought to bring us luck. Let's call him 'Bruce.' You remember, +the original Bruce won because of the mystic number, seven. This Bruce +has got to make up to us for the seven puppies that weren't born. See +how proud she is of him! Isn't she a sweet little mother?" +</P> + +<P> +The second of the morning's events was a visit from the foreman of the +Rothsay Kennels, who motored across to The Place, intent on clearing up +a mystery. +</P> + +<P> +"The Boss found a collie yesterday, tied in the front yard of a negro +cabin a mile or two from our kennels," he told the Master. "He +recognized her right away as Rothsay Princess. The negro claims to have +found her wandering around near the railroad tracks, one night, six +months ago. Now, what's the answer?" +</P> + +<P> +"The answer," said the Master, "is that your boss is mistaken. I've had +Rothsay Princess for the past six months. And she's the last dog I'll +ever get from the Rothsay Kennels. I was stung, good and plenty, on +that deal. +</P> + +<P> +"My wife wanted to keep her, or I'd have made a kick in the courts for +having to pay two hundred dollars for a cheeky, apple-domed, prick +eared—" +</P> + +<P> +"Prick-eared!" exclaimed the foreman, aghast at the volleyed sacrilege. +"Rothsay Princess has the best ears of any pup we've bred since +Champion Rothsay Chief. Not a flaw in that pup. She—" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a flaw, hey!" sniffed the Master. "Come down to the kennel and +take a look at her. She has as many flaws as a street-cur has fleas." +</P> + +<P> +He led the way to the kennel. At sight of the stranger Lass growled and +showed her teeth. For a collie mother will let nobody but proven +friends come near to her newborn brood. +</P> + +<P> +The foreman stared at the hostile young mother for a half-minute, +whistling bewilderedly between his teeth. Then he laughed aloud. +</P> + +<P> +"That's no more Rothsay Princess than I am!" he declared. "I know who +she IS, though. I'd remember that funny mask among a million. That's +Rothsay Lass! Though how she got HERE—! +</P> + +<P> +"We couldn't have shipped her by mistake, either," he went on, +confused. "For we'd sold her, that same day, to a kid in our town. I +ought to know. Because the kid kept on pestering us every day for a +month afterward, to find if she had come back to us. He said she ran +away in the night. He still comes around, once a week or so, to ask. A +spindly, weak, sick-looking little chap, he is. I don't get the point +of this thing, from any angle. But we run our kennels on the square. +And I can promise the boss'll either send back your check or send +Rothsay Princess to you and take Lass back." +</P> + +<P> +Two days later, while all The Place was still mulling over the mystery, +a letter came for the Master from Lass's home town. It was signed +"Edw'd Hazen," and it was written on the cheap stationery of his +employer's bottling works. It read: +</P> + +<P> +Dear Sir: +</P> + +<P> +"Six months ago, my son bought a dog from the Rothsay Kennels. It was a +she-dog, and his ma and I didn't want one around. So I put it aboard a +freight-car on the sly. My boy went sick over losing his dog. He has +never rightly got over it, but he peaks and mopes and gets thinner all +the time. If I had known how hard he was going to take it, I would of +cut off my hand before I would of done such a thing. And my wife feels +just like I do about it. We would both of us have given a hundred +dollars to get the dog back for him, when we saw how bad he felt. But +it was too late. Somehow or other it is most generally too late when a +rotten thing has been done. +</P> + +<P> +"To-day he went again to the Rothsay Kennels to ask if she had come +back. He has always been hoping she would. And they told him you have +her. Now, sir, I am a poor man, but if one hundred dollars will make +you sell me that dog, I'll send it to you in a money order by return +mail. It will be worth ten times that much, to my wife and me, to have +Dick happy again. I inclose a stamp. Will you let me know?" +</P> + +<P> +Six weeks afterward The Place's car brought Dick Hazen across to +receive his long-lost pet. +</P> + +<P> +The boy was thinner and shakier and whiter than when he had gone to +sleep with his cherished puppy curled against his narrow chest. But +there was a light in his eyes and an eagerness in his heart that had +not been there in many a long week. +</P> + +<P> +Lass was on the veranda to welcome him. And as Dick scrambled out of +the car and ran to pick her up, she came more than half-way to meet +him. With a flurry of fast-pattering steps and a bark of eager welcome, +she flung herself upon her long-vanished master. For a highbred collie +does not forget. And at first glimpse of the boy Lass remembered him. +</P> + +<P> +Dick caught her up in his arms—a harder feat than of yore, because of +her greater weight and his own sapped strength,—and hugged her tight +to his breast. Winking very fast indeed to disperse tears that had no +place in the eyes of a self-contained man of twelve, he sputtered +rapturously: +</P> + +<P> +"I KNEW I'd find you, Lassie—I knew it all the time;—even the times +when I was deadsure I wouldn't! Gee, but you've grown, though! And +you're beautifuler than ever. Isn't she, Miss?" he demanded, turning to +the Mistress with instinctive knowledge that here at least he would +find confirmation. "Indeed she is!" the Mistress assured him. +</P> + +<P> +"And see how glad she is to be with you again! She—" +</P> + +<P> +"And Dad says she can stay with me, for keeps!" exulted Dick. "He says +he'll put a new lock on the cellar door, so she can't ever push out +again, the way she did, last time. But I guess she's had her lesson in +going out for walks at night and not being able to find her way back. +She and I are going to have the dandiest times together, that ever +happened. Aren't we, Lass? Is that her little boy?" he broke off, in +eager curiosity, as the Master appeared from the kennels, carrying +Bruce. +</P> + +<P> +The puppy was set down on the veranda floor for Dick's inspection. +</P> + +<P> +"He's cunning, isn't he? Kind of like a Teddy Bear,—the sort kids play +with. But," with a tinge of worry, "I'm not sure Ma will let me keep +two. Maybe—" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," suggested the Mistress, "perhaps you'd like us to keep +little Bruce, to remember Lass by? We'll try to make him very happy." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes'm!" agreed Dick, in much haste, his brow clearing from a mental +vision of Mrs. Hazen's face when she should see him return with twice +as many dogs as he had set out for. "Yes'm. If you wouldn't mind, very +much. S'pose we leave it that way? I guess Bruce'll like being with +you, Miss. I—I guess pretty near anybody would. You'll—you'll try not +to be too homesick for Lass, won't you?" +</P> + +<P> +On the steps of the veranda the downy and fat puppy watched his +mother's departure with no especial interest. By the Mistress's wish, +Mr. Hazen had not been required to make any part of his proffered +hundred-dollar payment for the return of his boy's pet. All the +Mistress had stipulated was that Lass might be allowed to remain at The +Place until baby Bruce should no longer need her. +</P> + +<P> +"Bruce," said the Mistress as the car rolled up the drive and out of +sight, "you are the sole visible result of The Place's experiment in +raising prize collies. You have a tremendous responsibility on those +fat little shoulders of yours,—to live up to it all." +</P> + +<P> +By way of showing his scorn for such trifles as a "tremendous +responsibility," Bruce proceeded to make a ferocious onslaught at the +Mistress's temperamental gray Persian kitten, "Tipperary," which was +picking a mincing way across the veranda. +</P> + +<P> +A howl of pain and two scratches on his tiny nose immediately followed +the attack. Tipperary then went on with her mincing promenade. And +Bruce, with loud lamentations, galloped to the shelter of the +Mistress's skirt. +</P> + +<P> +"Poor little chap!" soothed the Mistress, picking him up and comforting +him. "Responsibility isn't such a joke, after all, is it, Baby?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II. The Pest +</H3> + +<P> +Thackeray, as a lad, was dropped from college for laziness and for +gambling. Bismarck failed to get a University degree, because he lacked +power to study and because he preferred midnight beer to midnight oil. +George Washington, in student days, could never grasp the simplest +rules of spelling. The young Lincoln loved to sprawl in the shade with +fish-pole or tattered book, when he should have been working. +</P> + +<P> +Now, these men were giants—physically as well as mentally. Being +giants, they were by nature slow of development. +</P> + +<P> +The kitten, at six months of age, is graceful and compact and of +perfect poise. The lion-cub, at the same age, is a gawky and foolish +and ill-knit mass of legs and fur; deficient in sense and in symmetry. +Yet at six years, the lion and the cat are not to be compared for power +or beauty or majesty or brain, or along any other lines. +</P> + +<P> +The foregoing is not an essay on the slow development of the Great. It +is merely a condensation of the Mistress's earnest arguments against +the selling or giving away of a certain hopelessly awkward and +senseless and altogether undesirable collie pup named Bruce. +</P> + +<P> +From the very first, the Mistress had been Bruce's champion at The +Place. There was no competition for that office. She and she alone +could see any promise in the shambling youngster. +</P> + +<P> +Because he had been born on The Place, and because he was the only son +of Rothsay Lass, whom the Mistress had also championed against strong +opposition, it had been decided to keep and raise him. But daily this +decision seemed less and less worth while. Only the Mistress's +championing of the Undesirable prevented his early banishment. +</P> + +<P> +From a fuzzy and adventurous fluff-ball of gray-gold-and-white fur, +Bruce swiftly developed into a lanky giant. He was almost as large +again as is the average collie pup of his age; but, big as he was, his +legs and feet and head were huge, out of all proportion to the rest of +him. The head did not bother him. Being hampered by no weight of brain, +it would be navigated with more or less ease, in spite of its bulk. But +the legs and feet were not only in his own way, but in every one else's. +</P> + +<P> +He seemed totally lacking in sense, as well as in bodily coordination. +He was forever getting into needless trouble. He was a stormcenter. No +one but a born fool—canine or human—could possibly have caused +one-tenth as much bother. +</P> + +<P> +The Mistress had named him "Bruce," after the stately Scottish +chieftain who was her history-hero. And she still called him +Bruce—fifty times a day—in the weary hope of teaching him his name. +But every one else on The Place gave him a title instead of a name—a +title that stuck: "The Pest." He spent twenty-four hours, daily, living +up to it. +</P> + +<P> +Compared with Bruce's helplessly clownish trouble-seeking propensities, +Charlie Chaplin's screen exploits are miracles of heroic dignity and of +good luck. +</P> + +<P> +There was a little artificial water-lily pool on The Place, perhaps +four feet deep. By actual count, Bruce fell into it no less than nine +times in a single week. Once or twice he had nearly drowned there +before some member of the family chanced to fish him out. And, learning +nothing from experience, he would fall in again, promptly, the next day. +</P> + +<P> +The Master at last rigged up a sort of sloping wooden platform, running +from the lip of the pool into the water, so that Bruce could crawl out +easily, next time he should tumble in. Bruce watched the placing of +this platform with much grave interest. The moment it was completed, he +trotted down it on a tour of investigation. At its lower edge he +slipped and rolled into the pool. There he floundered, with no thought +at all of climbing out as he had got in, until the Master rescued him +and spread a wire net over the whole pool to avert future accidents. +</P> + +<P> +Thenceforth, Bruce met with no worse mischance, there, than the +perpetual catching of his toe-pads in the meshes of the wire. Thus +ensnared he would stand, howling most lamentably, until his yells +brought rescue. +</P> + +<P> +Though the pool could be covered with a net, the wide lake at the foot +of the lawn could not be. Into the lake Bruce would wade till the water +reached his shoulders. Then with a squeal of venturesome joy, he would +launch himself outward for a swim; and, once facing away from shore, he +never had sense enough to turn around. +</P> + +<P> +After a half-hour of steady swimming, his soft young strength would +collapse. A howl of terror would apprise the world at large that he was +about to drown. Whereat some passing boatman would pick him up and hold +him for ransom, or else some one from The Place must jump into skiff or +canoe and hie with all speed to the rescue. The same thing would be +repeated day after day. +</P> + +<P> +The local S.P.C.A. threatened to bring action against the Master for +letting his dog risk death, in this way, from drowning. Morbidly, the +Master wished the risk might verge into a certainty. +</P> + +<P> +The puppy's ravenous appetite was the wonder of all. He stopped eating +only when there was nothing edible in reach. And as his ideas of edible +food embraced everything that was chewable,—from bath-towels to +axle-grease—he was seldom fasting and was frequently ill. +</P> + +<P> +Nature does more for animals than for humans. By a single experience +she warns them, as a rule, what they may safely eat and what they may +not. Bruce was the exception. He would pounce upon and devour a +luscious bit of laundry-soap with just as much relish as though a +similar bit of soap had not made him horribly sick the day before. +</P> + +<P> +Once he munched, relishfully, a two-pound box of starch, box and all; +on his recovery, he began upon a second box, and was unhappy when it +was taken from him. +</P> + +<P> +He would greet members of the family with falsetto-thunderous barks of +challenge as they came down the drive from the highway. But he would +frisk out in joyous welcome to meet and fawn upon tramps or peddlers +who sought to invade The Place. He could scarce learn his own name. He +could hardly be taught to obey the simplest command. As for shaking +hands or lying down at order (those two earliest bits of any dog's +education), they meant no more to Bruce than did the theory of +quadratic equations. +</P> + +<P> +At three months he launched forth merrily as a chicken-killer; +gleefully running down and beheading The Place's biggest Orpington +rooster. But his first kill was his last. The Master saw to that. +</P> + +<P> +There is no use in thrashing a dog for killing poultry. There is but +one practically sure cure for the habit. And this one cure the Master +applied. +</P> + +<P> +He tied the slain rooster firmly around Bruce's furry throat, and made +the puppy wear it, as a heavy and increasingly malodorous pendant, for +three warm days and nights. +</P> + +<P> +Before the end of this seventy-two-hour period, Bruce had grown to +loathe the sight and scent of chicken. Stupid as he was, he learned +this lesson with absolute thoroughness,—as will almost any +chicken-killing pup,—and it seemed to be the only teaching that his +unawakened young brain had the power to grasp. +</P> + +<P> +In looks, too, Bruce was a failure. His yellowish-and-white body was +all but shapeless. His coat was thick and heavy enough, but it showed a +tendency to curl—almost to kink—instead of waving crisply, as a +collie's ought. The head was coarse and blurred in line. The body was +gaunt, in spite of its incessant feedings. As for contour or style— +</P> + +<P> +It was when the Master, in disgust, pointed out these diverse failings +of the pup, that the Mistress was wont to draw on historic precedent +for other instances of slow development, and to take in vain the names +of Thackeray, Lincoln, Washington and Bismarck and the rest. +</P> + +<P> +"Give him time!" she urged once. "He isn't quite six months old yet; +and he has grown so terribly fast. Why, he's over two feet tall, at the +shoulder, even now—much bigger than most full-grown collies. Champion +Howgill Rival is spoken of as a 'big' dog; yet he is only twenty-four +inches at the shoulder, Mr. Leighton says. Surely it's something to own +a dog that is so big." +</P> + +<P> +"It IS 'something,'" gloomily conceded the Master. "In our case it is a +catastrophe. I don't set up to be an expert judge of collies, so maybe +I am all wrong about him. I'm going to get professional opinion, +though. Next week they are going to have the spring dogshow at Hampton. +It's a little hole-in-a-corner show, of course. But Symonds is to be +the all-around judge, except for the toy breeds. And Symonds knows +collies, from the ground up. I am going to take Bruce over there and +enter him for the puppy class. If he is any good, Symonds will know it. +If the dog is as worthless as I think he is, I'll get rid of him. If +Symonds gives any hope for him, I'll keep him on a while longer." +</P> + +<P> +"But," ventured the Mistress, "if Symonds says 'Thumbs down,' then—" +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'll buy a pet armadillo or an ornithorhynchus instead," +threatened the Master. "Either of them will look more like a collie +than Bruce does." +</P> + +<P> +"I—I wonder if Mr. Symonds smokes," mused the Mistress under her +breath. +</P> + +<P> +"Smokes?" echoed the Master. "What's that got to do with it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was only wondering," she made hesitant answer, "if a box of very +wonderful cigars, sent to him with our cards, mightn't perhaps—" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a fine sportsmanly proposition!" laughed the Master. "When women +get to ruling the world of sport, there'll be no need of comic +cartoons. Genuine photographs will do as well. If it's just the same to +you, dear girl, we'll let Symonds buy his own cigars, for the present. +The dog-show game is almost the only one I know of where a judge is +practically always on the square. People doubt his judgment, sometimes, +but there is practically never any doubt of his honesty. Besides, we +want to get the exact dope on Bruce. (Not that I haven't got it, +already!) If Symonds 'gates' him, I'm going to offer him for sale at +the show. If nobody buys him there, I'm going—" +</P> + +<P> +"He hasn't been 'gated' yet," answered the Mistress in calm confidence. +</P> + +<P> +At the little spring show, at Hampton, a meager eighty dogs were +exhibited, of which only nine were collies. This collie division +contained no specimens to startle the dog-world. Most of the exhibits +were pets. And like nearly all pets, they were "seconds"—in other +words, the less desirable dogs of thoroughbred litters. +</P> + +<P> +Hampton's town hall auditorium was filled to overcrowding, with a mass +of visitors who paraded interestedly along the aisles between the +raised rows of stall-like benches where the dogs were tied; or who +grouped densely around all four sides of the roped judging-ring in the +center of the hall. +</P> + +<P> +For a dogshow has a wel-nigh universal appeal to humanity at large; +even as the love for dogs is one of the primal and firm-rooted human +emotions. Not only the actual exhibitor and their countless friends +flock to such shows; but the public at large is drawn thither as to no +other function of the kind. +</P> + +<P> +Horse-racing, it is true, brings out a crowd many times larger than +does a dogshow. But only because of the thrill of winning or losing +money. For where one's spare cash is, there is his heart and his +all-absorbing interest. Yet it is a matter of record that grass is +growing high, on the race-tracks, in such states as have been able to +enforce the anti-betting laws. The "sport of kings" flourishes only +where wagers may accompany it. Remove the betting element, and you turn +your racetrack into a huge and untrodden lot. +</P> + +<P> +There is practically no betting connected with any dogshow. People go +there to see the dogs and to watch their judging, and for nothing else. +As a rule, the show is not even a social event. Nevertheless, the +average dogshow is thronged with spectators. (Try to cross Madison +Square Garden, on Washington's Birthday afternoon, while the +Westminster Kennel Club's Show is in progress. If you can work your way +through the press of visitors in less than half an hour, then Nature +intended you for a football champion.) +</P> + +<P> +The fortunate absence of a betting-interest alone keeps such affairs +from becoming among the foremost sporting features of the world. Many +of the dogs on view are fools, of course. Because many of them have +been bred solely with a view to show-points. And their owners and +handlers have done nothing to awaken in their exhibits the half-human +brain and heart that is a dog's heritage. All has been sacrificed to +"points"—to points which are arbitrary and which change as freakily as +do fashions in dress. +</P> + +<P> +For example, a few years ago, a financial giant collected and exhibited +one of the finest bunches of collies on earth. He had a competent +manager and an army of kennel-men to handle them. He took inordinate +pride in these priceless collies of his. Once I watched him, at the +Garden Show, displaying them to some Wall Street friends. Three times +he made errors in naming his dogs. Once, when he leaned too close to +the star collie of his kennels, the dog mistook him for a stranger and +resented the intrusion by snapping at him. He did not know his own +pets, one from another. And they did not know their owner, by sight or +by scent. +</P> + +<P> +At the small shows, there is an atmosphere wholly different. Few of the +big breeders bother to compete at such contests. The dogs are for the +most part pets, for which their owners feel a keen personal affection, +and which have been brought up as members of their masters' households. +Thus, if small shows seldom bring forth a world-beating dog, they at +least are full of clever and humanized exhibits and of men and women to +whom the success or failure of their canine friends is a matter of +intensest personal moment. Wherefore the small show often gives the +beholder something he can find but rarely in a larger exhibition. +</P> + +<P> +A few dogs genuinely enjoy shows—or are supposed to. To many others a +dogshow is a horror. +</P> + +<P> +Which windy digression brings us back by prosy degrees to Bruce and to +the Hampton dogshow. +</P> + +<P> +The collies were the first breed to be judged. And the puppy class, as +usual, was the first to be called to the ring. +</P> + +<P> +There were but three collie pups, all males. One was a rangy tri-color +of eleven months, with a fair head and a bad coat. The second was an +exquisite six-months puppy, rich of coat, prematurely perfect of head, +and cowhocked. These two and Bruce formed the puppy class which paraded +before Symonds in the oblong ring. +</P> + +<P> +"Anyhow," whispered the Mistress as the Master led his stolidly +gigantic entry toward the enclosure, "Bruce can't get worse than a +third-prize yellow ribbon. We ought to be a little proud of that. There +are only three entries in his class." +</P> + +<P> +But even that bit of barren pride was denied the awkward youngster's +sponsor. As the three pups entered the enclosure, the judge's half-shut +eyes rested on Bruce—at first idly, then in real amazement. Crossing +to the Master, before giving the signal for the first maneuvers, he +said in tired disgust— +</P> + +<P> +"Please take your measly St. Bernard monstrosity out of the ring. This +is a class for collies, not for freaks. I refuse to judge that pup as a +collie." +</P> + +<P> +"He's a thoroughbred," crossly protested the Master. "I have his +certified pedigree. There's no better blood in—" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care what his ancestors were," snapped the judge. "He's a +throw-back to the dinosaur or the Great Auk. And I won't judge him as a +collie. Take him out of the ring. You're delaying the others." +</P> + +<P> +A judge's decision is final. Red with angry shame and suppressing an +unworthy desire to kick the luckless Bruce, the Master led the pup back +to his allotted bench. Bruce trotted cheerily along with a maddening +air of having done something to be proud of. Deaf to the Mistress's +sympathy and to her timidly voiced protests, the Master scrawled on an +envelope-back the words "For Sale. Name Your Own Price," and pinned it +on the edge of the bench. +</P> + +<P> +"Here endeth the first lesson in collie-raising, so far as The Place is +concerned," he decreed, stalking back to the ringside to watch the rest +of the judging. +</P> + +<P> +The Mistress lingered behind, to bestow a furtive consolatory pat upon +the disqualified Bruce. Then she joined her husband beside the ring. +</P> + +<P> +It was probably by accident that her skirt brushed sharply against the +bench-edge as she went—knocking the "For Sale" sign down into the +litter of straw below. +</P> + +<P> +But a well-meaning fellow-exhibitor, across the aisle, saw the bit of +paper flutter floorward. This good soul rescued it from the straw and +pinned it back in place. +</P> + +<P> +(The world is full of helpful folk. That is perhaps one reason why the +Millennium's date is still so indefinite.) +</P> + +<P> +An hour later, a man touched the Master on the arm. +</P> + +<P> +"That dog of yours, on Bench 48," began the stranger, "the big pup with +the 'For Sale' sign on his bench. What do you want for him?" +</P> + +<P> +The Mistress was several feet away, talking to the superintendent of +the show. Guiltily, yet gratefully, the Master led the would-be +purchaser back to the benches, without attracting his wife's notice. +</P> + +<P> +A few minutes afterward he returned to where she and the superintendent +were chatting. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said the Master, trying to steel himself against his wife's +possible disappointment, "I found a buyer for Bruce—a Dr. Halding, +from New York. He likes the pup. Says Bruce looks as if he was strong +and had lots of endurance. I wonder if he wants him for a sledge-dog. +He paid me fifteen dollars for him; and it was a mighty good bargain. I +was lucky to get more than a nickel for such a cur." +</P> + +<P> +The Master shot forth this speech in almost a single rapid breath. +Then, before his wife could reply,—and without daring to look into her +troubled eyes,—he discovered an acquaintance on the far side of the +ring and bustled off to speak to him. The Master, you see, was a +husband, not a hero. +</P> + +<P> +The Mistress turned a worried gaze on the superintendent. +</P> + +<P> +"It was best, I suppose," she said bravely. "We agreed he must be sold, +if the judge decided he was not any good. But I'm sorry. For I'm fond +of him. I'm sorry he is going to live in New York, too. A big city is +no place for a big dog. I hope this Dr. Halding will be nice to the +poor puppy." +</P> + +<P> +"Dr.—WHO?" sharply queried the superintendent, who had not caught the +name when the Master had spoken it in his rapid-fire speech. "Dr. +Halding? Of New York? Huh! +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't worry about the effect of city life on your dog," he went +on with venomous bitterness. "The pup won't have a very long spell of +it. If I had my way, that man Halding would be barred from every +dog-show and stuck in jail. It's an old trick of his, to buy up +thoroughbreds, cheap, at shows. The bigger and the stronger they are, +the more he pays for them. He seems to think pedigreed dogs are better +for his filthy purposes than street curs. They have a higher nervous +organism, I suppose. The swine!" +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" asked the Mistress, puzzled by his vehemence. "I +don't—" +</P> + +<P> +"You must have heard of Halding and his so-called 'research work,'" the +superintendent went on. "He is one of the most notorious +vivisectionists in—" +</P> + +<P> +The superintendent got no further. He was talking to empty air. The +Mistress had fled. Her determined small figure made a tumbled wake +through the crowd as she sped toward Bruce's bench. The puppy was no +longer there. In another second the Mistress was at the door of the +building. +</P> + +<P> +A line of parked cars was stretched across the opposite side of the +village street. Into one of these cars a large and loose-jointed man +was lifting a large and loose-jointed dog. The dog did not like his +treatment, and was struggling pathetically in vain awkwardness to get +free. +</P> + +<P> +"Bruce!" called the Mistress, fiercely, as she dashed across the street. +</P> + +<P> +The puppy heard the familiar voice and howled for release. Dr. Halding +struck him roughly over the head and scrambled into the machine with +him, reaching with his one disengaged hand for the self-starter button. +Before he could touch it, the Mistress was on the running-board of the +car. +</P> + +<P> +As she ran, she had opened her wristbag. Now, flinging on the +runabout's seat a ten and a five-dollar bill, she demanded— +</P> + +<P> +"Give me my dog! There is the money you paid for him!" +</P> + +<P> +"He isn't for sale," grinned the Doctor. "Stand clear, please. I'm +starting." +</P> + +<P> +"You're doing nothing of the sort," was the hot reply. "You'll give +back my dog! Do you understand?" +</P> + +<P> +For answer Halding reached again toward his self-starter. A renewed +struggle from the whimpering puppy frustrated his aim and forced him to +devote both hands to the subduing of Bruce. The dog was making frantic +writhings to get to the Mistress. She caught his furry ruff and raged +on, sick with anger. +</P> + +<P> +"I know who you are and what you want this poor frightened puppy for. +You shan't have him! There seems to be no law to prevent human devils +from strapping helpless dogs to a table and torturing them to death in +the unholy name of science. But if there isn't a corner waiting for +them, below, it's only because Hades can't be made hot enough to punish +such men as they ought to be punished! You're not going to torture +Bruce. There's your money. Let go of him." +</P> + +<P> +"You talk like all silly, sloppy sentimentalists!" scoffed the Doctor, +his slight German accent becoming more noticeable as he continued: "A +woman can't have the intellect to understand our services to humanity. +We—" +</P> + +<P> +"Neither have half the real doctors!" she flashed. "Fully half of them +deny that vivisection ever helped humanity. And half the remainder say +they are in doubt. They can't point to a single definite case where it +has been of use. Alienists say it's a distinct form of mental +perversion,—the craving to torture dumb animals to death and to make +scientific notes of their sufferings." +</P> + +<P> +"Pah!" he sniffed. "I—" +</P> + +<P> +She hurried on +</P> + +<P> +"If humanity can't be helped without cutting live dogs and kittens to +shreds, in slow agony—then so much the worse for humanity! If you +vivisectors would be content to practice on one another—or on +condemned murderers,—instead of on friendly and innocent dogs, there'd +be no complaint from any one. But leave our pets alone. Let go of my +puppy!" +</P> + +<P> +By way of response the Doctor grunted in lofty contempt. At the same +time he tucked the wriggling dog under his right arm, holding him thus +momentarily safe, and pressed the self-starter button. +</P> + +<P> +There was a subdued whir. A move of Halding's foot and a release of the +brake, and the car started forward. +</P> + +<P> +"Stand clear!" he ordered. "I'm going." +</P> + +<P> +The jolt of the sudden start was too much for the Mistress's balance on +the running-board. Back she toppled. Only by luck did she land on her +feet instead of her head, upon the greasy pavement of the street. +</P> + +<P> +But she sprang forward again, with a little cry of indignant dismay, +and reached desperately into the moving car for Bruce, calling him +eagerly by name. +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Halding was steering with his left hand, while his viselike right +arm still encircled the protesting collie. As the Mistress ran +alongside and grasped frantically for her doomed pet, he let go of +Bruce for an instant, to fend off her hand—or perhaps to thrust her +away from the peril of the fast-moving mud-guards. At the Mistress's +cry—and at the brief letup of pressure caused by the Doctor's menacing +gesture toward the unhappy woman—Bruce's long-sleeping soul awoke. He +answered the cry and the man's blow at his deity in the immemorial +fashion of all dogs whose human gods are threatened. +</P> + +<P> +There was a snarling wild-beast growl, the first that ever had come +from the clownlike puppy's throat,—and Bruce flung his unwieldy young +body straight for the vivisector's throat. +</P> + +<P> +Halding, with a vicious fist-lunge, sent the pup to the floor of the +car in a crumpled heap, but not before the curving white eyeteeth had +slashed the side of the man's throat in an ugly flesh-wound that drove +its way dangerously close to the jugular. +</P> + +<P> +Half stunned by the blow, and with the breath knocked out of him, Bruce +none the less gathered himself together with lightning speed and +launched his bulk once more for Halding's throat. +</P> + +<P> +This time he missed his mark—for several things happened all at once. +</P> + +<P> +At the dog's first onslaught, Halding's foot had swung forward, along +with his fist, in an instinctive kick. The kick did not reach Bruce. +But it landed, full and effectively, on the accelerator. +</P> + +<P> +The powerful car responded to the touch with a bound. And it did so at +the very moment that the flash of white teeth at his throat made +Halding snatch his own left hand instinctively from the steering-wheel, +in order to guard the threatened spot. +</P> + +<P> +A second later the runabout crashed at full speed into the wall of a +house on the narrow street's opposite side. +</P> + +<P> +The rest was chaos. +</P> + +<P> +When a crowd of idlers and a policeman at last righted the wrecked car, +two bodies were found huddled inertly amid a junk-heap of splintered +glass and shivered wood and twisted metal. The local ambulance carried +away one of these limp bodies. The Place's car rushed the smash-up's +other senseless victim to the office of the nearest veterinary. Dr. +Halding, with a shattered shoulder-blade and a fractured nose and jaw +and a mild case of brain-concussion,—was received as a guest of honor +at the village hospital. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce, his left foreleg broken and a nasty assortment of glass-cuts +marring the fluffiness of his fur, was skillfully patched up by the +vet' and carried back that night to The Place. +</P> + +<P> +The puppy had suddenly taken on a new value in his owners' eyes—partly +for his gallantly puny effort at defending the Mistress, partly because +of his pitiful condition. And he was nursed, right zealously, back to +life and health. +</P> + +<P> +In a few weeks, the plaster cast on the convalescent's broken foreleg +had been replaced by a bandage. In another week or two the vet' +pronounced Bruce as well as ever. The dog, through habit, still held +the mended foreleg off the ground, even after the bandage was removed. +Whereat, the Master tied a bandage tightly about the uninjured foreleg. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce at once decided that this, and not the other, was the lame leg; +and he began forthwith to limp on it. As it was manifestly impossible +to keep both forelegs off the ground at the same time when he was +walking, he was forced to make use of the once-broken leg. Finding, to +his amaze, that he could walk on it with perfect ease, he devoted his +limping solely to the well leg. And as soon as the Master took the +bandage from that, Bruce ceased to limp at all. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile, a lawyer, whose name sounded as though it had been culled +from a Rhine Wine list, had begun suit, in Dr. Halding's name, against +the Mistress, as a "contributory cause" of his client's accident. The +suit never came to trial. It was dropped, indeed, with much haste. Not +from any change of heart on the plaintiff's behalf; but because, at +that juncture, Dr. Halding chanced to be arrested and interned as a +dangerous Enemy Alien. Our country had recently declared war on +Germany; and the belated spy-hunt was up. +</P> + +<P> +During the Federal officers' search of the doctor's house, for +treasonable documents (of which they found an ample supply), they came +upon his laboratory. No fewer than five dogs, in varying stages of +hideous torture, were found strapped to tables or hanging to +wall-hooks. The vivisector bewailed, loudly and gutturally, this cruel +interruption to his researches in Science's behalf. +</P> + +<P> +One day, two months after the accident, Bruce stood on all four feet +once more, with no vestige left of scars or of lameness. And then, for +the first time, a steady change that had been so slow as to escape any +one's notice dawned upon the Mistress and the Master. It struck them +both at the same moment. And they stared dully at their pet. +</P> + +<P> +The shapeless, bumptious, foolish Pest of two months ago had vanished. +In his place, by a very normal process of nature-magic, stood a +magnificently stately thoroughbred collie. +</P> + +<P> +The big head had tapered symmetrically, and had lost its puppy +formlessness. It was now a head worthy of Landseer's own pencil. The +bonily awkward body had lengthened and had lost its myriad knobs and +angles. It had grown massively graceful. +</P> + +<P> +The former thatch of half-curly and indeterminately yellowish fuzz had +changed to a rough tawny coat, wavy and unbelievably heavy, stippled at +the ends with glossy black. There was a strange depth and repose and +Soul in the dark eyes—yes, and a keen intelligence, too. +</P> + +<P> +It was the old story of the Ugly Duckling, all over again. +</P> + +<P> +"Why!" gasped the Mistress. "He's—he's BEAUTIFUL! And I never knew it." +</P> + +<P> +At her loved voice the great dog moved across to where she sat. Lightly +he laid one little white paw on her knee and looked gravely up into her +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"He's got sense, too," chimed in the Master. "Look at those eyes, if +you doubt it. They're alive with intelligence. It's—it's a miracle! He +can't be the same worthless whelp I wanted to get rid of! He CAN'T!" +</P> + +<P> +And he was not. The long illness, at the most formative time of the +dog's growth, had done its work in developing what, all the time, had +lain latent. The same illness—and the long-enforced personal touch +with humans—had done an equally transforming work on the puppy's +undeveloped mind. The Thackeray-Washington-Lincoln-Bismarck simile had +held good. +</P> + +<P> +What looked like a miracle was no more than the same beautifully simple +process which Nature enacts every day, when she changes an awkward and +dirt-colored cygnet into a glorious swan or a leggily gawky colt into a +superb Derby-winner. But Bruce's metamorphosis seemed none the less +wonderful in the eyes of the two people who had learned to love him. +</P> + +<P> +Somewhere in the hideous wreck of Dr. Halding's motorcar the dog had +found a soul—and the rest had followed as a natural course of growth. +</P> + +<P> +At the autumn dog-show, in Hampton, a "dark-sable-and-white" collie of +unwonted size and beauty walked proudly into the ring close to the +Mistress's side, when the puppy class was called—a class that includes +all dogs under twelve months old. Six minutes later the Mistress was +gleesomely accepting the first-prize blue ribbon, for "best puppy," +from Judge Symonds' own gnarled hand. +</P> + +<P> +Then came the other classes for collies—"Novice," "Open," "Limit," +"Local," "American Bred." And as Bruce paced majestically out of the +ring at last, he was the possessor of five more blue ribbons—as well +as the blue Winner's rosette, for "best collie in the show." +</P> + +<P> +"Great dog you've got there, madam!" commented Symonds in solemn +approval as he handed the Winner's rosette to the Mistress. "Fine dog +in every way. Fine promise. He will go far. One of the best types +I've—" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you really think so?" sweetly replied the Mistress. "Why, one of +the foremost collie judges in America has gone on record as calling him +a 'measly St. Bernard monstrosity.'" +</P> + +<P> +"No?" snorted Symonds, incredulous. "You don't say so! A judge who +would speak so, of that dog, doesn't understand his business. He—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, he does!" contradicted the Mistress, glancing lovingly at her +handful of blue ribbons. "I think he understands his business very well +indeed—NOW!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III. The War Dog +</H3> + +<P> +The guest had decided to wait until next morning, before leaving The +Place, instead of following his first plan of taking a night train to +New York. He was a captain in our regular army and had newly come back +from France to forget an assortment of shrapnel-bites and to teach +practical tactics to rookies. +</P> + +<P> +He reached his decision to remain over night at The Place while he and +the Mistress and the Master were sitting on the vine-hung west veranda +after dinner, watching the flood of sunset change the lake to molten +gold and the sky to pink fire. It would be pleasant to steal another +few hours at this back-country House of Peace before returning to the +humdrum duties of camp. And the guest yielded to the temptation. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm mighty glad you can stay over till morning," said the Master. +"I'll send word to Roberts not to bring up the car." +</P> + +<P> +As he spoke, he scrawled a penciled line on an envelope-back; then he +whistled. +</P> + +<P> +From a cool lounging-place beneath the wistaria-vines arose a huge +collie—stately of form, dark brown and white of coat, deep-set of eye +and with a head that somehow reminded one of a Landseer engraving. The +collie trotted up the steps of the veranda and stood expectant before +the Master. The latter had been folding the envelope lengthwise. Now he +slipped it through the ring in the dog's collar. +</P> + +<P> +"Give it to Roberts," he said. +</P> + +<P> +The big collie turned and set off at a hand-gallop. +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" approved the guest. "Bruce didn't seem to be in any doubt as to +what you wanted him to do. He knows where Roberts is likely to be?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said the Master. "But he can track him and find him, if Roberts +is anywhere within a mile or so from here. That was one of the first +things we taught him—to carry messages. All we do is to slip the paper +into his collar-ring and tell him the name of the person to take it to. +Naturally, he knows us all by name. So it is easy enough for him to do +it. We look on the trick as tremendously clever. But that's because we +love Bruce. Almost any dog can be taught to do it, I suppose. We—" +</P> + +<P> +"You're mistaken!" corrected the guest. "Almost any dog CAN'T be taught +to. Some dogs can, of course; but they are the exception. I ought to +know, for I've been where dog-couriers are a decidedly important +feature of trench-warfare. I stopped at one of the dog-training schools +in England, too, on my way back from Picardy, and watched the teaching +of the dogs that are sent to France and Flanders. Not one in ten can be +trained to carry messages; and not one in thirty can be counted on to +do it reliably. You ought to be proud of Bruce." +</P> + +<P> +"We are," replied the Mistress. "He is one of the family. We think +everything of him. He was such a stupid and awkward puppy, too! Then, +in just a few months, he shaped up, as he is now. And his brain woke." +</P> + +<P> +Bruce interrupted the talk by reappearing on the veranda. The folded +envelope was still in the ring on his collar. The guest glanced +furtively at the Master, expecting some sign of chagrin at the collie's +failure. +</P> + +<P> +Instead, the Master took the envelope, unfolded it and glanced at a +word or two that had been written beneath his own scrawl; then he made +another penciled addition to the envelope's writing, stuck the twisted +paper back into the ring and said— +</P> + +<P> +"Roberts." +</P> + +<P> +Off trotted Bruce on his second trip. +</P> + +<P> +"I had forgotten to say which train you'll have to take in the +morning," explained the Master. "So Roberts wrote, asking what time he +was to have the car at the door after breakfast. It was careless of me." +</P> + +<P> +The guest did not answer. But when Bruce presently returned,—this time +with no paper in his collar-ring,—the officer passed his hand +appraisingly through the dog's heavy coat and looked keenly down into +his dark eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Gun-shy?" asked the guest. "Or perhaps he's never heard a gun fired?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's heard hundreds of guns fired," said the Master. "I never allow a +gun to be fired on The Place, of course, because we've made it a bird +refuge. But Bruce went with us in the car to the testing of the Lewis +machineguns, up at Haskell. They made a most ungodly racket. But +somehow it didn't seem to bother the Big Dog at all." +</P> + +<P> +"H'm!" mused the guest, his professional interest vehemently roused. +"He would be worth a fortune over there. There are a lot of collies in +the service, in one capacity or another—almost as many as the +Airedales and the police dogs. And they are doing grand work. But I +never saw one that was better fitted for it than Bruce. It's a pity he +lives on the wrong side of the Atlantic. He could do his bit, to more +effect than the average human. There are hundreds of thousands of men +for the ranks, but pitifully few perfect courier-dogs." +</P> + +<P> +The Mistress was listening with a tensity which momentarily grew more +painful. The Master's forehead, too, was creased with a new thought +that seemed to hurt him. To break the brief silence that followed the +guest's words, he asked: +</P> + +<P> +"Are the dogs, over there, really doing such great work as the papers +say they are? I read, the other day—" +</P> + +<P> +"'Great work!'" repeated the guest. "I should say so. Not only in +finding the wounded and acting as guards on listening posts, and all +that, but most of all as couriers. There are plenty of times when the +wireless can't be used for sending messages from one point to another, +and where there is no telephone connection, and where the firing is too +hot for a human courier to get through. That is where is the war dogs +have proved their weight in radium. Collies, mostly. There are a +million true stories of their prowess told, at camp-fires. Here are +just two such incidents—both of them on record, by the way, at the +British War Office +</P> + +<P> +"A collie, down near Soissons, was sent across a bad strip of +fire-scourged ground, with a message. A boche sharpshooter fired at him +and shattered his jaw. The dog kept on, in horrible agony, and +delivered the message. Another collie was sent over a still hotter and +much longer stretch of territory with a message. (That was during the +Somme drive of 1916.) He was shot at, a dozen times, as he ran. At last +two bullets got him. He fell over, mortally wounded. He scrambled to +his feet and kept on falling, stumbling, staggering—till he got to his +destination. Then he dropped dead at the side of the Colonel the +message had been sent to. And those are only two of thousands of true +collie-anecdotes. Yet some fools are trying to get American dogs done +away with, as 'non-utilitarian,' while the war lasts! As if the dogs in +France, today, weren't earning their overseas brothers' right to +live—and live well!" +</P> + +<P> +Neither of his hearers made reply when the guest finished his earnest, +eager recital. Neither of them had paid much heed to his final words. +For the Master and the Mistress were looking at each other in mute +unhappiness. The same miserable thought was in the mind of each. And +each knew the thought that was torturing the mind of the other. +</P> + +<P> +Presently, at a glint of inquiry in the Master's eye, the Mistress +suddenly bent over and buried her face in the deep mass of Bruce's ruff +as the dog stood lovingly beside her. Then, still stroking the collie's +silken head, she returned her husband's wretchedly questioning glance +with a resigned little nod. The Master cleared his throat noisily +before he could speak with the calm indifference he sought. Then, +turning to the apparently unnoticing guest, he said— +</P> + +<P> +"I think I told you I tried to get across to France at the very +start—and I was barred because I am past forty and because I have a +bum heart and several other defects that a soldier isn't supposed to +have. My wife and I have tried to do what little we can for the Cause, +on this side of the ocean. But it has seemed woefully little, when we +remember what others are doing. And we have no son we can send." +</P> + +<P> +Again he cleared his throat and went on with sulky ungraciousness: +</P> + +<P> +"We both know what you've been driving at for the past five minutes. +And—and we agree. Bruce can go." +</P> + +<P> +"Great!" applauded the guest. "That's fine! He'll be worth his—" +</P> + +<P> +"If you think we're a couple of fools for not doing this more +willingly," went on the Master with savage earnestness, "just stop to +think what it means to a man to give up the dog he loves. Not to give +him up to some one who will assure him a good home, but to send him +over into that hell, where a German bullet or a shell-fragment or +hunger or disease is certain to get him, soon or late. To think of him +lying smashed and helpless, somewhere in No Man's Land, waiting for +death; or caught by the enemy and eaten! (The Red Cross bulletin says +no less than eight thousand dogs were eaten, in Saxony alone, in 1913, +the year BEFORE the war began.) Or else to be captured and then cut up +by some German vivisector-surgeon in the sacred interests of Science! +Oh, we can bring ourselves to send Bruce over there! But don't expect +us to do it with a good grace. For we can't." +</P> + +<P> +"I—" began the embarrassed guest; but the Mistress chimed in, her +sweet voice not quite steady. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, Captain, we've made such a pet—such a baby—of Bruce! All +his life he has lived here—here where he had the woods to wander in +and the lake to swim in, and this house for his home. He will be so +unhappy and—Well, don't let's talk about that! When I think of the +people who give their sons and everything they have, to the country, I +feel ashamed of not being more willing to let a mere dog go. But then +Bruce is not just a 'mere dog.' He is—he is BRUCE. All I ask is that +if he is injured and not killed, you'll arrange to have him sent back +here to us. We'll pay for it, of course. And will you write to whomever +you happen to know, at that dog-training school in England, and ask +that Bruce be treated nicely while he is training there? He's never +been whipped. He's never needed it, you see." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The Mistress might have spared herself much worry as to Bruce's +treatment in the training school to which he was consigned. It was not +a place of cruelty, but of development. And when, out of the thousands +of dogs sent there, the corps of trainers found one with promise of +strong ability, such a pupil was handled with all the care and +gentleness and skill that a temperamental prima donna might expect. +</P> + +<P> +Such a dog was the big American collie, debarked from a goods car at +the training camp railway station, six weeks after the Mistress and the +Master had consented to his enlistment. And the handlers treated him +accordingly. +</P> + +<P> +The Master himself had taken Bruce to the transport, in Brooklyn, and +had led him aboard the overfull ship. The new sights and sounds around +him interested the home-bred collie. But when the Master turned him +over to the officer in whose charge he was to be for the voyage, +Bruce's deep-set eyes clouded with a sudden heartsick foreboding. +</P> + +<P> +Wrenching himself free from the friendly hand on his collar, he sprang +in pursuit of his departing deity,—the loved Master who was leaving +him alone and desolate among all these strange scenes and noises. The +Master, plodding, sullen and heavy-hearted, toward the gangway, was +aware of a cold nose thrust into his dejected hand. +</P> + +<P> +Looking down he beheld Bruce staring up at him with a world of stark +appeal in his troubled gaze. The Master swallowed hard; then laid his +hand on the beautiful head pressed so confidingly against his knee. +Turning, he led the dog back to the quarters assigned to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Stay here, old friend!" he commanded, huskily. "It's all right. You'll +make good. I know that. And there's a chance in a billion that you'll +come back to us. I'm—I'm not deserting you. And I guess there's +precious little danger that any one on The Place will ever forget you. +It's—it's all right. Millions of humans are doing it. I'd give +everything I've got, if I could go, too. IT'S ALL RIGHT!" +</P> + +<P> +Then Bruce understood at last that he was to stay in this place of +abominations, far from everything he loved; and that he must do so +because the Master ordained it. He made no further effort to break away +and to follow his god ashore. But he shivered convulsively from head to +foot; and his desolate gaze continued to trace the Master's receding +figure out of sight. Then, with a long sigh, he lay down, heavily, his +head between his white forepaws, and resigned himself to whatever of +future misery his deities might have ordained for him. +</P> + +<P> +Ensued a fortnight of mental and bodily anguish, as the inland-reared +dog tasted the horrors of a voyage in a rolling ship, through heaving +seas. Afterward, came the landing at a British port and the train ride +to the camp which was to be his home for the next three months. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce's sense of smell told him the camp contained more dogs than ever +he had beheld in all his brief life put together. But his hearing would +have led him to believe there were not a dozen other dogs within a mile +of him. +</P> + +<P> +From the encampment arose none of the rackety barking which betokens +the presence of many canines, and which deafens visitors to a dog-show. +</P> + +<P> +One of the camp's first and most stringent rules forbade barking, +except under special order. These dogs—or the pick of them—were +destined for work at the front. The bark of a dog has a carrying +quality greater than the combined shouting of ten men. It is the last +sound to follow a balloonist, after he has risen above the reach of all +other earth-noises. +</P> + +<P> +Hence, a chance bark, rising through the night to where some enemy +airman soared with engines turned off, might well lead to the bombing +of hitherto unlocated trenches or detachment-camps. For this and divers +other reasons, the first lesson taught to arriving wardogs was to +abstain from barking. +</P> + +<P> +The dogs were divided, roughly, by breeds, as regarded the line of +training assigned to them. The collies were taught courier-work. The +Airedales, too,—hideous, cruel, snake-headed,—were used as couriers, +as well as to bear Red Cross supplies and to hunt for the wounded. The +gaunt and wolflike police dogs were pressed into the two latter tasks, +and were taught listening-post duty. And so on through all available +breeds,—including the stolidly wise Old English sheepdogs who were to +prove invaluable in finding and succoring and reporting the +wounded,—down to the humble terriers and mongrels who were taught to +rid trenches of vermin. +</P> + +<P> +Everywhere was quiet efficiency and tirelessly patient and skillful +work on the part of the trainers. For Britain's best dog men had been +recruited for service here. On the perfection of their charges' +training might depend the fate of many thousand gallant soldiers. +Wherefore, the training was perfect. +</P> + +<P> +Hundreds of dogs proved stupid or unreliable or gun-shy or too easily +confused in moments of stress. These were weeded out, continually, and +shipped back to the masters who had proffered them. +</P> + +<P> +Others developed with amazing speed and cleverness, grasping their +profession as could few human soldiers. And Bruce, lonely and +heartsore, yet throwing himself into his labors with all the zest of +the best thoroughbred type,—was one of this group. +</P> + +<P> +His early teachings now stood him in good stead. What once had been a +jolly game, for his own amusement and that of the Mistress and the +Master, was now his life-work. Steadily his trainer wrought over him, +bringing out latent abilities that would have dumfounded his earliest +teachers, steadying and directing the gayly dashing intelligence; +upbuilding and rounding out all his native gifts. +</P> + +<P> +A dog of Bruce's rare type made up to the trainers for the dullness of +their average pupils. He learned with bewildering ease. He never forgot +a lesson once taught. +</P> + +<P> +No, the Mistress need not have interceded to save him from beating. As +soon would an impresario think of thrashing Caruso or Paderewski as +would Bruce's glum Scottish trainer have laid whip to this best pupil +of his. Life was bare and strict for Bruce. But life was never unkind +to him, in these first months of exile from The Place. And, bit by bit, +he began to take a joy in his work. +</P> + +<P> +Not for a day,—perhaps not for an hour, did the big collie forget the +home of his babyhood or those he had delighted to worship, there. And +the look of sadness in his dark eyes became a settled aspect. Yet, +here, there was much to interest and to excite him. And he grew to look +forward with pleasure to his daily lessons. +</P> + +<P> +At the end of three months, he was shipped to France. There his +seemingly aimless studies at the training camp were put to active use. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +At the foot of the long Flanders hill-slope the "Here-We-Come" +Regiment, of mixed American and French infantry, held a +caterpillar-shaped line of trenches. +</P> + +<P> +To the right, a few hundred yards away, was posted a Lancashire +regiment, supported by a battalion from Cornwall. On the left were two +French regiments. In front, facing the hill-slope and not a half-mile +distant, was the geometric arrangement of sandbags that marked the +contour of the German first-line trenches. +</P> + +<P> +The hill behind them, the boches in front of them, French and British +troops on either side of them—the Here-We-Comes were helping to defend +what was known as a "quiet" sector. Behind the hill, and on loftier +heights far to the rear, the Allied artillery was posted. Somewhere in +the same general locality lay a division of British reserves. +</P> + +<P> +It is almost a waste of words to have described thus the surroundings +of the Here-We-Comes. For, with no warning at all, those entire +surroundings were about to be changed. +</P> + +<P> +Ludendorff and his little playmates were just then engaged in the +congenial sport of delivering unexpected blows at various successive +points of the Allied line, in an effort to find some spot that was soft +enough to cave in under the impact and let through a horde of gray-clad +Huns. And though none of the defenders knew it, this "quiet" sector had +been chosen for such a minor blow. +</P> + +<P> +The men in higher command, back there behind the hill crest, had a +belated inkling, though, of a proposed attack on the lightly defended +front trenches. For the Allied airplanes which drifted in the upper +heavens like a scattered handful of dragon-flies were not drifting +there aimlessly. They were the eyes of the snakelike columns that +crawled so blindly on the scarred brown surface of the earth. And those +"eyes" had discerned the massing of a force behind the German line had +discerned and had duly reported it. +</P> + +<P> +The attack might come in a day. It might not come in a week. But it was +coming—unless the behind-the-lines preparations were a gigantic feint. +</P> + +<P> +A quiet dawn, in the quiet trenches of the quiet sector. Desultory +artillery and somewhat less desultory sniping had prevailed throughout +the night, and at daybreak; but nothing out of the ordinary. +</P> + +<P> +Two men on listening-post had been shot; and so had an overcurious +sentry who peeped just an inch too far above a parapet. A shell had +burst in a trench, knocking the telephone connection out of gear and +half burying a squad of sleepers under a lot of earth. Otherwise, +things were drowsily dull. +</P> + +<P> +In a dugout sprawled Top-Sergeant Mahan,—formerly of Uncle Sam's +regular army, playing an uninspiring game of poker with Sergeant Dale +of his company and Sergeant Vivier of the French infantry. The +Frenchman was slow in learning poker's mysteries. +</P> + +<P> +And, anyway, all three men were temporarily penniless and were forced +to play for I.O.U's—which is stupid sport, at best. +</P> + +<P> +So when, from the German line, came a quick sputt-sputt-sputt from a +half-dozen sharpshooters' rifles, all three men looked up from their +desultory game in real interest. Mahan got to his feet with a grunt. +</P> + +<P> +"Some other fool has been trying to see how far he can rubber above the +sandbags without drawing boche fire," he hazarded, starting out to +investigate. "It's a miracle to me how a boche bullet can go through +heads that are so full of first-quality ivory as those rubberers'." +</P> + +<P> +But Mahan's strictures were quite unwarranted. The sharpshooters were +not firing at the parapet. Their scattering shots were flying high, and +hitting against the slope of the hill behind the trenches. +</P> + +<P> +Adown this shell-pocked hillside, as Mahan and the other disturbed +idlers gazed, came cantering a huge dark-brown-and-white collie. The +morning wind stirred the black stippling that edged his tawny fur, +showing the gold-gray undercoat beneath it. His white chest was like a +snowdrift, and offered a fine mark for the German rifles. A bullet or +two sang whiningly past his gayly up-flung head. +</P> + +<P> +A hundred voices from the Here-We-Come trenches hailed the advancing +dog. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, it's Bruce!" cried Mahan in glad welcome. "I might 'a' known he +or another of the collies would be along. I might 'a' known it, when +the telephones went out of commission. He—" +</P> + +<P> +"Regardez-donc!" interrupted the admiring Vivier. "He acts like bullets +was made of flies! Mooch he care for boche lead-pills, ce brave vieux!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," growled Dale worriedly; "and one of these days a bullet will +find its way into that splendid carcass of his. He's been shot at, a +thousand times, to my own knowledge. And all I ask is a chance, with a +rifle-butt, at the skull of the Hun who downs him!" +</P> + +<P> +"Downs Bruce?" queried Vivier in fine scorn. "The boche he is no borned +who can do it. Bruce has what you call it, in Ainglish, the 'charm +life.' He go safe, where other caniche be pepper-potted full of holes. +I've watch heem. I know." +</P> + +<P> +Unscathed by the several shots that whined past him, Bruce came to a +halt at the edge of a traverse. There he stood, wagging his plume of a +tail in grave friendliness, while a score of khaki-clad arms reached up +to lift him bodily into the trench. +</P> + +<P> +A sergeant unfastened the message from the dog's collar and posted off +to the colonel with it. +</P> + +<P> +The message was similar to one which had been telephoned to each of the +supporting bodies, to right and to left of the Here-We-Comes. It bade +the colonel prepare to withdraw his command from the front trenches at +nightfall, and to move back on the main force behind the hill-crest. +The front trenches were not important; and they were far too lightly +manned to resist a mass attack. Wherefore the drawing-in and +consolidating of the whole outflung line. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce, his work done now, had leisure to respond to the countless +offers of hospitality that encompassed him. One man brought him a slice +of cold broiled bacon. Another spread pork-grease over a bit of bread +and proffered it. A third unearthed from some sacredly guarded +hiding-place an excessively stale half-inch square of sweet chocolate. +</P> + +<P> +Had the dog so chosen, he might then and there have eaten himself to +death on the multitude of votive offerings. But in a few minutes he had +had enough, and he merely sniffed in polite refusal at all further +gifts. +</P> + +<P> +"See?" lectured Mahan. "That's the beast of it! When you say a fellow +eats or drinks 'like a beast,' you ought to remember that a beast won't +eat or drink a mouthful more than is good for him." +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" commented the somewhat corpulent Dale. "I'm glad I'm not a +beast—especially on pay-day." +</P> + +<P> +Presently Bruce tired of the ovation tendered him. These ovations were +getting to be an old story. They had begun as far back as his +training-camp days—when the story of his joining the army was told by +the man to whom The Place's guest had written commending the dog to the +trainers' kindness. +</P> + +<P> +At the training-camp this story had been reenforced by the chief +collie-teacher—a dour little Hieland Scot named McQuibigaskie, who on +the first day declared that the American dog had more sense and more +promise and more soul "than a' t'other tykes south o' Kirkcudbright +Brae." +</P> + +<P> +Being only mortal, Bruce found it pleasanter to be admired and petted +than ignored or kicked. He was impersonally friendly with the soldiers, +when he was off duty; and he relished the dainties they were forever +thrusting at him. +</P> + +<P> +But at times his soft eyes would grow dark with homesickness for the +quiet loveliness of The Place and for the Mistress and the Master who +were his loyally worshiped gods. Life had been so happy and so sweetly +uneventful for him, at The Place! And there had been none of the awful +endless thunder and the bewilderingly horrible smells and gruesome +sights which here met him at every turn. +</P> + +<P> +The dog's loving heart used to grow sick with it all; and he longed +unspeakably for home. But he was a gallant soldier, and he did his work +not only well, but with a snap and a dash and an almost uncanny +intelligence which made him an idol to the men. +</P> + +<P> +Presently, now, having eaten all he wanted and having been patted and +talked to until he craved solitude, Bruce strolled ever to an empty +dugout, curled up on a torn blanket there, put his nose between his +white paws and went to sleep. +</P> + +<P> +The German artillery-fire had swelled from an occasional explosion to a +ceaseless roar, that made the ground vibrate and heave, and that beat +on the eardrums with nauseating iterance. But it did not bother Bruce. +For months he had been used to this sort of annoyance, and he had +learned to sleep snugly through it all. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile, outside his dugout, life was speeding up at a dizzying rate. +The German artillery had sprung to sudden and wholesale activity. Far +to the right of the Here-We-Come regiment's trenches a haze had begun +to crawl along the ground and to send snaky tendrils high in +air-tendrils that blended into a single grayish-green wall as they +moved forward. The hazewall's gray-green was shot by yellow and purple +tinges as the sun's weak rays touched it. To the left of the +Here-We-Comes, and then in front of them, appeared the same wall of +billowing gas. +</P> + +<P> +The Here-We-Comes were ready for it with their hastily donned masks. +But there was no need of the precaution. By one of the sudden +wind—freaks so common in the story of the war, the gas-cloud was cleft +in two by a swirling breeze, and it rolled dankly on, to right and +left, leaving the central trenches clear. +</P> + +<P> +Now, an artillery barrage, accompanied or followed by a +gas-demonstration, can mean but one thing: a general attack. Therefore +telephonic word came to the detachments to left and right of the +Here-We-Comes, to fall back, under cover of the gas-cloud, to safer +positions. Two dogs were sent, with the same order, to the +Here-We-Comes. (One of the dogs was gassed. A bit of shrapnel found the +other.) +</P> + +<P> +Thus it was that the Here-We-Comes were left alone (though they did not +know it), to hold the position,—with no support on either side, and +with a mere handful of men wherewith to stem the impending rush. +</P> + +<P> +On the heels of the dispersing gas-cloud, and straight across the +half-mile or less of broken ground, came a line of gray. In five +successive waves, according to custom, the boches charged. Each wave +hurled itself forward as fast as efficiency would let it, in face of +the opposing fire, and as far as human endurance would be goaded. Then +it went down, and its survivors attached themselves to the succeeding +wave. +</P> + +<P> +Hence, by the time the fifth and mightiest wave got into motion, it was +swelled by the survivors of all four of its predecessors and was an +all-but-resistless mass of shouting and running men. +</P> + +<P> +The rifles and machine-guns of the Here-We-Comes played merrily into +the advancing gray swarms, stopping wave after wave, and at last +checking the fifth and "master" wave almost at the very brink of the +Franco-American parapet. +</P> + +<P> +"That's how they do!" Mahan pantingly explained to a rather shaky +newcomer, as the last wave fell back. "They count on numbers and +bullrushes to get them there. If they'd had ten thousand men, in that +rush, instead of five thousand, they'd have got us. And if they had +twice as many men in their whole army as they have, they'd win this +war. But praise be, they haven't twice as many! That is one of the +fifty-seven reasons why the Allies are going to lick Germany." +</P> + +<P> +Mahan talked jubilantly. The same jubilation ran all along the line of +victors. But the colonel and his staff were not rejoicing. They had +just learned of the withdrawal of the forces to either side of them, +and they knew they themselves could not hope to stand against a second +and larger charge. +</P> + +<P> +Such a charge the enemy were certain to make. The Germans, too, must +soon learn of the defection of the supports. It was now only a question +of an hour or less before a charge with a double-enveloping movement +would surround and bag the Here-We-Comes, catching the whole regiment +in an inescapable trap. +</P> + +<P> +To fall back, now, up that long bare hillside, under full fire of the +augmented German artillery, would mean a decimating of the entire +command. The Here-We-Comes could not retreat. They could not hope to +hold their ground. The sole chance for life lay in the arrival of +strong reenforcements from the rear, to help them hold the trenches +until night, or to man the supporting positions. Reserves were within +easy striking distance. But, as happened so many times in the war, +there was no routine way to summon them in time. +</P> + +<P> +It was the chance sight of a crumpled message lying on his dugout-table +that reminded the colonel of Bruce's existence and of his presence in +the front trench. It was a matter of thirty seconds for the colonel to +scrawl an urgent appeal and a brief statement of conditions. Almost as +soon as the note was ready, an orderly appeared at the dugout entrance, +convoying the newly awakened Bruce. +</P> + +<P> +The all-important message was fastened in place. The colonel himself +went to the edge of the traverse, and with his own arms lifted the +eighty-pound collie to the top. +</P> + +<P> +There was tenderness as well as strength in the lifting arms. As he set +Bruce down on the brink, the colonel said, as if speaking to a +fellow-human: +</P> + +<P> +"I hate to do it, old chap. I HATE to! There isn't one chance in three +of your getting all the way up the hill alive. But there wouldn't be +one chance in a hundred, for a MAN. The boches will be on the lookout +for just this move. And their best sharpshooters will be waiting for +you—even if you dodge the shrapnel and the rest of the artillery. I'm +sorry! And—good-by." +</P> + +<P> +Then, tersely, he rasped out the command— +</P> + +<P> +"Bruce! Headquarters! Headquarters! QUICK!" +</P> + +<P> +At a bound, the dog was gone. +</P> + +<P> +Breasting the rise of the hill, Bruce set off at a sweeping run, his +tawny-and-white mane flying in the wind. +</P> + +<P> +A thousand eyes, from the Here-We-Come trenches, watched his flight. +And as many eyes from the German lines saw the huge collie's dash up +the coverless slope. +</P> + +<P> +Scarce had Bruce gotten fairly into his stride when the boche bullets +began to sing—not a desultory little flurry of shots, as before; but +by the score, and with a murderous earnestness. When he had appeared, +on his way to the trenches, an hour earlier, the Germans had opened +fire on him, merely for their own amusement—upon the same merry +principle which always led them to shoot at an Ally war-dog. But now +they understood his all-important mission; and they strove with their +best skill to thwart it. +</P> + +<P> +The colonel of the Here-We-Comes drew his breath sharply between his +teeth. He did not regret the sending of the collie. It had been a move +of stark military necessity. And there was an off chance that it might +mean the saving of his whole command. +</P> + +<P> +But the colonel was fond of Bruce, and it angered him to hear the +frantic effort of the boche marksmen to down so magnificent a creature. +The bullets were spraying all about the galloping dog, kicking up tiny +swirls of dust at his heels and in front of him and to either side. +</P> + +<P> +Mahan, watching, with streaming eyes and blaspheming lips, recalled the +French sergeant's theory that Bruce bore a charmed life. And he prayed +that Vivier might be right. But in his prayer was very little faith. +For under such a fusillade it seemed impossible that at least one +highpower bullet should not reach the collie before the slope could be +traversed. A fast-running dog is not an easy mark for a +bullet—especially if the dog be a collie, with a trace of +wolf—ancestry in his gait. A dog, at best, does not gallop straight +ahead as does a horse. There is almost always a sidewise lilt to his +run. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce was still further aided by the shell-plowed condition of the +hillside. Again and again he had to break his stride, to leap some +shell-hole. Often he had to encircle such holes. More than once he +bounded headlong down into a gaping crater and scrambled up its far +side. These erratic moves, and the nine-hundred-yard distance (a +distance that was widening at every second) made the sharpshooters' +task anything but an exact science. +</P> + +<P> +Mahan's gaze followed the dog's every step. Bruce had cleared more than +three-fourths of the slope. The top-sergeant permitted himself the +luxury of a broad grin. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll buy Vivier all the red-ink wine he can gargle, next pay-day!" he +vowed. "He was dead right about the dog. No bullet was ever molded that +can get—" +</P> + +<P> +Mahan broke off in his exultation, with an explosive oath, as a new +note in the firing smote upon his trained hearing. +</P> + +<P> +"The swine!" he roared. "The filthy, unsportsmanly, dog-eating Prussian +swine! They're turning MACHINE-GUNS on him!" +</P> + +<P> +In place of the intermittent rattle of rifleshots now came the purring +cough of rapidfire guns. The bullets hit the upper hillside in swathes, +beginning a few yards behind the flying collie and moving upward toward +him like a sweeping of an unseen scythe. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the wind-up!" groaned Mahan. "Lord, send me an even break +against one of those Hun machinegunners some day! If—" +</P> + +<P> +Again Mahan failed to finish his train of thought. He stared +open-mouthed up the hill. Almost at the very summit, within a rod or +two of the point where the crest would intervene between him and his +foes, Bruce whirled in mid-air and fell prone. +</P> + +<P> +The fast-following swaths of machine-gun bullets had not reached him. +But another German enemy had. From behind a heap of offal, on the +crest, a yellow-gray dog had sprung, and had launched himself bodily +upon Bruce's flank as the unnoticing collie had flashed past him. +</P> + +<P> +The assailant was an enormous and hyena-like German police-dog. He was +one of the many of his breed that were employed (for work or food) in +the German camps, and which used to sneak away from their hard-kicking +soldier-owners to ply a more congenial trade as scavengers, and as +seekers for the dead. For, in traits as well as in looks, the +police-dog often emulates the ghoulish hyena. +</P> + +<P> +Seeing the approaching collie (always inveterate foe of his kind), the +police-dog had gauged the distance and had launched his surprise attack +with true Teuton sportsmanship and efficiency. Down went Bruce under +the fierce weight that crashed against his shoulder. But before the +other could gain his coveted throat-grip, Bruce was up again. Like a +furry whirlwind he was at the police-dog, fighting more like a wolf +than a civilized collie—tearing into his opponent with a maniac rage, +snapping, slashing; his glittering white fangs driving at a dozen +vulnerable points in a single second. +</P> + +<P> +It was as though Bruce knew he had no time to waste from his +life-and-death mission. He could not elude this enemy, so he must +finish him as quickly as possible. +</P> + +<P> +"Give me your rifle!" sputtered Mahan to the soldier nearest him. "I'll +take one potshot at that Prussian cur, before the machine-guns get the +two of 'em. Even if I hit Bruce by mistake, he'd rather die by a +Christian Yankee-made bullet than—" +</P> + +<P> +Just then the scythelike machine-gun fire reached the hillcrest +combatants. And in the same instant a shell smote the ground, +apparently between them. Up went a geyser of smoke and dirt and rocks. +When the cloud settled, there was a deep gully in the ground where a +moment earlier Bruce and the police-dog had waged their death-battle. +</P> + +<P> +"That settles it!" muttered the colonel. +</P> + +<P> +And he went to make ready for such puny defense as his men might hope +to put up against the German rush. +</P> + +<P> +While these futile preparations were still under way, terrific +artillery fire burst from the Allied batteries behind the hill, +shielding the Here-We-Come trenches with a curtain of fire whose lower +folds draped themselves right unlovingly around the German lines. Under +cover of this barrage, down the hill swarmed the Allied reserves! +</P> + +<P> +"How did you get word?" demanded the astonished colonel of the +Here-We-Comes, later in the day. +</P> + +<P> +"From your note, of course," replied the general he had questioned. +"The collie—old Bruce." +</P> + +<P> +"Bruce?" babbled the colonel foolishly. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," answered the general. "Who else? But I'm afraid it's the +last message he'll ever deliver. He came rolling and staggering up to +headquarters—one mass of blood, and three inches thick with caked +dirt. His right side was torn open from a shell-wound, and he had two +machine-gun bullets in his shoulder. He's deaf as a post, too, from +shell-shock. He tumbled over in a heap on the steps of headquarters. +But he GOT there. That's Bruce, all over. That's the best type of +collie, all over. Some of us were for putting him out of his misery +with a shot through the head. We'd have done it, too, if it had been +any other dog. But the surgeon-general waded in and took a hand in the +game—carried Bruce to his own quarters. We left him working over the +dog himself. And he swears Bruce will pull through!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV. When Eyes Were No Use +</H3> + +<P> +"Yes, it's an easy enough trade to pick up," lectured Top-Sergeant +Mahan, formerly of the regular army. "You've just got to remember a few +things. But you've got to keep on remembering those few, all the time. +If you forget one of 'em, it's the last bit of forgetting you're ever +likely to do." +</P> + +<P> +Top-Sergeant Mahan, of the mixed French-and-American regiment known as +"Here-We-Come," was squatting at ease on the trench firing-step. From +that professorial seat he was dispensing useful knowledge to a group of +fellow-countrymen-newly arrived from the base, to pad the +"Here-We-Come" ranks, which had been thinned at the Rache attack. +</P> + +<P> +"What sort of things have we got to remember, Sergeant?" jauntily asked +a lanky Missourian. "We've got the drill pretty pat; and the trench +instructions and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Gee!" ejaculated Mahan. "I had no idea of that! Then why don't you +walk straight ahead into Berlin? If you know all you say you do, about +war, there's nothing more for you to learn. I'll drop a line to General +Foch and suggest to him that you rookies be detailed to teach the game +to us oldsters." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't mean to be fresh," apologized the jaunty one. "Won't you go +ahead and tell us the things we need to remember?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well," exhorted Mahan, appeased by the newcomer's humility, "there +aren't so many of them, after all. Learn to duck, when you hear a +Minnie grunt or a whizzbang cut loose; or a five-nine begin to whimper. +Learn not to bother to duck when the rifles get to jabbering—for +you'll never hear the bullet that gets you. Study the nocturnal habits +of machine-guns and the ways of snipers and the right time not to play +the fool. And keep saying to yourself: 'The bullet ain't molded that +can get ME!' Mean it when you say it. When you've learned those few +things, the rest of the war-game is dead easy." +</P> + +<P> +"Except," timidly amended old Sergeant Vivier, the gray little +Frenchman, "except when eyes are—are what you call it, no use." +"That's right," assented Mahan. "In the times when eyes are no use, all +rules fail. And then the only thing you can do is to trust to your +Yankee luck. I remember—" +</P> + +<P> +"'When eyes are no use'?" repeated the recruit. "If you mean after +dark, at night—haven't we got the searchlights and the starshells and +all that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Son," replied Mahan, "we have. Though I don't see how you ever guessed +such an important secret. But since you know everything, maybe you'll +just kindly tell us what good all the lights in the world are going to +do us when the filthy yellow-gray fog begins to ooze up out of the mud +and the shell-holes, and the filthy gray mist oozes down from the +clouds to meet it. Fog is the one thing that all the war-science won't +overcome. A fogpenetrator hasn't been invented yet. If it had been, +there'd be many a husky lad living today, who has gone West, this past +few years, on account of the fogs. Fog is the boche's pet. It gives +Fritzy a lovely chance to creep up or, us. It—" +</P> + +<P> +"It is the helper of US, too," suggested old Vivier. "More than one +time, it has kept me safe when I was on patrol. And did it not help to +save us at Rache, when—" +</P> + +<P> +"The fog may have helped us, one per cent, at Rache," admitted Mahan. +"But Bruce did ninety-nine per cent of the saving." +</P> + +<P> +"A Scotch general?" asked the recruit, as Vivier nodded cordial +affirmation of Mahan's words, and as others of the old-timers muttered +approval. +</P> + +<P> +"No," contradicted Mahan. "A Scotch collie. If you were dry behind the +ears, in this life, you wouldn't have to ask who Bruce is." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't understand," faltered the rookie, suspicious of a possible +joke. +</P> + +<P> +"You will soon," Mahan told him. "Bruce will be here to-day. I heard +the K.O. saying the big dog is going to be sent down with some +dispatches or something, from headquarters. It's his first trip since +he was cut up so." +</P> + +<P> +"I am saving him—this!" proclaimed Vivier, disgorging from the flotsam +of his pocket a lump of once-white sugar. "My wife, she smuggle three +of these to me in her last paquet. One I eat in my cafe noir; one I +present to mon cher vieux, ce bon Mahan; one I keep for the grand dog +what save us all that day." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the idea?" queried the mystified rookie. "I don't—" +</P> + +<P> +"We were stuck in the front line of the Rache salient," explained +Mahan, eager to recount his dog-friend's prowess. "On both sides our +supports got word to fall back. We couldn't get the word, because our +telephone connection was knocked galley-west. There we were, waiting +for a Hun attack to wipe us out. We couldn't fall back, for they were +peppering the hillslope behind us. We were at the bottom. They'd have +cut us to ribbons if we'd shown our carcasses in the open. Bruce was +here, with a message he'd brought. The K.O. sent him back to +headquarters for the reserves. The boche heavies and snipers and +machine-guns all cut loose to stop him as he scooted up the hill. And a +measly giant of a German police dog tried to kill him, too. Bruce got +through the lot of them; and he reached headquarters with the SOS call +that saved us. The poor chap was cut and gouged and torn by bullets and +shell-scraps, and he was nearly dead from shell-shock, too. But the +surgeon general worked over him, himself, and pulled him back to life. +He—" +</P> + +<P> +"He is a loved pet of a man and a woman in your America, I have heard +one say," chimed in Vivier. "And his home, there, was in the quiet +country. He was lent to the cause, as a patriotic offering, ce brave! +And of a certainty, he has earned his welcome." +</P> + +<P> +When Bruce, an hour later, trotted into the trenches, on the way to the +"Here-We-Come" colonel's quarters, he was received like a visiting +potentate. Dozens of men hailed him eagerly by name as he made his way +to his destination with the message affixed to his collar. +</P> + +<P> +Many of these men were his well-remembered friends and comrades. Mahan +and Vivier, and one or two more, he had grown to like—as well as he +could like any one in that land of horrors, three thousand miles away +from The Place, where he was born, and from the Mistress and the +Master, who were his loyally worshiped gods. +</P> + +<P> +Moreover, being only mortal and afflicted with a hearty appetite, Bruce +loved the food and other delicacies the men were forever offering him +as a variation on the stodgy fare dished out to him and his fellow +war-dogs. +</P> + +<P> +As much to amuse and interest the soldiers whose hero he was, as for +any special importance in the dispatch he carried, Bruce had been sent +now to the trenches of the Here-We-Comes. It was his first visit to the +regiment he had saved, since the days of the Rache assault two months +earlier. Thanks to supremely clever surgery and to tender care, the dog +was little the worse for his wounds. His hearing gradually had come +back. In one shoulder he had a very slight stiffness which was not a +limp, and a new-healed furrow scarred the left side of his tawny coat. +Otherwise he was as good as new. +</P> + +<P> +As Bruce trotted toward the group that so recently had been talking of +him, the Missouri recruit watched with interest for the dog's joy at +this reunion with his old friends. Bruce's snowy chest and +black-stippled coat were fluffed out by many recent baths. His splendid +head high and his dark eyes bright, the collie advanced toward the +group. +</P> + +<P> +Mahan greeted him joyously. Vivier stretched out a hand which displayed +temptingly the long-hoarded lump of sugar. A third man produced, from +nowhere in particular, a large and meat-fringed soup-bone. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder which of you he'll come to, first," said the interested +Missourian. +</P> + +<P> +The question was answered at once, and right humiliatingly. For Bruce +did not falter in his swinging stride as he came abreast of the group. +Not by so much as a second glance did he notice Mahan's hail and the +tempting food. +</P> + +<P> +As he passed within six inches of the lump of sugar which Vivier was +holding out to him, the dog's silken ears quivered slightly, sure sign +of hard-repressed emotion in a thoroughbred collie,—but he gave no +other manifestation that he knew any one was there. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'll be blessed!" snickered the Missourian in high derision, as +Bruce passed out of sight around an angle of the trench. "So that's the +pup who is such a pal of you fellows, is he? Gee, but it was a treat to +see how tickled he was to meet you again!" +</P> + +<P> +To the rookie's amazement none of his hearers seemed in the least +chagrined over the dogs chilling disregard of them. Instead, Mahan +actually grunted approbation. +</P> + +<P> +"He'll be back," prophesied the Sergeant. "Don't you worry. He'll be +back. We ought to have had more sense than try to stop him when he's on +duty. He has better discipline than the rest of us. That's one of very +first things they teach a courier-dog—to pay no attention to anybody, +when he's on dispatch duty. When Bruce has delivered his message to the +K.O., he'll have the right to hunt up his chums. And no one knows it +better'n Bruce himself." +</P> + +<P> +"It was a sin—a thoughtlessness—of me to hold the sugar at him," said +old Vivier. "Ah, but he is a so good soldier, ce brave Bruce! He look +not to the left nor yet to the right, nor yet to the so-desired +sugar-lump. He keep his head at attention! All but the furry tips of +his ears. Them he has not yet taught to be good soldiers. They tremble, +when he smell the sugar and the good soup-bone. They quiver like the +little leaf. But he keep on. He—" +</P> + +<P> +There was a scurry of fast-cantering feet. Around the angle of the +trench dashed Bruce. Head erect, soft dark eyes shining with a light of +gay mischief, he galloped up to the grinning Sergeant Vivier and stood. +The dog's great plume of a tail was wagging violently. His tulip ears +were cocked. His whole interest in life was fixed on the precious lump +of sugar which Vivier held out to him. +</P> + +<P> +From puppyhood, Bruce had adored lump sugar. Even at The Place, sugar +had been a rarity for him, for the Mistress and the Master had known +the damage it can wreak upon a dog's teeth and digestion. Yet, once in +a while, as a special luxury, the Mistress had been wont to give him a +solitary lump of sugar. +</P> + +<P> +Since his arrival in France, the dog had never seen nor scented such a +thing until now. Yet he did not jump for the gift. He did not try to +snatch it from Vivier. Instead, he waited until the old Frenchman held +it closer toward him, with the invitation: +</P> + +<P> +"Take it, mon vieux! It is for you." +</P> + +<P> +Then and then only did Bruce reach daintily forward and grip the grimy +bit of sugar between his mighty jaws. Vivier stroked the collie's head +while Bruce wagged his tail and munched the sugar and blinked +gratefully up at the donor. Mahan looked on, enviously. "A dog's got +forty-two teeth, instead of the thirty-two that us humans have to chew +on," observed the Sergeant. "A vet' told me that once. And sugar is bad +for all forty-two of 'em. Maybe you didn't know that, Monsoo Vivier? +Likely, at this rate, we'll have to chip in before long and buy poor +Brucie a double set of false teeth. Just because you've put his real +ones out of business with lumps of sugar!" +</P> + +<P> +Vivier looked genuinely concerned at this grim forecast. Bruce wandered +across to the place where the donor of the soup-bone brandished his +offering. Other men, too, were crowding around with gifts. +</P> + +<P> +Between petting and feeding, the collie spent a busy hour among his +comrades-at-arms. He was to stay with the "Here-We-Comes" until the +following day, and then carry back to headquarters a reconnaissance +report. +</P> + +<P> +At four o'clock that afternoon the sky was softly blue and the air was +unwontedly clear. By five o'clock a gentle India-summer haze blurred +the world's sharper outlines. By six a blanket-fog rolled in, and the +air was wetly unbreatheable. The fog lay so thick over the soggy earth +that objects ten feet away were invisible. +</P> + +<P> +"This," commented Sergeant Mahan, "is one of the times I was talking +about this morning—when eyes are no use. This is sure the country for +fogs, in war-time. The cockneys tell me the London fogs aren't a patch +on 'em." +</P> + +<P> +The "Here-We-Comes" were encamped, for the while, at the edge of a +sector from whence all military importance had recently been removed by +a convulsive twist of a hundred-mile battle-front. In this dull +hole-in-a-corner the new-arrived rivets were in process of welding into +the more veteran structure of the mixed regiment. +</P> + +<P> +Not a quarter-mile away—across No Man's Land and athwart two barriers +of barbed wire—lay a series of German trenches. Now, in all +probability, and from all outward signs, the occupants of this boche +position consisted only of a regiment or two which had been so badly +cut up, in a foiled drive, as to need a month of non-exciting routine +before going back into more perilous service. +</P> + +<P> +Yet the commander of the division to which the "Here-We-Comes" were +attached did not trust to probabilities nor to outward signs. He had +been at the front long enough to realize that the only thing likely to +happen was the thing which seemed unlikeliest. And he felt a morbid +curiosity to learn more about the personnel of those dormant German +trenches. +</P> + +<P> +Wherefore he had sent an order that a handful of the "Here-We-Comes" go +forth into No Man's Land, on the first favorable night, and try to pick +up a boche prisoner or two for questioning-purposes. A scouring of the +doubly wired area between the hostile lines might readily harvest some +solitary sentinel or some other man on special duty, or even the +occupants of a listening-post. And the division commander earnestly +desired to question such prisoner or prisoners. The fog furnished an +ideal night for such an expedition. +</P> + +<P> +Thus it was that a very young lieutenant and Sergeant Mahan and ten +privates—the lanky Missourian among them—were detailed for the +prisoner-seeking job. At eleven o'clock, they crept over the top, +single file. +</P> + +<P> +It was a night wherein a hundred searchlights and a million star-flares +would not have made more impression on the density of the fog than +would the striking of a safety match. Yet the twelve reconnoiterers +were instructed to proceed in the cautious manner customary to such +nocturnal expeditions into No Man's Land. They moved forward at the +lieutenant's order, tiptoeing abreast, some twenty feet apart from one +another, and advancing in three-foot strides. At every thirty steps the +entire line was required to halt and to reestablish contact—in other +words, to "dress" on the lieutenant, who was at the extreme right. +</P> + +<P> +This maneuver was more time-wasting and less simple than its recital +would imply. For in the dark, unaccustomed legs are liable to +miscalculation in the matter of length of stride, even when shell-holes +and other inequalities of ground do not complicate the calculations +still further. And it is hard to maintain a perfectly straight line +when moving forward through choking fog and over scores of obstacles. +</P> + +<P> +The halts for realignment consumed much time and caused no little +confusion. Nervousness began to encompass the Missouri recruit. He was +as brave as the next man. But there is something creepy about walking +with measured tread through an invisible space, with no sound but the +stealthy pad-pad-pad of equally hesitant footsteps twenty feet away on +either side. The Missourian was grateful for the intervals that brought +the men into mutual contact, as the eerie march continued. +</P> + +<P> +The first line of barbed wire was cut and passed. Then followed an +endless groping progress across No Man's Land, and several delays, as +one man or another had trouble in finding contact with his neighbor. +</P> + +<P> +At last the party came to the German wires. The lieutenant had drawn on +a rubber glove. In his gloved hand he grasped a strip of steel which he +held in front of him, like a wand, fanning the air with it. +</P> + +<P> +As he came to the entanglement, he probed the barbed wire carefully +with his wand, watching for an ensuing spark. For the Germans more than +once had been known to electrify their wires, with fatal results to +luckless prowlers. +</P> + +<P> +These wires, to-night, were not charged. And, with pliers, the +lieutenant and Mahan started to cut a passageway through them. +</P> + +<P> +As the very first strand parted under his pressure, Mahan laid one hand +warningly on the lieutenant's sleeve, and then passed the same +prearranged warning down the line to the left. +</P> + +<P> +Silence—moveless, tense, sharply listening silence—followed his +motion. Then the rest of the party heard the sound which Mahan's keener +ears had caught a moment earlier—the thud of many marching feet. Here +was no furtive creeping, as when the twelve Yankees had moved along. +Rather was it the rhythmic beat of at least a hundred pairs of +shapeless army boots—perhaps of more. The unseen marchers were moving +wordlessly, but with no effort at muffling the even tread of their +multiple feet. +</P> + +<P> +"They're coming this way!" breathed Sergeant Mahan almost without +sound, his lips close to the excited young lieutenant's ear. "And +they're not fifty paces off. That means they're boches. So near the +German wire, our men would either be crawling or else charging, not +marching! It's a company—maybe a battalion—coming back from a +reconnaissance, and making for a gap in their own wire some where near +here. If we lay low there's an off chance they may pass us by." +</P> + +<P> +Without awaiting the lieutenant's order, Mahan passed along the signal +for every man to drop to earth and lie there. He all but forced the +eagerly gesticulating lieutenant to the ground. +</P> + +<P> +On came the swinging tread of the Germans. Mahan, listening +breathlessly, tried to gauge the distance and the direction. He +figured, presently, that the break the Germans had made in their wire +could be only a few yards below the spot where he and the lieutenant +had been at work with the pliers. Thus the intruders, from their +present course, must inevitably pass very close to the prostrate +Americans—so close, perhaps, as to brush against the nearest of them, +or even to step on one or more of the crouching figures. +</P> + +<P> +Mahan whispered to the man on his immediate left, the rookie from +Missouri: +</P> + +<P> +"Edge closer to the wire—close as you can wiggle, and lie flat. Pass +on the word." +</P> + +<P> +The Missourian obeyed. Before writhing his long body forward against +the bristly mass of wire he passed the instructions on to the man at +his own left. +</P> + +<P> +But his nerves were at breaking-point. +</P> + +<P> +It had been bad enough to crawl through the blind fog, with the ghostly +steps of his comrades pattering softly at either side of him. But it +was a thousand times harder to lie helpless here, in the choking fog +and on the soaked ground, while countless enemies were bearing down, +unseen, upon him, on one side, and an impenetrable wire cut off his +retreat on the other. +</P> + +<P> +The Missourian had let his imagination begin to work; always a mistake +in a private soldier. He was visualizing the moment when this tramping +German force should become aware of the presence of their puny foes and +should slaughter them against the merciless wires. It would not be a +fair stand-up fight, this murder-rush of hundreds of men against twelve +who were penned in and could not maneuver nor escape. And the thought +of it was doing queer things to the rookie's overwrought nerves. +</P> + +<P> +Having passed the word to creep closer to the wires, he began to +execute the order in person, with no delay at all. But he was a +fraction of a second too late. The Germans were moving in +hike-formation with "points" thrown out in advance to either side—a +"point" being a private soldier who, for scouting and other purposes, +marches at some distance from the main body. +</P> + +<P> +The point, ahead of the platoon, had swerved too far to the left, in +the blackness—an error that would infallibly have brought him up +against the wires, with considerable force, in another two steps. But +the Missourian was between him and the wires. And the point's +heavy-shod foot came down, heel first, on the back of the rookie's +out-groping hand. Such a crushing impact, on the hand-back, is one of +the most agonizing minor injuries a man can sustain. And this fact the +Missourian discovered with great suddenness. +</P> + +<P> +His too-taut nerves forced from his throat a yell that split the +deathly stillness with an ear-piercing vehemence. He sprang to his +feet, forgetful of orders intent only on thrusting his bayonet through +the Hun who had caused such acute torture to his hand. Half way up, the +rookie's feet went out from under him in the slimy mud. He caromed +against the point, then fell headlong. +</P> + +<P> +The German, doubtless thinking he had stumbled upon a single stray +American scout, whirled his own rifle aloft, to dash out the brains of +his luckless foe. But before the upflung butt could descend,—before +the rookie could rise or dodge,—the point added his quota to the rude +breaking of the night's silence. He screamed in panic terror, dropped +his brandished gun and reeled backward, clawing at his own throat. +</P> + +<P> +For out of the eerie darkness, something had launched itself at +him—something silent and terrible, that had flown to the Missourian's +aid. Down with a crash went the German, on his back. He rolled against +the Missourian, who promptly sought to grapple with him. +</P> + +<P> +But even as he clawed for the German, the rookie's nerves wrung from +him a second yell—this time less of rage than of horror. +</P> + +<P> +"Sufferin' cats!" he bellowed. "Why didn't anybody ever tell me Germans +was covered with fur instead of clothes?" +</P> + +<P> +The boche platoon was no longer striding along in hike-formation. It +was broken up into masses of wildly running men, all of them bearing +down upon the place whence issued this ungodly racket and turmoil. +Stumbling, reeling, blindly falling and rising again, they came on. +</P> + +<P> +Some one among them loosed a rifle-shot in the general direction of the +yelling. A second and a third German rifleman followed the example of +the first. From the distant American trenches, one or two snipers began +to pepper away toward the enemy lines, though the fog was too thick for +them, to see the German rifle-flashes. +</P> + +<P> +The boches farthest to the left, in the blind rush, fouled with the +wires. German snipers, from behind the Hun parapets, opened fire. A +minute earlier the night had been still as the grave. Now it fairly +vibrated with clangor. All because one rookie's nerves had been less +staunch than his courage, and because that same rookie had not only had +his hand stepped on in the dark, but had encountered something swirling +and hairy when he grabbed for the soldier who had stepped on him! +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The American lieutenant, at the onset of the clamor, sprang to his +feet, whipping out his pistol; his dry lips parted in a command to +charge—a command which, naturally, would have reduced his eleven men +and himself to twelve corpses or to an equal number of mishandled +prisoners within the next few seconds. But a big hand was clapped +unceremoniously across the young officer's mouth, silencing the +half-spoken suicidal order. +</P> + +<P> +Sergeant Mahan's career in the regular army had given him an almost +uncanny power of sizing up his fellowmen. And he had long ago decided +that this was the sort of thing his untried lieutenant would be likely +to do, in just such an emergency. Wherefore his flagrant breach of +discipline in shoving his palm across the mouth of his superior officer. +</P> + +<P> +And as he was committing this breach of discipline, he heard the +Missourian's strangled gasp of: +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't anybody ever tell me Germans was covered with fur?" +</P> + +<P> +In a flash Mahan understood. Wheeling, he stooped low and flung out +both arms in a wide-sweeping circle. Luckily his right hand's +fingertips, as they completed the circle, touched something fast-moving +and furry. +</P> + +<P> +"Bruce!" he whispered fiercely, tightening his precarious grip on the +wisp of fur his fingers had touched. "Bruce! Stand still, boy! It's YOU +who's got to get us clear of this! Nobody else, short of the good Lord, +can do it!" +</P> + +<P> +Bruce had had a pleasantly lazy day with his friends in the first-line +trenches. There had been much good food and more petting. And at last, +comfortably tired of it all, he had gone to sleep. He had awakened in a +most friendly mood, and a little hungry. Wherefore he had sallied forth +in search of human companionship. He found plenty of soldiers who were +more than willing to talk to him and make much of him. But, a little +farther ahead, he saw his good friend, Sergeant Mahan, and others of +his acquaintances, starting over the parapet on what promised to be a +jolly evening stroll. +</P> + +<P> +All dogs find it hard to resist the mysterious lure of a walk in human +companionship. True, the night was not an ideal one for a ramble, and +the fog had a way of congealing wetly on Bruce's shaggy coat. Still, a +damp coat was not enough of a discomfort to offset the joy of a stroll +with his friends. So Bruce had followed the twelve men quietly into No +Man's Land, falling decorously into step behind Mahan. +</P> + +<P> +It had not been much of a walk, for speed or for fun. For the humans +went ridiculously slowly, and had an eccentric way of bunching +together, every now and again, and then of stringing out into a +shambling line. Still, it was a walk, and therefore better than loafing +behind in the trenches. And Bruce had kept his noiseless place at the +Sergeant's heels. +</P> + +<P> +Then—long before Mahan heard the approaching tramp of feet—Bruce +caught not only the sound but the scent of the German platoon. The +scent at once told him that the strangers were not of his own army. A +German soldier and an American soldier—because of their difference in +diet as well as for certain other and more cogent reasons—have by no +means the same odor, to a collie's trained scent, nor to that of other +breeds of war-dogs. Official records of dog-sentinels prove that. +</P> + +<P> +Aliens were nearing Bruce's friends. And the dog's ruff began to stand +up. But Mahan and the rest seemed in no way concerned in spirit +thereby—though, to the dog's understanding, they must surely be aware +of the approach. So Bruce gave no further sign of displeasure. He was +out for a walk, as a guest. He was not on sentry-duty. +</P> + +<P> +But when the nearest German was almost upon them, and all twelve +Americans dropped to the ground, the collie became interested once +more. A German stepped on the hand of one of his newest friends. And +the friend yelled in pain. Whereat the German made as if to strike the +stepped-on man. +</P> + +<P> +This was quite enough for loyal Bruce. Without so much as a growl of +warning, he jumped at the offender. +</P> + +<P> +Dog and man tumbled earthward together. Then after an instant of flurry +and noise, Bruce felt Mahan's fingers on his shoulder and heard the +stark appeal of Mahan's whispered voice. Instantly the dog was a +professional soldier once more—alertly obedient and resourceful. +</P> + +<P> +"Catch hold my left arm, Lieutenant!" Mahan was exhorting. "Close up, +there, boys—every man's hand grabbing tight to the shoulder of the man +on his left! Pass the word. And you, Missouri, hang onto the +Lieutenant! Quick, there! And tread soft and tread fast, and don't let +go, whatever happens! Not a sound out of any one! I'm leading the way. +And Bruce is going to lead me." +</P> + +<P> +There was a scurrying scramble as the men groped for one another. Mahan +tightened his hold on Bruce's mane. +</P> + +<P> +"Bruce!" he said, very low, but with a strength of appeal that was not +lost on the listening dog. "Bruce! Camp! Back to CAMP! And keep QUIET! +Back to camp, boy! CAMP!" +</P> + +<P> +He had no need to repeat his command so often and so strenuously. Bruce +was a trained courier. The one word "Camp!" was quite enough to tell +him what he was to do. +</P> + +<P> +Turning, he faced the American lines and tried to break into a gallop. +His scent and his knowledge of direction were all the guides he needed. +A dog always relies on his nose first and his eyes last. The fog was no +obstacle at all to the collie. He understood the Sergeant's order, and +he set out at once to obey it. +</P> + +<P> +But at the very first step, he was checked. Mahan did not release that +feverishly tight hold on his mane, but merely shifted to his collar. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce glanced back, impatient at the delay. But Mahan did not let go. +Instead he said once more: +</P> + +<P> +"CAMP, boy!" +</P> + +<P> +And Bruce understood he was expected to make his way to camp, with +Mahan hanging on to his collar. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce did not enjoy this mode of locomotion. It was inconvenient, and +there seemed no sense in it; but there were many things about this +strenuous war-trade that Bruce neither enjoyed nor comprehended, yet +which he performed at command. +</P> + +<P> +So again he turned campward, Mahan at his collar and an annoyingly +hindering tail of men stumbling silently on behind them. All around +were the Germans—butting drunkenly through the blanket-dense fog, +swinging their rifles like flails, shouting confused orders, +occasionally firing. Now and then two or more of them would collide and +would wrestle in blind fury, thinking they had encountered an American. +</P> + +<P> +Impeded by their own sightlessly swarming numbers, as much as by the +impenetrable darkness, they sought the foe. And but for Bruce they must +quickly have found what they sought. Even in compact form, the +Americans could not have had the sheer luck to dodge every scattered +contingent of Huns which starred the German end of No Man's Land—most +of them between the fugitives and the American lines. +</P> + +<P> +But Bruce was on dispatch duty. It was his work to obey commands and to +get back to camp at once. It was bad enough to be handicapped by +Mahan's grasp on his collar. He was not minded to suffer further delay +by running into any of the clumps of gesticulating and cabbage-reeking +Germans between him and his goal. So he steered clear of such groups, +making several wide detours in order to do so. Once or twice he stopped +short to let some of the Germans grope past him, not six feet away. +Again he veered sharply to the left—increasing his pace and forcing +Mahan and the rest to increase theirs—to avoid a squad of thirty men +who were quartering the field in close formation, and who all but +jostled the dog as they strode sightlessly by. An occasional rifle-shot +spat forth its challenge. From both trench-lines men were firing at a +venture. A few of the bullets sang nastily close to the twelve huddled +men and their canine leader. Once a German, not three yards away, +screamed aloud and fell sprawling and kicking, as one such chance +bullet found him. Above and behind, sounded the plop of star-shells +sent up by the enemy in futile hope of penetrating the viscid fog. And +everywhere was heard the shuffle and stumbling of innumerable boots. +</P> + +<P> +At last the noise of feet began to die away, and the uneven groping +tread of the twelve Americans to sound more distinctly for the +lessening of the surrounding turmoil. And in another few seconds Bruce +came to a halt—not to an abrupt stop, as when he had allowed an enemy +squad to pass in front of him, but a leisurely checking of speed, to +denote that he could go no farther with the load he was helping to haul. +</P> + +<P> +Mahan put out his free hand. It encountered the American wires. Bruce +had stopped at the spot where the party had cut a narrow path through +the entanglement on the outward journey. Alone, the dog could easily +have passed through the gap, but he could not be certain of pulling +Mahan with him. Wherefore the halt. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +The last of the twelve men scrambled down to safety, in the American +first-line trench, Bruce among them. The lieutenant went straight to +his commanding officer, to make his report. Sergeant Mahan went +straight to his company cook, whom he woke from a snoreful sleep. +Presently Mahan ran back to where the soldiers were gathered admiringly +around Bruce. +</P> + +<P> +The Sergeant carried a chunk of fried beef, for which he had just given +the cook his entire remaining stock of cigarettes. +</P> + +<P> +"Here you are, Bruce!" he exclaimed. "The best in the shop is none too +good for the dog that got us safe out of that filthy mess. Eat hearty!" +</P> + +<P> +Bruce did not so much as sniff at the (more or less) tempting bit of +meat. Coldly he looked up at Mahan. Then, with sensitive ears laid flat +against his silken head, in token of strong contempt, he turned his +back on the Sergeant and walked away. +</P> + +<P> +Which was Bruce's method of showing what he thought of a human fool who +would give him a command and who would then hold so tightly to him that +the dog could hardly carry out the order. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V. The Double Cross +</H3> + +<P> +In the background lay a landscape that had once been beautiful. In the +middle distance rotted a village that had once been alive. In the +foreground stood an edifice that had once been a church. The +once-beautiful landscape had the look of a gigantic pockmarked face, so +scored was it by shell-scar and crater. Its vegetation was swept away. +Its trees were shattered stumps. Its farmsteads were charred piles of +rubble. +</P> + +<P> +The village was unlike the general landscape, in that it had never been +beautiful. In spite of globe-trotters' sentimental gush, not all +villages of northern France were beautiful. Many were built for thrift +and for comfort and for expediency; not for architectural or natural +loveliness. +</P> + +<P> +But this village of Meran-en-Laye was not merely deprived of what +beauty it once might or might not have possessed. Except by courtesy it +was no longer a village at all. It was a double row of squalid ruins, +zig-zagging along the two sides of what was left of its main street. +Here and there a cottage or tiny shop or shed was still habitable. The +rest was debris. +</P> + +<P> +The church in the foreground was recognizable as such by the shape and +size of its ragged walls, and by a half-smashed image of the Virgin and +Child which slanted out at a perilous angle above its façade. +</P> + +<P> +Yet, miserable as the ruined hamlet seemed to the casual eye, it was at +present a vacation-resort—and a decidedly welcome one—to no less than +three thousand tired men. The wrecked church was an impromptu hospital +beneath whose shattered roof dozens of these men lay helpless on +makeshift cots. +</P> + +<P> +For the mixed American and French regiment known as the "Here-We-Comes" +was billeted at Meran-en-Laye during a respite from the rigors and +perils of the front-line trenches. +</P> + +<P> +The rest and the freedom from risks, supposed to be a part of the +"billeting" system, were not wholly the portion of the "Here-We Comes." +Meran—en—Laye was just then a somewhat important little speck on the +warmap. +</P> + +<P> +The Germans had been up to their favorite field sport of trying to +split in half two of the Allied armies, and to roll up each, +independently. The effort had been a failure; yet it had come so near +to success that many railway communications were cut off or deflected. +And Meran-en-Laye had for the moment gained new importance, by virtue +of a spur railway-line which ran through its outskirts and which made +junction with a new set of tracks the American engineers were +completing. Along this transverse of roads much ammunition and food and +many fighting men were daily rushed. +</P> + +<P> +The safety of the village had thus become of much significance. While +it was too far behind the lines to be in grave danger of enemy raids, +yet such danger existed to some extent. Wherefore the presence of the +"Here-We-Comes"—for the paradoxical double purpose of "resting up" and +of guarding the railway Function. +</P> + +<P> +Still, it was better than trench-work; and the "Here-We-Comes" enjoyed +it—for a day or so. Then trouble had set in. +</P> + +<P> +A group of soldiers were lounging on the stone seat in front of the +village estaminet. Being off duty, they were reveling in that popular +martial pastime known to the Tommy as "grousing" and to the Yankee +doughboy as "airing a grouch." +</P> + +<P> +Top-Sergeant Mahan, formerly of the regular army, was haranguing the +others. Some listened approvingly, others dissentingly and others not +at all. +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you," Mahan declared for the fourth time, "somebody's +double-crossing us again. There's a leak. And if they don't find out +where it is, a whole lot of good men and a million dollars' worth of +supplies are liable to spill out through that same leak. It—" +</P> + +<P> +"But," argued his crony, old Sergeant Vivier, in his hard-learned +English, "but it may all be of a chance, mon vieux. It may, not be the +doubled cross,—whatever a doubled cross means,—but the mere chance. +Such things often—" +</P> + +<P> +"Chance, my grandmother's wall-eyed cat!" snorted Mahan. "Maybe it +might have been chance—when this place hadn't been bombed for a +month—for a whole flight of boche artillery and airship grenades to +cut loose against it the day General Pershing happened to stop here for +an hour on his way to Chateau-Thierry. Maybe that was chance—though I +know blamed well it wasn't. Maybe it was chance that the place wasn't +bombed again till two days ago, when that troop-train had to spend such +a lot of time getting shunted at the junction. Maybe it was chance that +the church, over across the street, hadn't been touched since the last +drive, till our regiment's wounded were put in it—and that it's been +hit three times since then. Maybe any one of those things—and of a +dozen others was chance. But it's a cinch that ALL of them weren't +chance. Chance doesn't work that way. I—" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," doubtfully assented old Vivier, "perhaps. But I little like +to believe it. For it means a spy. And a spy in one's midst is like to +a snake in one's blankets. It is a not pleasing comrade. And it stands +in sore need of killing." +</P> + +<P> +"There's spies everywhere," averred Mahan. "That's been proved often +enough. So why not here? But I wish to the Lord I could lay hands on +him! If this was one of the little sheltered villages, in a valley, his +work would be harder. And the boche airships and the long-rangers +wouldn't find us such a simple target. But up here on this ridge, all a +spy has to do is to flash a signal, any night, that a boche airman can +pick up or that can even be seen with good glasses from some high point +where it can be relayed to the German lines. The guy who laid out this +burg was sure thoughtless. He might have known there'd be a war some +day. He might even have strained his mind and guessed that we'd be +stuck here. Gee!" +</P> + +<P> +He broke off with a grunt of disgust; nor did he so much as listen to +another of the group who sought to lure him into an opinion as to +whether the spy might be an inhabitant of the village or a +camp-follower. +</P> + +<P> +Sucking at his pipe; the Sergeant glowered moodily down the ruined +street. The village drowsed under the hot midday. Here and there a +soldier lounged along aimlessly or tried out his exercise-book French +on some puzzled, native. Now and then an officer passed in or out of +the half-unroofed mairie which served as regimental headquarters. +</P> + +<P> +Beyond, in the handkerchief-sized village square, a platoon was +drilling. A thin French housewife was hanging sheets on a line behind a +shell-twisted hovel. A Red Cross nurse came out of the hospital-church +across the street from the estaminet and seated herself on the stone +steps with a basketful of sewing. +</P> + +<P> +Mahan's half-shut eyes rested critically on the drilling +platoon—amusedly on the woman who was so carefully hanging the ragged +sheets,—and then approvingly upon the Red Cross nurse on the church +steps across the way. +</P> + +<P> +Mahan, like most other soldiers, honored and revered the Red Cross for +its work of mercy in the army. And the sight of one of the several +local nurses of the Order won from him a glance of real approbation. +</P> + +<P> +But presently into his weather-beaten face came an expression of glad +welcome. Out of the mairie gate and into the sleepy warmth of the +street lounged a huge dark-brown-and-white collie. The don stretched +himself lazily, fore and aft, in true collie style, then stood gazing +about him as if in search of something of interest to occupy his bored +attention. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello!" observed Mahan, breaking in on a homily of Vivier's. "There's +Bruce!" +</P> + +<P> +Vivier's leathery face brightened at sound of the collie's name. He +looked eagerly in the direction of Mahan's pointing finger. +</P> + +<P> +"Ce brave!" exclaimed the Frenchman. "I did not know even that he was +in the village. It must be he is but new-arriven. Otherwise he would, +of an assuredly, have hunted up his old friends. Ohe, Bruce!" he called +invitingly. +</P> + +<P> +"The big dog must have gotten here just a few minutes ago," said +Sergeant Mahan. "He was coming out of headquarters when I saw him. That +must mean he's just struck the town, and with a message for the K.O. He +always goes like greased lightning when he's on dispatch duty, till he +has delivered his message. Then, if he's to be allowed to hang around a +while before he's sent back, he loafs, lazy-like; the way you see him +now. If all the courier-dogs were like him, every human courier would +be out of a job." +</P> + +<P> +At Vivier's hail the great collie had pricked his ears and glanced +inquiringly up and down the street. Catching sight of the group seated +in front of the estaminet, he began to wag his plumy tail and set off +toward them at a trot. +</P> + +<P> +Ten minutes earlier, Bruce had cantered into Meran-en-Laye from the +opposite end of the street, bearing in his collar a dispatch from the +corps commander to the colonel of the "Here-We-Comes." The colonel, at +the mairie, had read the dispatch and had patted its bearer; then had +bidden the dog lie down and rest, if he chose, after his long run. +</P> + +<P> +Instead, Bruce had preferred to stroll out in search of friends. +</P> + +<P> +Top-Sergeant Mahan, by the way, would have felt highly flattered had he +chanced to get a glimpse of the dispatch Bruce had brought to the +colonel. For it bore out Mahan's own theory regarding the presence of +spies at or near the village, and it bade the "Here-We-Come" colonel +use every means for tracing them. +</P> + +<P> +It added the information that three troop-trains with nine engines were +to pass through the village that night on their way to the trenches, +and that the trains were due at the junction at nine o'clock or shortly +thereafter. The mairie was on the other side of the street from the +estaminet. Incidentally, it was on the shady side of the street—for +which reason Bruce,—being wise, and the day being hot,—remained on +that side, until he should come opposite the bench where his friends +awaited him. +</P> + +<P> +His course, thus, brought him directly past the church. +</P> + +<P> +As he trotted by the steps, the Red Cross nurse, who sat sewing there, +chirped timidly at him. Bruce paused in his leisurely progress to see +who had accosted him whether an old acquaintance, to be greeted as +such, or merely a pleasantly inclined stranger. +</P> + +<P> +His soft brown eyes rested first in idle inquiry upon the angular and +white-robed figure on the steps. Then, on the instant, the friendly +inquiring look left his eyes and their softness went with it—leaving +the dog's gaze cold and frankly hostile. +</P> + +<P> +One corner of Bruce's lips slowly lifted, revealing a tiny view of the +terrible white fangs behind them. His gayly erect head was lowered, and +in the depths of his furry throat a growl was born. When a dog barks +and holds his head up, there is little enough to fear from him. But +when he lowers his head and growl—then look out. +</P> + +<P> +Mahan knew dogs. In stark amazement he now noted Bruce's strange +attitude toward the nurse. Never before had he seen the dog show active +hostility toward a stranger—least of all toward a stranger who had in +no way molested him. It was incredible that the wontedly dignified and +sweet-tempered collie had thus returned a greeting. Especially from a +woman! +</P> + +<P> +Mahan had often seen Red Cross nurses stop to caress Bruce. He had been +amused at the dog's almost protective cordiality toward all women, +whether the French peasants or the wearers of the brassard of mercy. +</P> + +<P> +Toward men—except those he had learned to look on as friends—the +collie always comported himself with a courteous aloofness But he had +seemed to regard every woman as something to be humored and guarded and +to be treated with the same cordial friendliness that he bestowed on +their children—which is the way of the best type of collie. Yet Bruce +had actually snarled at this woman who had chirped to him from the +steps of the church! And he showed every sign of following up the +challenge by still more drastic measures. +</P> + +<P> +"Bruce!" called Mahan sharply. "BRUCE! Shame! Come over here! Come, +NOW!" +</P> + +<P> +At the Sergeant's vehement summons Bruce turned reluctantly away from +the foot of the church steps and came across the street toward the +estaminet. He came slowly. Midway he halted and looked back over his +shoulder at the nurse, his fangs glinting once more in a snarl. At a +second and more emphatic call from Mahan the dog continued his progress. +</P> + +<P> +The nurse had started back in alarm at the collie's angry +demonstration. Now, gathering up her work, she retreated into the +church. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry, Miss!" Mahan shouted after her. "I never saw him that way, +before, when a lady spoke to him. If it was any dog but old Bruce, I'd +give him a whaling for acting like that to you. I'm dead-sure he didn't +mean any harm." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I was going in, anyway," replied the nurse, from the doorway. "It +is of no consequence." +</P> + +<P> +She spoke nervously, her rich contralto voice shaken by the dog's +fierce show of enmity. Then she vanished into the church; and Mahan and +Vivier took turns in lecturing Bruce on his shameful dearth of courtesy. +</P> + +<P> +The big dog paid no heed at all to his friends' discourse. He was +staring sullenly at the doorway through which the nurse had gone. +</P> + +<P> +"That's one swell way for a decently bred dog to treat a woman!" Mahan +was telling him. "Least of all, a Red Cross nurse! I'm clean ashamed of +you!" +</P> + +<P> +Bruce did not listen. In his heart he was still angry—and very much +perplexed as well. For he knew what these stupid humans did not seem to +know. +</P> + +<P> +HE KNEW THE RED CROSS NURSE WAS NO WOMAN AT ALL, BUT A MAN. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce knew, too, that the nurse did not belong to his loved friends of +the Red Cross. For his uncanny power of scent told him the garments +worn by the impostor belonged to some one else. To mere humans, a small +and slender man, who can act, and who dons woman's garb, is a woman. To +any dog, such a man is no more like a woman than a horse with a +lambskin saddle-pad is a lamb. He is merely a man who is differently +dressed from other men—even as this man who had chirped to Bruce, from +the church steps, was no less a man for the costume in which he had +swathed his body. Any dog, at a glance and at a sniff, would have known +that. +</P> + +<P> +Women, for one thing, do not usually smoke dozens of rank cigars daily +for years, until their flesh is permeated with the smell of tobacco. A +human could not have detected such a smell—such a MAN-smell,—on the +person who had chirped to Bruce. Any dog, twenty feet away, would have +noticed it, and would have tabulated the white-clad masquerader as a +man. Nor do a woman's hair and skin carry the faint but unmistakable +odor of barracks and of tent-life and of martial equipment, as did this +man's. The masquerader was evidently not only a man but a soldier. +</P> + +<P> +Dogs,—high-strung dogs,—do not like to have tricks played on them; +least of all by strangers. Bruce seemed to take the nurse-disguise as a +personal affront to himself. Then, too, the man was not of his own +army. On the contrary, the scent proclaimed him one of the horde whom +Bruce's friends so manifestly hated—one of the breed that had more +than once fired on the dog. +</P> + +<P> +Diet and equipment and other causes give a German soldier a markedly +different scent, to dogs' miraculously keen nostrils,—and to those of +certain humans,—from the French or British or American troops. War +records prove this. Once having learned the scent, and having learned +to detest it, Bruce was not to be deceived. +</P> + +<P> +For all these reasons he had snarled loathingly at the man in white. +For these same reasons he could not readily forget the incident, but +continued every now and then to glance curiously across toward the +church. +</P> + +<P> +Presently,—not relishing the rebukes of the friends who had heretofore +pestered him by overmuch petting,—the collie arose quietly from his +couch of trampled earth at the foot of the stone bench and strolled +back across the street. Most of the men were too busy, talking, to note +Bruce's departure. But Sergeant Mahan caught sight of him just as the +dog was mounting the last of the steps leading into the church. +</P> + +<P> +As a rule, when Bruce went investigating, he walked carelessly and with +his tail slightly a-wag. Now his tail was stiff as an icicle, and he +moved warily, on the tips of his toes. His tawny-maned neck was low. +Mahan, understanding dogs, did not like the collie's demeanor. +Remembering that the nurse had entered the church a few minutes +earlier, the Sergeant got to his feet and hastily followed Bruce. +</P> + +<P> +The dog, meanwhile, had passed through the crazily splintered doorway +and had paused on the threshold of the improvised hospital, as the reek +of iodoform and of carbolic smote upon his sensitive nostrils. In front +of him was the stone-paved vestibule. Beyond was the interior of the +shattered church, lined now with double rows of cots. +</P> + +<P> +Seated on a camp-chair in the shadowy vestibule was the pseudo Red +Cross nurse. At sight of the collie the nurse got up in some haste. +Bruce, still walking stiff-legged, drew closer. +</P> + +<P> +Out from under the white skirt flashed a capable and solidly-shod foot. +In a swinging kick, the foot let drive at the oncoming dog. Before +Bruce could dodge or could so much as guess what was coming,—the kick +smote him with agonizing force, square on the shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +To a spirited collie, a kick carries more than the mere pain of its +inflicting. It is a grossly unforgivable affront as well—as many a +tramp and thief have learned, at high cost. +</P> + +<P> +By the time the kick had fairly landed, Bruce had recovered from his +instant of incredulous surprise; and with lightning swiftness he hurled +himself at his assailant. +</P> + +<P> +No bark or growl heralded the murderous throatlunge. It was all the +more terrible for the noiselessness wherewith it was delivered. The +masquerading man saw it coming, just too late to guard against it. He +lurched backward, belatedly throwing both hands up to defend his +throat. It was the involuntary backward step which saved his jugular. +For his heel caught in the hem of his white skirt. And wholly off +balance, he pitched headlong to the floor. +</P> + +<P> +This jerky shift of position, on the part of the foe, spoiled Bruce's +aim. His fearful jaws snapped together harmlessly in empty air at a +spot where, a fraction of a second earlier, the other's throat had +been. Down crashed the disguised man. And atop of him the furious dog +hurled himself, seeking a second time the throatgrip he had so narrowly +missed. +</P> + +<P> +At this point on the program Sergeant Mahan arrived just in time to +bury both hands in the mass of Bruce's furry ruff and to drag the +snarlingly rabid dog back from his prey. +</P> + +<P> +The place was in an uproar. Nurses and doctors came rushing out into +the vestibule; sick and wounded men sat up on their cots and eagerly +craned their necks to catch sight of the scrimmage. Soldiers ran in +from the street. +</P> + +<P> +Strong as he was, Mahan had both hands full in holding the frantic +Bruce back from his enemy. Under the insult of the kick from this +masquerader, whom he had already recognized as a foe, the collie had +temporarily lost every vestige of his stately dignity. He was for the +moment merely a wild beast, seeking revenge for a brutal injury. He +writhed and fought in Mahan's grasp. Never once did he seek to attack +the struggling man who held him. But he strained every giant sinew to +get at the foe who had kicked him. +</P> + +<P> +The dog's opponent scrambled to his feet, helped by a dozen willing +hands and accosted by as many solicitous voices. The victim's face was +bone-gray with terror. His lips twitched convulsively. Yet, as befitted +a person in his position, he had a splendid set of nerves. And almost +at once he recovered partial control over himself. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I don't know how it happened," he faltered, his rich contralto +voice shaky with the ground-swells of his recent shock. "It began when +I was sitting on the steps, sewing. This dog came past. He growled at +me so threateningly that I came indoors. A minute later, while I was +sitting here sewing, he sprang at me and threw me down. I believe he +would—would have killed me," the narrator finished, with a very +genuine shudder, "if I had not been rescued when I was. Such +bloodthirsty brutes ought to be shot!" +</P> + +<P> +"He not only OUGHT to be," hotly agreed the chief surgeon, "but he is +GOING to be. Take him out into the street, one of you men, and put a +ball in his head." +</P> + +<P> +The surgeon turned to the panting nurse. +</P> + +<P> +"You're certain he didn't hurt you?" he asked. "I don't want a +newcomer, like yourself, to think this is the usual treatment our +nurses get. Lie down and rest. You look scared to death. And don't be +nervous about the cur attacking you again. He'll be dead inside of +three minutes." +</P> + +<P> +The nurse, with a mumbled word of thanks, scuttled off into the rear of +the church, where the tumbledown vestry had been fitted up as a +dormitory. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce had calmed down somewhat under Mahan's sharp reproof. But he now +struggled afresh to get at his vanished quarry. And again the Sergeant +had a tussle to hold him. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know what's got into the big fellow!" exclaimed Mahan to +Vivier as the old Frenchman joined the tumultuous group. "He's gone +clean daft. He'd of killed that poor woman, if I hadn't—" +</P> + +<P> +"Get him out of here!" ordered the surgeon. "And clear out, yourselves, +all of you! This rumpus has probably set a lot of my patients' +temperatures to rocketing. Take the cur out and shoot him!" +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me, sir," spoke up Mahan, as Vivier stared aghast at the man +who commanded Bruce's destruction, "but he's no cur. He's a +courier-collie, officially in the service of the United States +Government. And he's the best courier-dog in France to-day. This is—" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care what he is!" raged the surgeon. "He—" +</P> + +<P> +"This is Bruce," continued Mahan, "the dog that saved the +'Here-We-Comes' at Rache, and that steered a detail of us to safety one +night in the fog, in the Chateau-Thierry sector. If you order any man +of the 'Here-We-Comes' to shoot Bruce, you're liable to have a mutiny +on your hands—officer or no officer. But if you wish, sir, I can +transmit your order to the K.O. If he endorses it—" +</P> + +<P> +But the surgeon sought, at that moment, to save the remnants of his +dignity and of a bad situation by stalking loftily back into the +hospital, and leaving Mahan in the middle of his speech. +</P> + +<P> +"Or, sir," the Sergeant grinningly called after him, "you might write +to the General Commanding, and tell him you want Bruce shot. The Big +Dog always sleeps in the general's own room, when he's off-duty, at +Division Headquarters. Maybe the general will O.K. his death-sentence, +if you ask him to. He—" +</P> + +<P> +Somewhat quickening his stately stride, the surgeon passed out of +earshot. At the officers' mess of the "Here-We-Comes," he had often +heard Bruce's praises sung. He had never chanced to see the dog until +now. But, beneath his armor of dignity, he quaked to think what the +results to himself must have been, had he obeyed his first impulse of +drawing his pistol and shooting the adored and pricelessly useful +collie. +</P> + +<P> +Mahan,—stolidly rejoicing in his victory over the top-lofty potentate +whom he disliked,—led the way out of the crowded vestibule into the +street. Bruce followed demurely at his heels and Vivier bombarded +everybody in sight for information as to what the whole fracas was +about. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce was himself again. Now that the detested man in woman's clothes +had gone away, there was no sense in continuing to struggle or to waste +energy in a show of fury. Nevertheless, in his big heart burned +deathless hatred toward the German who had kicked him. And, like an +elephant, a collie never forgets. +</P> + +<P> +"But," Vivier was demanding of everybody, "but why should the gentle +Bruce have attacked a good nurse? It is not what you call 'make-sense.' +C'est un gentilhomme, ce vieux! He would not attack a woman less still +a sister of the Red Cross. He—" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course he wouldn't," glumly assented the downhearted Mahan. "But he +DID. That's the answer. I saw him do it. He knocked her down and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Which nurse was she?" asked a soldier who had come up after the +trouble was over. +</P> + +<P> +"A new one here. I don't know her name. She came last week. I saw her +when she got here. I was on duty at the K.O.'s office when she +reported. She had a letter from some one on the surgeon-general's +staff. But why Bruce should have gone for her to-day—or for any +woman—is more than I can see. She was scared half to death. It's lucky +she heard the surgeon order him shot. She'll suppose he's dead, by now. +And that'll cure her scare. We must try to keep Bruce away from this +end of the street till he goes back to headquarters to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +As a result Bruce was coaxed to Mahan's company-shed and by dint of +food-gifts and petting was induced to spend most of the day there. +</P> + +<P> +At sunset Bruce tired of his dull surroundings. Mahan had gone on duty; +so had Vivier; so had others of his friends. The dog was bored and +lonely. Also he had eaten much. And a walk is good, not only for +loneliness, but for settling an overfull stomach. Bruce decided to go +for a walk. +</P> + +<P> +Through the irregular street of the village he picked his way, and on +toward the open country beyond. A sentry or two snapped fingers of +greeting to him as he strolled past them. The folk of the village eyed +his bulk and graceful dignity with something like awe. +</P> + +<P> +Beyond the hamlet the ridge of hilltop ran on for perhaps a +quarter-mile before dipping into the plain below. At one end of this +little plateau a company of infantry was drilling. Bruce recognized +Mahan among the marching lines, but he saw his friend was on duty and +refrained from going up to him. +</P> + +<P> +Above, the sunset sky was cloudless. Like tiny specks, miles to +eastward, a few enemy airships circled above the heap of clustered +hills which marked the nearest German position. The torn-up plain, +between, seemed barren of life. So, at first, did the farther end of +the jutting ridge on which the village was perched. But presently +Bruce's idly wandering eye was caught by a flutter of white among some +boulders that clumped together on the ridge's brow farthest from the +village. +</P> + +<P> +Some one—a woman, from the dress—was apparently picking her way +through the boulders. As Bruce moved forward, a big rock shut her off +from his view and from the view of the hamlet and of the maneuvering +infantry company a furlong away. +</P> + +<P> +Just then a puff of breeze blew from eastward toward the collie; and it +bore to him a faint scent that set his ruff a-bristle and his soft +brown eyes ablaze. To a dog, a scent once smelled is as recognizable +again as is the sight of a once-seen face to a human. Bruce set off at +a hand-gallop toward the clump of boulders. +</P> + +<P> +The Red Cross nurse, whom Bruce had so nearly killed, was off duty +until the night-shift should go on at the hospital. The nurse had taken +advantage of this brief surcease from toil, by going for a little walk +in the cool sunset air, and had carried along a bag of sewing. +</P> + +<P> +Up to three months ago this nurse had been known as Heinrich Stolz, and +had been a valued member of the Wilhelmstrasse's workingforce of secret +agents. Then, acting under orders, Herr Heinrich Stolz had vanished +from his accustomed haunts. Soon thereafter a Red Cross nurse—Felicia +Stuart by name had reported for duty at Paris, having been transferred +thither from Italy, and bearing indubitable credentials to that effect. +</P> + +<P> +From carefully picked-up information Stolz had just learned of the +expected arrival of the three troop-trains at the junction at nine that +evening. The tidings had interested him keenly, and he knew of other +people to whom they would be far more interesting. +</P> + +<P> +Seating himself under the lee of the easternmost rock, Stolz primly +opened his sewing-bag and drew forth various torn garments. The +garments were for the most part white, but one or two were of gaudy +colors. +</P> + +<P> +By way of precaution, in case of discovery, the spy threaded a needle. +Thus, if any one should chance to see him shake out a garment, +preparatory to laying it on his knee and mending it, there could be no +reasonable cause for suspicion. Herr Stolz was nothing if not efficient. +</P> + +<P> +He held up the needle and poked the thread at its eye in truly feminine +fashion. +</P> + +<P> +He had just finished this feat of dexterity when he chanced to look up +from his work at sound of fast-pattering feet. Not thirty feet away, +charging head on at him, rushed the great brown-and-white collie he +supposed had been shot. +</P> + +<P> +With a jump of abject terror, Herr Stolz sprang up. Mingled with his +normal fear of the dog was a tinge of superstitious dread. He had been +so certain the beast was shot! The doctor had given the order for his +killing. The doctor was a commissioned officer. Stolz's German mind +could not grasp the possibility of a soldier disobeying an officer's +imperative command. +</P> + +<P> +The collie was upon him by the time the spy gained his feet. Stolz +reached frantically under his dress-folds for the deadly little pistol +that he always kept there. But he was still a novice in the mysteries +of feminine apparel. And, before his fingers could close on the weapon, +Bruce's bared fangs were gleaming at his throat. +</P> + +<P> +Stolz ceased to search for the weapon. And, as before, he threw up both +frantic hands to ward off the furious jaws. +</P> + +<P> +He was barely in time. Bruce's white teeth drove deep into the spy's +forearm, and Bruce's eighty pounds of furry muscular bulk smote Stolz +full in the chest. Down went the spy, under the terrific impact, +sprawling wildly on his back, and fighting with both bleeding hands to +push back the dog. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce, collie-fashion, did not stick to one grip, but bit and slashed a +dozen times in three seconds, tearing and rending his way toward the +throat-hold he craved; driving through flesh of hands and of forearms +toward his goal. +</P> + +<P> +Like many another German, Stolz was far more adept at causing pain than +at enduring it. Also, from birth, he had had an unconquerable fear of +dogs. His nerves, too, were not yet recovered from Bruce's attack +earlier in the day. All this, and the spectral suddenness of the +onslaught, robbed him of every atom of his usual stony self-control. +</P> + +<P> +Sergeant Mahan was a good soldier. Yet a minute earlier he had almost +ruined his reputation as such. He had been hard put to it to refrain +from leaving the ranks of his drilling company, a furlong from the +rocks, and running at record speed toward the boulders. For he had seen +the supposed nurse pass that way. And almost directly afterward he had +seen Bruce follow her thither. And he could guess what would happen. +</P> + +<P> +Luckily for the sake of discipline, the order of "Break ranks!" was +given before Mahan could disgrace himself by such unmartial behavior. +And, on the instant, the Sergeant broke into a run in the direction of +the rocks. +</P> + +<P> +Wondering at his eccentric action, several of the soldiers followed. +The company captain, at sight of a knot of his men dashing at breakneck +speed toward the boulders, started at a more leisurely pace in the same +direction. +</P> + +<P> +Mahan had reached the edge of the rocks when his ears were greeted by a +yell of mortal fear. The captain and the rest, catching the sound, went +faster. Screech after screech rang from the rocky enclosure. +</P> + +<P> +Mahan rounded the big boulder at the crest of the ridge and flung +himself upon the two combatants, as they thrashed about in a tumultuous +dual mass on the ground. And just then Bruce at last found his grip on +Stolz's throat. +</P> + +<P> +A stoical German signal-corps officer, on a hilltop some miles to +eastward, laid aside his field-glass and calmly remarked to a man at +his side +</P> + +<P> +"We have lost a good spy!" +</P> + +<P> +Such was the sole epitaph and eulogy of Herr Heinrich Stolz, from his +army. +</P> + +<P> +Meantime, Sergeant Mahan was prying loose the collie's ferocious jaws +from their prey and was tugging with all his might to drag the dog off +the shrieking spy. The throat-hold, he noted, was a bare inch from the +jugular. +</P> + +<P> +The rest of the soldiers, rushing up pell-mell, helped him pull the +infuriated Bruce from his victim. The spectacle of their admired +dog-hero, so murderously mauling a woman of the Red Cross, dazed them +with horror. +</P> + +<P> +"Take him AWAY!" bellowed Stolz, delirious with pain and fear. "He's +KILLED me—der gottverdammte Teufelhund!" +</P> + +<P> +And now the crazed victim's unconscious use of German was not needed to +tell every one within hearing just who and what he was. For the +quavering tones were no longer a rich contralto. They were a throaty +baritone. And the accent was Teutonic. +</P> + +<P> +"Bruce!" observed Top-Sergeant Mahan next morning, "I've always said a +man who kicks a dog is more of a cur than the dog is. But you'll never +know how near I came to kicking you yesterday, when I caught you +mangling that filthy spy. And Brucie, if I had kicked you, well—I'd be +praying at this minute that the good Lord would grow a third leg on me, +so that I could kick myself all the way from here to Berlin!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI. The Werewolf +</H3> + +<P> +When Bruce left the quiet peace of The Place for the hell of the +Western Front, it had been stipulated by the Mistress and the Master +that if ever he were disabled, he should be shipped back to The Place, +at their expense. +</P> + +<P> +It was a stipulation made rather to soothe the Mistress's sorrow at +parting from her loved pet than in any hope that it could be fulfilled; +for the average life of a courierdog on the battle-front was tragically +short. And his fate was more than ordinarily certain. If the boche +bullets and shrapnel happened to miss him, there were countless +diseases—bred of trench and of hardship and of abominable food—to +kill him. +</P> + +<P> +The Red Cross appeal raised countless millions of dollars and brought +rescue to innumerable human warriors. But in caring for humans, the +generosity of most givers reached its limit; and the Blue Cross—"for +the relief of dogs and horses injured in the service of the +Allies"—was forced to take what it could get. Yet many a man, and many +a body of men, owed life and safety to the heroism of some war-dog, a +dog which surely merited special care when its own certain hour of +agony struck. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce's warmest overseas friends were to be found in the ranks of the +mixed Franco-American regiment, nicknamed the "Here-We-Comes." Right +gallantly, in more than one tight place, had Bruce been of use to the +"Here-We-Comes." On his official visits to the regiment, he was always +received with a joyous welcome that would have turned any head less +steady than a thoroughbred collie's. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce enjoyed this treatment. He enjoyed, too, the food-dainties +wherewith the "Here-We-Comes" plied him. But to no man in the army +would he give the adoring personal loyalty he had left at The Place +with the Mistress and the Master. Those two were still his only gods. +And he missed them and his sweet life at The Place most bitterly. Yet +he was too good a soldier to mope. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +For months the "Here-We-Comes" had been quartered in a "quiet"—or only +occasionally tumultuous—sector, near Chateau-Thierry. Then the +comparative quiet all at once turned to pandemonium. +</P> + +<P> +A lanky and degenerate youth (who before the war had been unlovingly +known throughout Europe as the "White Rabbit" and who now was mentioned +in dispatches as the "Crown Prince") had succeeded in leading some +half-million fellow-Germans into a "pocket" that had lately been merely +a salient. +</P> + +<P> +From the three lower sides of the pocket, the Allies ecstatically flung +themselves upon their trapped foes in a laudable effort to crush the +half-million boches and their rabbit-faced princeling into surrender +before the latter could get out of the snare, and to the shelter of the +high ground and the reenforcements that lay behind it. The Germans +objected most strenuously to this crushing process. And the three +beleaguered edges of the pocket became a triple-section of hell. +</P> + +<P> +It was a period when no one's nerves were in any degree normal—least +of all the nerves of the eternally hammered Germans. Even the fiercely +advancing Franco-Americans, the "Here-We-Comes," had lost the grimly +humorous composure that had been theirs, and waxed sullen and ferocious +in their eagerness. +</P> + +<P> +Thus it was that Bruce missed his wontedly uproarious welcome as he +cantered, at sunset one July day, into a smashed farmstead where his +friends, the "Here-We-Comes," were bivouacked for the night. By +instinct, the big dog seemed to know where to find the temporary +regimental headquarters. +</P> + +<P> +He trotted past a sentry, into an unroofed cattle-shed where the +colonel was busily scribbling a detailed report of the work done by the +"Here-We-Comes" during that day's drive. +</P> + +<P> +Coming to a halt by the colonel's side, Bruce stood expectantly wagging +his plumy tail and waiting for the folded message from division +headquarters to be taken off his collar. +</P> + +<P> +Usually, on such visits, the colonel made much of the dog. To-day he +merely glanced up abstractedly from his writing, at sight of Bruce's +silken head at his side. He unfastened the message, read it, frowned +and went on with his report. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce continued to wag his tail and to look up wistfully for the wonted +petting and word of commendation. But the colonel had forgotten his +existence. So presently the collie wearied of waiting for a caress from +a man whose caresses, at best, he did not greatly value. He turned and +strolled out of the shed. His message delivered, he knew he was at +liberty to amuse himself as he might choose to, until such time as he +must carry back to his general a reply to the dispatch he had brought. +</P> + +<P> +From outside came the voices of tired and lounging soldiers. A +traveling kitchen had just been set up near by. From it arose a blend +of smells that were mighty tempting to a healthily hungry dog. Thither, +at a decorous but expectant pace, Bruce bent his steps. +</P> + +<P> +Top-Sergeant Mahan was gazing with solicitous interest upon the toil of +the cooks at the wheeled kitchen. Beside him, sharing his concern in +the supper preparations, was Mahan's closest crony, old Sergeant +Vivier. The wizened little Frenchman, as a boy, had been in the +surrender of Sedan. Nightly, ever since, he had besought the saints to +give him, some day, a tiny share in the avenging of that black disgrace. +</P> + +<P> +Mahan and Vivier were the warmest of Bruce's many admirers in the +"Here-We-Comes." Ordinarily a dual whoop of joy from them would have +greeted his advent. This afternoon they merely chirped abstractedly at +him, and Mahan patted him carelessly on the head before returning to +the inspection of the cooking food. +</P> + +<P> +Since an hour before dawn, both men had been in hot action. The command +for the "Here-We-Comes" to turn aside and bivouac for the night had +been a sharp disappointment to them, as well as to every unwounded man +in the regiment. +</P> + +<P> +When a gambler is in the middle of a winning streak, when an athlete +feels he has the race in his own hands, when a business man has all but +closed the deal that means fortune to him—at such crises it is +maddening to be halted at the very verge of triumph. But to soldiers +who, after months of reverses, at last have their hated foe on the run, +such a check does odd things to temper and to nerves. +</P> + +<P> +In such plight were the men of the "Here-We-Comes," on this late +afternoon. Mahan and Vivier were too seasoned and too sane to give way +to the bursts of temper and the swirls of blasphemy that swayed so many +of their comrades. Nevertheless they were glum and silent and had no +heart for jolly welcomings,—even to so dear a friend as Bruce. +</P> + +<P> +Experience told them that a square meal would work miracles in the way +of calming and bracing them. Hence, apart from stark hunger, their +interest in the cooking of supper. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce was too much a philosopher—and not devoted enough to his soldier +friends—to be hurt at the lack of warmth in the greeting. With the air +of an epicure, he sniffed at the contents of one of the kitchen's +bubbling kettles. Then he walked off and curled himself comfortably on +a pile of bedding, there to rest until supper should be ready. +</P> + +<P> +Several times, as he lay there, soldiers passed and repassed. One or +two of them snapped their fingers at the dog or even stooped, in +passing, to stroke his head. But on the faces of all of them was unrest +and a certain wolfish eagerness, which precluded playing with pets at +such a time. The hot zest of the man-hunt was upon them. It was gnawing +in the veins of the newest recruit, ever, as in the heart of the +usually self-contained colonel of the regiment. +</P> + +<P> +The colonel, in fact, had been so carried away by the joy of seeing his +men drive the hated graycoats before them that day that he had +overstepped the spirit of his own orders from the division commander. +</P> + +<P> +In brief, he had made no effort to "dress" his command, in the advance, +upon the regiments to either side of it. As a result, when the signal +to bivouac for the night was given, the "Here-We-Comes" were something +like a mile ahead of the regiment which should have been at their +immediate right, and nearly two miles in front of the brigade at their +left. +</P> + +<P> +In other words, the "Here-We-Comes" now occupied a salient of their +own, ahead of the rest of the FrancoAmerican line. It was in rebuke for +this bit of good progress and bad tactics that the division commander +had written to the colonel, in the dispatch which Bruce had brought. +</P> + +<P> +German airmen, sailing far above, and dodging as best they could the +charges of the Allied 'planes, had just noted that the "Here-We-Comes" +"salient" was really no salient at all. So far had it advanced that, +for the moment, it was out of touch with the rest of the division. It +was, indeed, in an excellent position to be cut off and demolished by a +dashing nightattack. And a report to this effect was delivered to a +fumingly distracted German major general, who yearned for a chance to +atone in some way for the day's shameful reverses. +</P> + +<P> +"If they hadn't halted us and made us call it a day, just as we were +getting into our stride," loudly grumbled one Yankee private to another +as the two clumped up to the kitchen, "we'd have been in +Fere-en-Tardenois by now. What lazy guy is running this drive, anyhow?" +</P> + +<P> +"The same lazy guy that will stick you into the hoosgow for +insubordination and leave you to do your bit there while the rest of us +stroll on to Berlin!" snapped Top-Sergeant Mahan, wheeling upon the +grumbler. "Till you learn how to obey orders without grouching, it +isn't up to you to knock wiser men. Shut up!" +</P> + +<P> +Though Mahan's tone of reproof was professionally harsh, his spirit was +not in his words. And the silenced private knew it. He knew, too, that +the top-sergeant was as savage over the early halt as were the rest of +the men. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce, as a rule, when he honored the "Here-We-Comes" with a visit, +spent the bulk of his time with Mahan and old Vivier. But to-day +neither of these friends was an inspiring companion. Nor were the rest +of Bruce's acquaintances disposed to friendliness. Wherefore, as soon +as supper was eaten, the dog returned to his heap of bedding, for the +hour or so of laziness which Nature teaches all her children to demand, +after a full meal,—and which the so-called "dumb" animals alone are +intelligent enough to take. +</P> + +<P> +Dusk had merged into night when Bruce got to his feet again. Taps had +just sounded. The tired men gladly rolled themselves into their +blankets and fell into a dead sleep. A sentry-relief set forth to +replace the first batch of sentinels with the second. +</P> + +<P> +Mahan was of the party. Though the top-sergeant had been a stupid +comrade, thus far to-day, he was now evidently going for a walk. And +even though it was a duty-walk, yet the idea of it appealed to the dog +after his long inaction. +</P> + +<P> +So Bruce got up and followed. As he came alongside the stiffly marching +top-sergeant, the collie so far subverted discipline as to thrust his +nose, in friendly greeting, into Mahan's slightly cupped palm. And the +top-sergeant so far abetted the breach of discipline as to give the +collie's head a furtive pat. The night was dim, as the moon had not +risen; so the mutual contact of good-fellowship was not visible to the +marching men on either side of Mahan and the dog. And discipline, +therefore, did not suffer much, after all. +</P> + +<P> +At one post after another, a sentinel was relieved and a fresh man took +his place. Farthest in front of the "Here-We-Comes" lines—and nearest +to the German—was posted a lanky Missourian whom Bruce liked, a man +who had a way of discovering in his deep pockets stray bits of food +which he had hoarded there for the collie and delighted to dole out to +him. The Missourian had a drawlingly soft voice the dog liked, and he +used to talk to Bruce as if the latter were another human. +</P> + +<P> +For all these reasons—and because Mahan was too busy and too grumpy to +bother with him—Bruce elected to stay where he was, for a while, and +share the Missourian's vigil. So, when the rest of the party moved +along to the next sentry-go, the dog remained. The Missourian was only +too glad to have him do so. It is tedious and stupid to pace a desolate +beat, alone, at dead of night, after a day of hard fighting. And the +man welcomed the companionship of the dog. +</P> + +<P> +For a time, as the Missourian paced his solitary stretch of broken and +shrub-grown ground, Bruce gravely paced to and fro at his side. But +presently this aimless promenade began to wax uninteresting. And, as +the two came to the far end of the beat, Bruce yawned and lay down. It +was pleasanter to lie there and to watch the sentinel do the walking. +</P> + +<P> +Stretched out, in a little grass-hollow, the dog followed blinkingly +with his soft brown eyes the pendulumlike progress of his friend. And +always the dog's plumed tail would beat rhythmic welcome against the +ground as the sentry approached him. +</P> + +<P> +Thus nearly an hour wore on. A fat moon butted its lazy way through the +smoke-mists of the eastern skyline. +</P> + +<P> +Then something happened—something that Bruce could readily have +forestalled if the wind had been blowing from the other direction, and +if a dog's eyes were not as nearsighted as his nose is farsmelling. +</P> + +<P> +The Missourian paused to run his hand caressingly over the collie's +rough mane, and moved on, down the lonely beat. Bruce watched his +receding figure, drowsily. At the end of ninety yards or more, the +Missourian passed by a bunch of low bushes which grew at the near side +of a stretch of hilly and shellpocked ground. He moved past the bushes, +still watched by the somewhat bored dog. +</P> + +<P> +It was then that Bruce saw a patch of bushshadow detach itself from the +rest, under the glow of the rising moon. The shadow was humpy and +squat. Noiseless, it glided out from among the bushes, close at the +sentry's heels, and crept after him. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce pricked his ears and started to get up. His curiosity was roused. +The direction of the wind prevented him from smelling out the nature of +the mystery. It also kept his keen hearing from supplying any clue. And +the distance would not permit him to see with any distinctness. +</P> + +<P> +Still his curiosity was very mild. Surely, if danger threatened, the +sentinel would realize it. For by this time the Shadow was a bare three +feet behind him near enough, by Bruce's system of logic, for the +Missourian to have smelled and heard the pursuer. So Bruce got up, in +the most leisurely fashion, preparatory to strolling across to +investigate. But at almost his first step he saw something that changed +his gracefully slouching walk into a charging run. +</P> + +<P> +The Shadow suddenly had merged with the sentinel. For an instant, in +stark silence, the two seemed to cling together. Then the Shadow fled, +and the lanky Missourian slumped to the earth in a sprawling heap, his +throat cut. +</P> + +<P> +The slayer had been a deft hand at the job. No sound had escaped the +Missourian, from the moment the stranglingly tight left arm had been +thrown around his throat from behind until, a second later, he fell +bleeding and lifeless. +</P> + +<P> +In twenty leaping strides, Bruce came up to the slain sentinel and bent +over him. Dog-instinct told the collie his friend had been done to +death. And the dog's power of scent told him it was a German who had +done the killing. +</P> + +<P> +For many months, Bruce had been familiar with the scent of German +soldiers, so different from that of the army in which he toiled. And he +had learned to hate it, even as a dog hates the vague "crushed +cucumber" smell of a pitviper. But while every dog dreads the +viper-smell as much as he loathes it, Bruce had no fear at all of the +boche odor. Instead, it always awoke in him a blood-lust, as fierce as +any that had burned in his wolf-ancestors. +</P> + +<P> +This same fury swept him now, as he stood, quivering, above the body of +the kindly man who so lately had petted him; this and a craving to +revenge the murder of his human friend. +</P> + +<P> +For the briefest time, Bruce stood there, his dark eyes abrim with +unhappiness and bewilderment, as he gazed down on the huddled form in +the wet grass. Then an electric change came over him. The softness fled +from his eyes, leaving them bloodshot and blazing. His great tawny ruff +bristled like an angry cat's. The lazy gracefulness departed from his +mighty body. It became tense and terrible. In the growing moonlight his +teeth gleamed whitely from under his upcurled lip. +</P> + +<P> +In a flash he turned and set off at a loping run, nose close to ground, +his long stride deceptively swift. The zest of the man-hunt had +obsessed him, as completely as, that day, it had spurred the advance of +the "Here-We-Comes." +</P> + +<P> +The trail of the slayer was fresh, even over such broken ground. Fast +as the German had fled, Bruce was flying faster. Despite the murderer's +long start, the dog speedily cut down the distance between his quarry +and himself. Not trusting to sight, but solely to his unerring sense of +smell. Bruce sped on. +</P> + +<P> +Then, in a moment or two, his hearing re-enforced his scent. He could +catch the pad-pad-pad of running feet. And the increasing of the sound +told him he was gaining fast. +</P> + +<P> +But in another bound his ears told him something else—something he +would have heard much sooner, had not the night wind been setting so +strongly in the other direction. He heard not only the pounding of his +prey's heavy-shod feet, but the soft thud of hundreds—perhaps +thousands—of other army shoes. And now, despite the adverse wind, the +odor of innumerable soldiers came to his fiercely sniffing nostrils. +Not only was it the scent of soldiers, but of German soldiers. +</P> + +<P> +For the first time, Bruce lifted his head from the ground, as he ran, +and peered in front of him. The moon had risen above the low-lying +horizon vapors into a clear sky, and the reach of country was sharply +visible. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce saw the man he was chasing,—saw him plainly. The German was +still running, but not at all as one who flees from peril. He ran, +rather, as might the bearer of glad tidings. And he was even now +drawing up to a group of men who awaited eagerly his coming. There must +have been fifty men in the group. Behind them—in open formation and as +far as the dog's near-sighted eyes could see—were more men, and more, +and more—thousands of them, all moving stealthily forward. +</P> + +<P> +Now, a collie (in brain, though never in heart) is much more wolf than +dog. A bullterrier, or an Airedale, would have charged on at his foe, +and would have let himself be hacked to pieces before loosing his hold +on the man. +</P> + +<P> +But—even as a wolf checks his pursuit of a galloping sheep when the +latter dashes into the guarded fold—Bruce came to an abrupt halt, at +sight of these reenforcements. He stood irresolute, still mad with +vengeful anger, but not foolish enough to assail a whole brigade of +armed men. +</P> + +<P> +It is quite impossible (though Mahan and Vivier used to swear it must +be true) that Bruce had the reasoning powers to figure out the whole +situation which confronted him. He could not have known that a German +brigade had been sent to take advantage of the "Here-We-Comes" +temporarily isolated position—that three sentries had been killed in +silence and that their deaths had left a wide gap through which the +brigade hoped to creep unobserved until they should be within striking +distance of their unsuspectingly slumbering victims. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce could not have known this. He could not have grasped the +slightest fraction of the idea, being only a real-life dog and not a +fairytale animal. But what he could and did realize was that a mass of +detested Germans was moving toward him, and that he could not hope to +attack them, single-handed; also, that he was not minded to slink +peacefully away and leave his friend unavenged. +</P> + +<P> +Thwarted rage dragged from his furry throat a deep growl; a growl that +resounded eerily through that silent place of stealthy moves. And he +stepped majestically forth from the surrounding long grass, into the +full glare of moonlight. +</P> + +<P> +The deceptive glow made him loom gigantic and black, and tinged his +snowy chest with the phosphorous gleam of a snowfield. His eyes shone +like a wild beast's. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +Corporal Rudolph Freund, of the Konigin Luise Regiment, had just +finished his three-word report to his superior. He had merely saluted +and announced +</P> + +<P> +"He is dead!" +</P> + +<P> +Corporal Freund did not thrill, as usual, to the colonel's grunt of +approval. The Corporal was worried. He was a Black Forest peasant; and, +while iron military life had dulled his native superstitions, it had +not dispelled them. +</P> + +<P> +The night was mystic, in its odd blend of moon and shadows. However +hardened one may be, it is a nerve-strain to creep through long grass, +like a red Indian, to the murder of a hostile sentinel. And every +German in the "Pocket" had been under frightful mental and physical +stress, for the past week. +</P> + +<P> +Corporal Rudolph Freund was a brave man and a brute. But that week had +sapped his nerve. And the work of this night had been the climax. The +desolate ground, over which he had crawled to the killing, had suddenly +seemed peopled with evil gnomes and goblins, whose existence no true +Black Forest peasant can doubt. And, on the run back, he had been +certain he heard some unseen monster tearing through the underbrush in +hot pursuit of him. So certain had he been, that he had redoubled his +speed. +</P> + +<P> +There were no wolves or other large wild animals in that region. When +he had wriggled toward the slow-pacing American sentinel, he had seen +and heard no creature of any sort. Yet he was sure that on the way back +he had been pursued by—by Something! And into his scared memory, as he +ran, had flashed the ofttold Black Forest tale of the Werewolf—the +devil—beast that is entered by the soul of a murdered man and which +tracks the murderer to his death. +</P> + +<P> +Glad was the unnerved Corporal Freund when his run ceased and he stood +close to his grossly solid and rank-scented fellowmen once more. Almost +he was inclined to laugh at his fears of the fabled Werewolf—and +especially at the idea that he had been pursued. He drew a long breath +of relief. He drew the breath in. But he did not at once expel it. For +on his ears came the sound of a hideous menacing growl. +</P> + +<P> +Corporal Freund spun about, in the direction of the mysterious threat. +And there, not thirty feet from him, in the ghostly moonlight, stood +the Werewolf! +</P> + +<P> +This time there could be no question of overstrained nerves and of +imagination. The Thing was THERE! +</P> + +<P> +Horribly visible in every detail, the Werewolf was glaring at him. He +could see the red glow of the gigantic devil-beast's eyes, the white +flash of its teeth, the ghostly shimmering of its snowy chest. The soul +of the man he had slain had taken this traditional form and was hunting +down the slayer! A thousand stories of Freund's childhood verified the +frightful truth. And overwrought human nature's endurance went to +pieces under the shock. +</P> + +<P> +A maniac howl of terror split the midnight stillness. Shriek after +shriek rent the air. Freund tumbled convulsively to the ground at his +colonel's feet, gripping the officer's booted knees and screeching for +protection. The colonel, raging that the surprise attack should be +imperiled by such a racket, beat the frantic man over the mouth with +his heavy fist, kicking ferociously at his upturned writhing face, and +snarling to him to be silent. +</P> + +<P> +The shower of blows brought Freund back to sanity, to the extent of +changing his craven terror into Fear's secondary phase—the impulse to +strike back at the thing that had caused the fright. Rolling over and +over on the ground, under the impact of his superior's fist blows and +kicks, Freund somehow regained his feet. +</P> + +<P> +Reeling up to the nearest soldier, the panic-crazed corporal snatched +the private's rifle and fired three times, blindly, at Bruce. Then, +foaming at the mouth, Freund fell heavily to earth again, chattering +and twitching in a fit. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce, at the second shot, leaped high in the air, and collapsed, in an +inert furry heap, among the bushes. There he lay,—his career as a +courier-dog forever ended. +</P> + +<P> +Corporal Rudolph Freund was perhaps the best sniper in his regiment. +Wildly though he had fired, marksman-instinct had guided his bullets. +And at such close range there was no missing. Bruce went to earth with +one rifle ball through his body, and another in his leg. A third had +reached his skull. +</P> + +<P> +Now, the complete element of surprise was all-needful for the attack +the Germans had planned against the "Here-We-Comes." Deprived of that +advantage the expedition was doomed to utter failure. For, given a +chance to wake and to rally, the regiment could not possibly be +"rushed," in vivid moonlight, before the nearest Allied forces could +move up to its support. And those forces were only a mile or so to the +rear. There can be no possible hope for a surprise attack upon a +well-appointed camp when the night's stillness has been shattered by a +series of maniac screams and by three echoing rifle-shots. +</P> + +<P> +Already the guard was out. A bugle was blowing. In another minute, the +sentry-calls would locate the gap made by the three murdered sentinels. +</P> + +<P> +A swift guttural conference among the leaders of the gray-clad +marauders was followed by the barking of equally guttural commands. And +the Germans withdrew as quietly and as rapidly as they had come. +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +It was the mouthing and jabbering of the fit-possessed Corporal Rudolph +Freund that drew to him the notice of a squad of Yankees led by +Top-Sergeant Mahan, ten minutes later. It was the shudder—accompanied +pointing of the delirious man's finger, toward the nearby clump of +undergrowth, that revealed to them the still warm body of Bruce. +</P> + +<P> +Back to camp, carried lovingly in Mahan's strong arms, went all that +was left of the great courier-dog. Back to camp, propelled between two +none-too-gentle soldiers, staggered the fit-ridden Corporal Freund. +</P> + +<P> +At the colonel's quarters, a compelling dose of stimulant cleared some +of the mists from the prisoner's brain. His nerve and his will-power +still gone to smash, he babbled eagerly enough of the night attack, of +the killing of the sentries and of his encounter with the Werewolf. +</P> + +<P> +"I saw him fall!" he raved. "But he is not dead. The Werewolf can be +killed only by a silver bullet, marked with a cross and blessed by a +priest. He will live to track me down! Lock me where he cannot find me, +for the sake of sweet mercy!" +</P> + +<P> +And in this way, the "Here-We-Comes" learned of Bruce's part in the +night's averted disaster. +</P> + +<P> +Old Vivier wept unashamed over the body of the dog he had loved. +Top-Sergeant Mahan—the big tears splashing, unnoted, from his own red +eyes—besought the Frenchman to strive for better self-control and not +to set a cry-baby example to the men. +</P> + +<P> +Then a group of grim-faced soldiers dug a grave. And, carried by Mahan +and Vivier, the beautiful dog's body was borne to its resting-place. A +throng of men in the gray dawn stood wordless around the grave. Some +one shamefacedly took off his hat. With equal shamefacedness, everybody +else followed the example. +</P> + +<P> +Mahan laid the dog's body on the ground, at the grave's brink. Then, +looking about him, he cleared his throat noisily and spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"Boys," he began, "when a human dies for other humans, there's a +Christian burial service read over him. I'd have asked the chaplain to +read one over Bruce, here, if I hadn't known he'd say no. But the Big +Dog isn't going to rest without a word said over his grave, for all +that." +</P> + +<P> +Mahan cleared his throat noisily once more, winked fast, then went on:— +</P> + +<P> +"You can laugh at me, if any of you feel like it. But there's some of +you here who wouldn't be alive to laugh, if Bruce hadn't done what he +did last night. He was only just a dog—with no soul, and with no life +after this one, I s'pose. So he went ahead and did his work and took +the risks, and asked no pay. +</P> + +<P> +"And by and by he died, still doing his work and asking no pay. +</P> + +<P> +"He didn't work with the idea of getting a cross or a ribbon or a +promotion or a pension or his name in the paper or to make the crowd +cheer him when he got back home, or to brag to the homefolks about how +he was a hero. He just went ahead and WAS a hero. That's because he was +only a dog, with no soul—and not a man. +</P> + +<P> +"All of us humans are working for some reward, even if it's only for +our pay or for the fun of doing our share. But Bruce was a hero because +he was just a dog, and because he didn't know enough to be anything +else but a hero. +</P> + +<P> +"I've heard about him, before he joined up with us. I guess most of us +have. He lived up in Jersey, somewhere. With folks that had bred him. +I'll bet a year's pay he was made a lot of by those folks; and that it +wrenched 'em to let him go. You could see he'd been brought up that +way. Life must 'a' been pretty happy for the old chap, back there. Then +he was picked up and slung into the middle of this hell. +</P> + +<P> +"So was the rest of us, says you. But you're wrong. Those of us that +waited for the draft had our choice of going to the hoosgow, as +'conscientious objectors,' if we didn't want to fight. And every +mother's son of us knew we was fighting for the Right; and that we was +making the world a decenter and safer place for our grandchildren and +our womenfolks to live in. We didn't brag about God being on our side, +like the boches do. It was enough for us to know WE was on GOD'S side +and fighting His great fight for Him. We had patriotism and religion +and Right, behind us, to give us strength. +</P> + +<P> +"Brucie hadn't a one of those things. He didn't know what he was here +for—and why he'd been pitched out of his nice home, into all this. He +didn't have a chance to say Yes or No. He didn't have any spellbinders +to tell him he was making the world safe for d'mocracy. He was MADE to +come. +</P> + +<P> +"How would any of us humans have acted, if a deal like that had been +handed to us? We'd 'a' grouched and slacked and maybe deserted. That's +because we're lords of creation and have souls and brains and such. +What did Bruce do? He jumped into this game, with bells on. He risked +his life a hundred times; and he was just as ready to risk it again the +next day. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and he knew he was risking it, too. There's blame little he +didn't know. He saw war-dogs, all around him, choking to death from +gas, or screaming their lives out, in No Man's Land, when a bit of +shell had disemboweled 'em or a bullet had cracked their backbones. He +saw 'em starve to death. He saw 'em one bloody mass of scars and sores. +He saw 'em die of pneumonia and mange and every rotten trench disease. +And he knew it might be his turn, any time at all, to die as they were +dying; and he knew the humans was too busy nursing other humans, to +have time to spare on caring for tortured dogs. (Though those same dogs +were dying for the humans, if it comes to that.) +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Bruce knew what the end was bound to be. He knew it. And he kept +on, as gay and as brave as if he was on a day's romp. He never +flinched. Not even that time the K.O. sent him up the hill for +reenforcements at Rache, when every sharpshooter in the boche trenches +was laying for him, and when the machine guns were trained on him, too. +Bruce knew he was running into death—, then and a dozen other times. +And he went at it like a white man. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm—I'm getting longwinded. And I'll stop. But—maybe if you boys +will remember the Big Dog—and what he did for us,—when you get back +home,—if you'll remember him and what he did and what thousands of +other war-dogs have done,—then maybe you'll be men enough to punch the +jaw of any guy who gets to saying that dogs are nuisances and that +vivisection's a good thing, and all that. If you'll just do that much, +then—well, then Bruce hasn't lived and died for nothing! +</P> + +<P> +"Brucie, old boy," bending to lift the tawny body and lower it into the +grave, "it's good-by. It's good-by to the cleanest, whitest pal that a +poor dub of a doughboy ever had. I—" +</P> + +<P> +Mahan glowered across at the clump of silent men. +</P> + +<P> +"If anybody thinks I'm crying," he continued thickly, "he's a liar. I +got a cold, and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Sacre bon Dieu!" yelled old Vivier, insanely. "Regarde-donc! Nom d'une +pipe!" +</P> + +<P> +He knelt quickly beside the body, in an ecstasy of excitement. The +others craned their necks to see. Then from a hundred throats went up a +gasp of amazement. +</P> + +<P> +Bruce, slowly and dazedly, was lifting his magnificent head! +</P> + +<P> +"Chase off for the surgeon!" bellowed Mahan, plumping down on his knees +beside Vivier and examining the wound in the dog's scalp. "The bullet +only creased his skull! It didn't go through! It's just put him out for +a few hours, like I've seen it do to men. Get the surgeon! If that +bullet in his body didn't hit something vital, we'll pull him around, +yet! GLORY BE!" +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +It was late summer again at The Place, late opulent summer, with the +peace of green earth and blue sky, the heavy droning of bees and the +promise of harvest. The long shadows of late afternoon stretched +lovingly across the lawn, from the great lakeside trees. Over +everything brooded a dreamy amber light. The war seemed a million miles +away. +</P> + +<P> +The Mistress and the Master came down from the vine-shaded veranda for +their sunset walk through the grounds. At sound of their steps on the +gravel, a huge dark-brown-and-white collie emerged from his +resting-place under the wistaria-arbor. +</P> + +<P> +He stretched himself lazily, fore and aft, in collie-fashion. Then he +trotted up to his two deities and thrust his muzzle playfully into the +Mistress's palm, as he fell into step with the promenaders. +</P> + +<P> +He walked with a stiffness in one foreleg. His gait was not a limp. But +the leg's strength could no longer be relied on for a ten-mile gallop. +Along his forehead was a new-healed bullet-crease. And the fur on his +sides had scarcely yet grown over the mark of the high-powered ball +which had gone clear through him without touching a mortal spot. +</P> + +<P> +Truly, the regimental surgeon of the "Here-We-Comes" had done a job +worthy of his own high fame! And the dog's wonderful condition had done +the rest. +</P> + +<P> +Apart from scars and stiffness, Bruce was none the worse for his year +on the battle-front. He could serve no longer as a dashing courier. But +his life as a pet was in no way impaired. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's something that came by the afternoon mail, Bruce," the Master +greeted him, as the collie ranged alongside. "It belongs to you. Take a +look at it." +</P> + +<P> +The Master drew from his pocket a leather box, and opened it. On the +oblong of white satin, within the cover, was pinned a very small and +very thin gold medal. But, light as it was, it had represented much +abstinence from estaminets and tobacco-shops, on the part of its donors. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen," the Master said, holding the medal in front of the collie. +"Listen, while I read you the inscription: 'To Bruce. From some of the +boys he saved from the boches.'" +</P> + +<P> +Bruce was sniffing the thin gold lozenge interestedly. The inscription +meant nothing to him. But—strong and vivid to his trained nostrils—he +scented on the medal the loving finger-touch of his old friend and +admirer, Top-Sergeant Mahan. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +THE END +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bruce, by Albert Payson Terhune + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRUCE *** + +***** This file should be named 2391-h.htm or 2391-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/9/2391/ + +Produced by Dianne Bean. HTML version by Al Haines. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Bruce + +Author: Albert Payson Terhune + +Posting Date: March 27, 2009 [EBook #2391] +Release Date: November, 2000 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRUCE *** + + + + +Produced by Dianne Bean. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + +Bruce + + +by + +Albert Payson Terhune + + + + +TO MY TEN BEST FRIENDS: + +Who are far wiser in their way and far better in every way, than I; and +yet who have not the wisdom to know it + +Who do not merely think I am perfect, but who are calmly and +permanently convinced of my perfection;--and this in spite of fifty +disillusions a day + +Who are frantically happy at my coming and bitterly woebegone in my +absence + +Who never bore me and never are bored by me + +Who never talk about themselves and who always listen with rapturous +interest to anything I may say + +Who, having no conventional standards, have no respectability; and who, +having no conventional consciences, have no sins + +Who teach me finer lessons in loyalty, in patience, in true courtesy, +in unselfishness, in divine forgiveness, in pluck and in abiding good +spirits than do all the books I have ever read and all the other models +I have studied + +Who have not deigned to waste time and eyesight in reading a word of +mine and who will not bother to read this verbose tribute to themselves + +In short, to the most gloriously satisfactory chums who ever appealed +to human vanity and to human desire for companionship + +TO OUR TEN SUNNYBANK COLLIES MY STORY IS GRATEFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY +DEDICATED + + + +BRUCE + +by + +Albert Payson Terhune + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. The Coming Of Bruce + II. The Pest + III. The War Dog + IV. When Eyes Were No Use + V. The Double Cross + VI. The Werewolf + + + +CHAPTER I. The Coming Of Bruce + +She was beautiful. And she had a heart and a soul--which were a curse. +For without such a heart and soul, she might have found the tough +life-battle less bitterly hard to fight. + +But the world does queer things--damnable things--to hearts that are so +tenderly all-loving and to souls that are so trustfully and forgivingly +friendly as hers. + +Her "pedigree name" was Rothsay Lass. She was a collie--daintily +fragile of build, sensitive of nostril, furrily tawny of coat. Her +ancestry was as flawless as any in Burke's Peerage. + +If God had sent her into the world with a pair of tulip ears and with a +shade less width of brain-space she might have been cherished and +coddled as a potential bench-show winner, and in time might even have +won immortality by the title of "CHAMPION Rothsay Lass." + +But her ears pricked rebelliously upward, like those of her earliest +ancestors, the wolves. Nor could manipulation lure their stiff +cartilages into drooping as bench-show fashion demands. The average +show-collie's ears have a tendency to prick. By weights and plasters, +and often by torture, this tendency is overcome. But never when the +cartilage is as unyielding as was Lass's. + +Her graceful head harked back in shape to the days when collies had to +do much independent thinking, as sheep-guards, and when they needed +more brainroom than is afforded by the borzoi skull sought after by +modern bench-show experts. + +Wherefore, Lass had no hope whatever of winning laurels in the +show-ring or of attracting a high price from some rich fancier. She was +tabulated, from babyhood, as a "second"--in other words, as a faulty +specimen in a litter that should have been faultless. + +These "seconds" are as good to look at, from a layman's view, as is any +international champion. And their offspring are sometimes as perfect as +are those of the finest specimens. But, lacking the arbitrary "points" +demanded by show-judges, the "seconds" are condemned to obscurity, and +to sell as pets. + +If Lass had been a male dog, her beauty and sense and lovableness would +have found a ready purchaser for her. For nine pet collies out of ten +are "seconds"; and splendid pets they make for the most part. + +But Lass, at the very start, had committed the unforgivable sin of +being born a female. Therefore, no pet-seeker wanted to buy her. Even +when she was offered for sale at half the sum asked for her less +handsome brothers, no one wanted her. + +A mare--or the female of nearly any species except the canine--brings +as high and as ready a price as does the male. But never the female +dog. Except for breeding, she is not wanted. + +This prejudice had its start in Crusader days, some thousand years ago. +Up to that time, all through the civilized world, a female dog had been +more popular as a pet than a male. The Mohammedans (to whom, by creed, +all dogs are unclean) gave their European foes the first hint that a +female dog was the lowest thing on earth. + +The Saracens despised her, as the potential mother of future dogs. And +they loathed her accordingly. Back to Europe came the Crusaders, +bearing only three lasting memorials of their contact with the Moslems. +One of the three was a sneering contempt for all female dogs. + +There is no other pet as loving, as quick of wit, as loyal, as +staunchly brave and as companionable as the female collie. She has all +the male's best traits and none of his worst. She has more in common, +too, with the highest type of woman than has any other animal alive. +(This, with all due respect to womanhood.) + +Prejudice has robbed countless dog-lovers of the joy of owning such a +pal. In England the female pet dog has at last begun to come into her +own. Here she has not. The loss is ours. + +And so back to Lass. + +When would-be purchasers were conducted to the puppy-run at the Rothsay +kennels, Lass and her six brethren and sisters were wont to come +galloping to the gate to welcome the strangers. For the pups were only +three months old--an age when every event is thrillingly interesting, +and everybody is a friend. Three times out of five, the buyer's eye +would single Lass from the rollicking and fluffy mass of puppyhood. + +She was so pretty, so wistfully appealing, so free from fear (and from +bumptiousness as well) and carried herself so daintily, that one's +heart warmed to her. The visitor would point her out. The kennel-man +would reply, flatteringly-- + +"Yes, she sure is one fine pup!" + +The purchaser never waited to hear the end of the sentence, before +turning to some other puppy. The pronoun, "she," had killed forever his +dawning fancy for the little beauty. + +The four males of the litter were soon sold; for there is a brisk and a +steady market for good collie pups. One of the two other females died. +Lass's remaining sister began to "shape up" with show-possibilities, +and was bought by the owner of another kennel. Thus, by the time she +was five months old, Lass was left alone in the puppy-run. + +She mourned her playmates. It was cold, at night, with no other cuddly +little fur-ball to snuggle down to. It was stupid, with no one to help +her work off her five-months spirits in a romp. And Lass missed the +dozens of visitors that of old had come to the run. + +The kennel-men felt not the slightest interest in her. Lass meant +nothing to them, except the work of feeding her and of keeping an extra +run in order. She was a liability, a nuisance. + +Lass used to watch with pitiful eagerness for the attendants' +duty-visits to the run. She would gallop joyously up to them, begging +for a word or a caress, trying to tempt them into a romp, bringing them +peaceofferings in the shape of treasured bones she had buried for her +own future use. But all this gained her nothing. + +A careless word at best--a grunt or a shove at worst were her only +rewards. For the most part, the men with the feed-trough or the +water-pail ignored her bounding and wrigglingly eager welcome as +completely as though she were a part of the kennel furnishings. Her +short daily "exercise scamper" in the open was her nearest approach to +a good time. + +Then came a day when again a visitor stopped in front of Lass's run. He +was not much of a visitor, being a pallid and rather shabbily dressed +lad of twelve, with a brand-new chain and collar in his hand. + +"You see," he was confiding to the bored kennel-man who had been +detailed by the foreman to take him around the kennels, "when I got the +check from Uncle Dick this morning, I made up my mind, first thing, to +buy a dog with it, even if it took every cent. But then I got to +thinking I'd need something to fasten him with, so he wouldn't run away +before he learned to like me and want to stay with me. So when I got +the check cashed at the store, I got this collar and chain." + +"Are you a friend of the boss?" asked the kennel-man. + +"The boss?" echoed the boy. "You mean the man who owns this place? No, +sir. But when I've walked past, on the road, I've seen his 'Collies for +Sale' sign, lots of times. Once I saw some of them being exercised. +They were the wonderfulest dogs I ever saw. So the minute I got the +money for the check, I came here. I told the man in the front yard I +wanted to buy a dog. He's the one who turned me over to you. I +wish--OH!" he broke off in rapture, coming to a halt in front of Lass's +run. "Look! Isn't he a dandy?" + +Lass had trotted hospitably forward to greet the guest. Now she was +standing on her hind legs, her front paws alternately supporting her +fragile weight on the wire of the fence and waving welcomingly toward +the boy. Unknowingly, she was bidding for a master. And her wistful +friendliness struck a note of response in the little fellow's heart. +For he, too, was lonesome, much of the time, as is the fate of a sickly +only child in an overbusy home. And he had the true craving of the +lonely for dog comradeship. + +He thrust his none-too-clean hand through the wire mesh and patted the +puppy's silky head. Lass wiggled ecstatically under the unfamiliar +caress. All at once, in the boy's eyes, she became quite the most +wonderful animal and the very most desirable pet on earth. + +"He's great!" sighed the youngster in admiration; adding naively: "Is +he Champion Rothsay Chief--the one whose picture was in The Bulletin +last Sunday?" + +The kennel-man laughed noisily. Then he checked his mirth, for +professional reasons, as he remembered the nature of the boy's quest +and foresaw a bare possibility of getting rid of the unwelcome Lass. + +"Nope," he said. "This isn't Chief. If it was, I guess your Uncle +Dick's check would have to have four figures in it before you could +make a deal. But this is one of Chief's daughters. This is Rothsay +Lass. A grand little girl, ain't she? Say,"--in a confidential +whisper,--"since you've took a fancy for her, maybe I could coax the +old man into lettin' you have her at an easy price. He was plannin' to +sell her for a hundred or so. But he goes pretty much by what I say. He +might let her go for--How much of a check did you say your uncle sent +you?" + +"Twelve dollars," answered the boy,--"one for each year. Because I'm +named for him. It's my birthday, you know. But--but a dollar of it went +for the chain and the collar. How much do you suppose the gentleman +would want for Rothsay Lass?" + +The kennel-man considered for a moment. Then he went back to the house, +leaving the lad alone at the gate of the run. Eleven dollars, for a +high-pedigreed collie pup, was a joke price. But no one else wanted +Lass, and her feed was costing more every day. According to Rothsay +standards, the list of brood-females was already complete. Even as a +gift, the kennels would be making money by getting rid of the +prick-eared "second." Wherefore he went to consult with the foreman. + +Left alone with Lass, the boy opened the gate and went into the run. A +little to his surprise Lass neither shrank from him nor attacked him. +She danced about his legs in delight, varying this by jumping up and +trying to lick his excited face. Then she thrust her cold nose into the +cup of his hand as a plea to be petted. + +When the kennel-man came back, the boy was sitting on the dusty ground +of the run, and Lass was curled up rapturously in his lap, learning how +to shake hands at his order. + +"You can have her, the boss says," vouchsafed the kennel-man. "Where's +the eleven dollars?" + +By this graceless speech Dick Hazen received the key to the Seventh +Paradise, and a life-membership in the world-wide Order of Dog-Lovers. + +The homeward walk, for Lass and her new master, was no walk at all, but +a form of spiritual levitation. The half-mile pilgrimage consumed a +full hour of time. Not that Lass hung back or rebelled at her first +taste of collar and chain! These petty annoyances went unfelt in the +wild joy of a real walk, and in the infinitely deeper happiness of +knowing her friendship-famine was appeased at last. + +The walk was long for various reasons--partly because, in her frisking +gyrations, Lass was forever tangling the new chain around Dick's thin +ankles; partly because he stopped, every block or so, to pat her or to +give her further lessons in the art of shaking hands. Also there were +admiring boy-acquaintances along the way, to whom the wonderful pet +must be exhibited. + +At last Dick turned in at the gate of a cheap bungalow on a cheap +street--a bungalow with a discouraged geranium plot in its +pocket-handkerchief front yard, and with a double line of drying +clothes in the no larger space behind the house. + +As Dick and his chum rounded the house, a woman emerged from between +the two lines of flapping sheets, whose hanging she had been +superintending. She stopped at sight of her son and the dog. + +"Oh!" she commented with no enthusiasm at all. "Well, you did it, hey? +I was hoping you'd have better sense, and spend your check on a nice +new suit or something. He's kind of pretty, though," she went on, the +puppy's friendliness and beauty wringing the word of grudging praise +from her. "What kind of a dog is he? And you're sure he isn't savage, +aren't you?" + +"Collie," answered Dick proudly. "Pedigreed collie! You bet she isn't +savage, either. Why, she's an angel. She minds me already. See--shake +hands, Lass!" "Lass!" ejaculated Mrs. Hazen. "'SHE!' Dick, you don't +mean to tell me you've gone and bought yourself a--a FEMALE dog?" + +The woman spoke in the tone of horrified contempt that might well have +been hers had she found a rattlesnake and a brace of toads in her son's +pocket. And she lowered her voice, as is the manner of her kind when +forced to speak of the unspeakable. She moved back from the puppy's +politely out-thrust forepaw as from the passing of a garbage cart. + +"A female dog!" she reiterated. "Well, of all the chuckle-heads! A +nasty FEMALE dog, with your birthday money!" + +"She's not one bit nasty!" flamed Dick, burying the grubby fingers of +his right hand protectively in the fluffy mass of the puppy's +half-grown ruff. "She's the dandiest dog ever! She--" + +"Don't talk back to me!" snapped Mrs. Hazen. "Here! Turn right around +and take her to the cheats who sold her to you. Tell them to keep her +and give you the good money you paid for her. Take her out of my yard +this minute! Quick!" + +A hot mist of tears sprang into the boy's eyes. Lass, with the queer +intuition that tells a female collie when her master is unhappy, whined +softly and licked his clenched hand. + +"I--aw, PLEASE, Ma!" he begged chokingly. "PLEASE! It's--it's my +birthday, and everything. Please let me keep her. I--I love her better +than 'most anything there is. Can't I please keep her? Please!" + +"You heard what I said," returned his mother curtly. + +The washerwoman, who one day a week lightened Mrs. Hazen's household +labors, waddled into view from behind the billows of wind-swirled +clothes. She was an excellent person, and was built for endurance +rather than for speed. At sight of Lass she paused in real interest. + +"My!" she exclaimed with flattering approval. "So you got your dog, did +you? You didn't waste no time. And he's sure a handsome little critter. +Whatcher goin' to call him?" + +"It's not a him, Irene," contradicted Mrs. Hazen, with another modest +lowering of her strong voice. "It's a HER. And I'm sending Dick back +with her, to where she came from. I've got my opinion of people who +will take advantage of a child's ignorance, by palming off a horrid +female dog on him, too. Take her away, Dick. I won't have her here +another minute. You hear me?" + +"Please, Ma!" stammered Dick, battling with his desire to cry. "Aw, +PLEASE! I--I--" + +"Your ma's right, Dick," chimed in the washerwoman, her first +interested glance at the puppy changing to one of refined and lofty +scorn. "Take her back. You don't want any female dogs around. No nice +folks do." + +"Why not?" demanded the boy in sudden hopeless anger as he pressed +lovingly the nose Lass thrust so comfortingly into his hand. "WHY don't +we want a female dog around? Folks have female cats around them, and +female women. Why isn't a female dog--" + +"That will do, Dick!" broke in his shocked mother. "Take her away." + +"I won't," said the boy, speaking very slowly, and with no excitement +at all. + +A slap on the side of his head, from his mother's punitive palm, made +him stagger a little. Her hand was upraised for a second installment of +rebellion-quelling--when a slender little body flashed through the air +and landed heavily against her chest. A set of white puppy-teeth all +but grazed her wrathful red face. + +Lass, who never before had known the impulse to attack, had jumped to +the rescue of the beaten youngster whom she had adopted as her god. The +woman screeched in terror. Dick flung an arm about the furry whirlwind +that was seeking to avenge his punishment, and pulled the dog back to +his side. + +Mrs. Hazen's shriek, and the obbligato accompaniment of the +washerwoman, made an approaching man quicken his steps as he strolled +around the side of the house. The newcomer was Dick's father, +superintendent of the local bottling works. On his way home to lunch, +he walked in on a scene of hysteria. + +"Kill her, sir!" bawled the washerwoman, at sight of him. "Kill her! +She's a mad dog. She just tried to kill Miz' Hazen!" + +"She didn't do anything of the kind!" wailed Dick. "She was pertecting +me. Ma hit me; and Lass--" + +"Ed!" tearily proclaimed Mrs. Hazen, "if you don't send for a policeman +to shoot that filthy beast, I'll--" + +"Hold on!" interrupted the man, at a loss to catch the drift of these +appeals, by reason of their all being spoken in a succession so rapid +as to make a single blurred sentence. "Hold on! What's wrong? And where +did the pup come from? He's a looker, all right a cute little cuss. +What's the row?" + +With the plangently useless iterations of a Greek chorus, the tale was +flung at him, piecemeal and in chunks, and in a triple key. When +presently he understood, Hazen looked down for a moment at the +puppy--which was making sundry advances of a shy but friendly nature +toward him. Then he looked at the boy, and noted Dick's hero-effort to +choke back the onrush of babyish sobs. And then, with a roughly +tolerant gesture, he silenced the two raucous women, who were beginning +the tale over again for the third time. + +"I see," he said. "I see. I see how it is. Needn't din it at me any +more, folks. And I see Dicky's side of it, too. Yes, and I see the +pup's side of it. I know a lot about dogs. That pup isn't vicious. She +knows she belongs to Dick. You lammed into him, and she took up and +defended him. That's all there is to the 'mad-dog' part of it." + +"But Ed--" sputtered his wife. + +"Now, you let ME do the talking, Sade!" he insisted, half-grinning, yet +more than half grimly. "I'm the boss here. If I'm not, then it's safe +to listen to me till the boss gets here. And we're goin' to do whatever +I say we are--without any back-talk or sulks, either. It's this way: +Your brother gave the boy a birthday check. We promised he could spend +it any way he had a mind to. He said he wanted a dog, didn't he? And I +said, 'Go to it!' didn't I? Well, he got the dog. Just because it +happens to be a she, that's no reason why he oughtn't to be allowed to +keep it. And he can. That goes." + +"Oh, Dad!" squealed Dick in grateful heroworship. "You're a brick! I'm +not ever going to forget this, so long as I live. Say, watch her shake +hands, Dad! I've taught her, already, to--" + +"Ed Hazen!" loudly protested his wife. "Of all the softies! You haven't +backbone enough for a prune. And if my orders to my own son are going +to be--" + +"That'll be all, Sade!" interposed the man stiffly--adding: "By the +way, I got a queer piece of news to tell you. Come into the kitchen a +minute." + +Grumbling, rebellious, scowling,--yet unable to resist the lure of a +"queer piece of news," Mrs. Hazen followed her husband indoors, leaving +Dick and his pet to gambol deliriously around the clothes-festooned +yard in celebration of their victory. + +"Listen here, old girl!" began Hazen the moment the kitchen door was +shut behind them. "Use some sense, can't you? I gave you the wink, and +you wouldn't catch on. So I had to make the grandstand play. I'm no +more stuck on having a measly she-dog around here than you are. And +we're not going to have her, either. But--" + +"Then why did you say you were going to? Why did you make a fool of me +before Irene and everything?" she demanded, wrathful yet bewildered. + +"It's the boy's birthday, isn't it?" urged Hazen. "And I'd promised +him, hadn't I? And, last time he had one of those 'turns,' didn't Doc +Colfax say we mustn't let him fret and worry any more'n we could help? +Well, if he had to take that dog back to-day, it'd have broke his +heart. He'd have felt like we were his enemies, and he'd never have +felt the same to us again. And it might have hurt his health too--the +shock and all. So--" + +"But I tell you," she persisted, "I won't have a dirty little female--" + +"We aren't going to," he assured her. "Keep your hair on, till I've +finished. Tonight, after Dick's asleep, I'm going to get rid of her. +He'll wake up in the morning and find she's gone; and the door'll be +open. He'll think she's run away. He'll go looking for her, and he'll +keep on hoping to find her. So that'll ease the shock, you see, by +letting him down bit by bit, instead of snatching his pet away from him +violent-like. And he won't hold it up against US, either, as he would +the other way. I can offer a reward for her, too." + +There was a long and thought-crammed pause. The woman plunged deep into +the silences as her fat brain wrought over the suggestion. Then-- + +"Maybe you HAVE got just a few grains of sense, after all, Ed," +grudgingly vouchsafed Mrs. Hazen. "It isn't a bad idea. Only he'll +grieve a lot for her." + +"He'll be hoping, though," said her husband. "He'll be hoping all the +while. That always takes the razor-edge off of grieving. Leave it to +me." + +That was the happiest day Dick Hazen had ever known. And it was the +first actively happy day in all Lass's five months of life. + +Boy and dog spent hours in a ramble through the woods. They began +Lass's education--which was planned to include more intricate tricks +than a performing elephant and a troupe of circus dogs could hope to +learn in a lifetime. They became sworn chums. Dick talked to Lass as if +she were human. She amazed the enraptured boy by her cleverness and +spirits. His initiation to the dog-masters' guild was joyous and +complete. + +It was a tired and ravenous pair of friends who scampered home at +dinner-time that evening. The pallor was gone from Dick's face. His +cheeks were glowing, and his eyes shone. He ate greedily. His parents +looked covertly at each other. And the self-complacency lines around +Hazen's mouth blurred. + +Boy and dog went to bed early, being blissfully sleepy and full of +food--also because another and longer woodland ramble was scheduled for +the morrow. + +Timidly Dick asked leave to have Lass sleep on the foot of his cot-bed. +After a second telegraphing of glances, his parents consented. Half an +hour later the playmates were sound asleep, the puppy snuggling deep in +the hollow of her master's arm, her furry head across his thin chest. + +It was in this pose that Hazen found them when, late in the evening, he +tiptoed into Dick's cubby-hole room. He gazed down at the slumberous +pair for a space, while he fought and conquered an impulse toward fair +play. Then he stooped to pick up the dog. + +Lass, waking at the slight creak of a floorboard, lifted her head. At +sight of the figure leaning above her adored master, the lip curled +back from her white teeth. Far down in her throat a growl was born. +Then she recognized the intruder as the man who had petted her and fed +her that evening. The growl died in her throat, giving place to a +welcoming thump or two of her bushy tail. Dick stirred uneasily. + +Patting the puppy lightly on her upraised head, Hazen picked up Lass in +his arms and tiptoed out of the room with her. Mistaking this move for +a form of caress, she tried to lick his face. The man winced. + +Downstairs and out into the street Hazen bore his trustful little +burden, halting only to put on his hat, and for a whispered word with +his wife. For nearly a mile he carried the dog. Lass greatly enjoyed +the ride. She was pleasantly tired, and it was nice to be carried thus, +by some one who was so considerate as to save her the bother of walking. + +At the edge of the town, Hazen set her on the ground and at once began +to walk rapidly away in the direction of home. He had gone perhaps +fifty yards when Lass was gamboling merrily around his feet. A kick +sent the dismayed and agonized puppy flying through the air like a +whimpering catapult, and landed her against a bank with every atom of +breath knocked out of her. Before she had fairly struck ground,--before +she could look about her,--Hazen had doubled around a corner and had +vanished. + +At a run, he made for home, glad the unpleasant job was over. At the +door his wife met him. + +"Well," she demanded, "did you drown her in the canal, the way you +said?" + +"No," he confessed sheepishly, "I didn't exactly drown her. You see, +she nestled down into my arms so cozy and trusting-like, that I--well, +I fixed it so she'll never show up around here again. Trust me to do a +job thoroughly, if I do it at all. I--" + +A dramatic gesture from Mrs. Hazen's stubby forefinger interrupted him. +He followed the finger's angry point. Close at his side stood Lass, +wagging her tail and staring expectantly up at him. + +With her keen power of scent, it had been no exploit at all to track +the man over a mile of unfamiliar ground. Already she had forgiven the +kick or had put it down to accident on his part. And at the end of her +eager chase, she was eager for a word of greeting. + +"I'll be--" gurgled Hazen, blinking stupidly. + +"I guess you will be," conceded his wife. "If that's the 'thorough' way +you do your jobs at the factory--" + +"Say," he mumbled in a sort of wondering appeal, "is there any HUMAN +that would like to trust a feller so much as to risk another +ribcracking kick, just for the sake of being where he is? I almost +wish--" + +But the wish was unspoken. Hazen was a true American husband. He feared +his wife more than he loved fairness. And his wife's glare was full +upon him. With a grunt he picked Lass up by the neck, tucked her under +his arm and made off through the dark. + +He did not take the road toward the canal, however. Instead he made for +the railroad tracks. He remembered how, as a lad, he had once gotten +rid of a mangy cat, and he resolved to repeat the exploit. It was far +more merciful to the puppy--or at least, to Hazen's conscience,--than +to pitch Lass into the slimy canal with a stone tied to her neck. + +A line of freight cars--"empties"--was on a siding, a short distance +above the station. Hazen walked along the track, trying the door of +each car he passed. The fourth he came to was unlocked. He slid back +the newly greased side door, thrust Lass into the chilly and black +interior and quickly slid shut the door behind her. Then with the silly +feeling of having committed a crime, he stumbled away through the +darkness at top speed. + +A freight car has a myriad uses, beyond the carrying of legitimate +freight. From time immemorial, it has been a favorite repository for +all manner of illicit flotsam and jetsam human or otherwise. + +Its popularity with tramps and similar derelicts has long been a theme +for comic paper and vaudeville jest. Though, heaven knows, the inside +of a moving box-car has few jocose features, except in the imagination +of humorous artist or vaudevillian! + +But a far more frequent use for such cars has escaped the notice of the +public at large. As any old railroader can testify, trainhands are +forever finding in box-cars every genus and species of stray. + +These finds range all the way from cats and dogs and discarded white +rabbits and canaries, to goats. Dozens of babies have been discovered, +wailing and deserted, in box-car recesses; perhaps a hundred miles from +the siding where, furtively, the tiny human bundle was thrust inside +some conveniently unlatched side door. + +A freight train offers glittering chances for the disposal of the +Unwanted. More than once a slain man or woman has been sent along the +line, in this grisly but effective fashion, far beyond the reach of +recognition. + +Hazen had done nothing original or new in depositing the luckless +collie pup in one of these wheeled receptacles. He was but following an +old-established custom, familiar to many in his line of life. There was +no novelty to it,--except to Lass. + +The car was dark and cold and smelly. Lass hated it. She ran to its +door. Here she found a gleam of hope for escape and for return to the +home where every one that day had been so kind to her. Hazen had shut +the door with such vehemence that it had rebounded. The hasp was down, +and so the catch had not done its duty. The door had slid open a few +inches from the impetus of Hazen's shove. + +It was not wide enough open to let Lass jump out, but it was wide +enough for her to push her nose through. And by vigorous thrusting, +with her triangular head as a wedge, she was able to widen the +aperture, inch by inch. In less than three minutes she had broadened it +far enough for her to wriggle out of the car and leap to the side of +the track. There she stood bewildered. + +A spring snow was drifting down from the sulky sky. The air was damp +and penetrating. By reason of the new snow the scent of Hazen's +departing footsteps was blotted out. Hazen himself was no longer in +sight. As Lass had made the journey from house to tracks with her head +tucked confidingly under her kidnaper's arm, she had not noted the +direction. She was lost. + +A little way down the track the station lights were shining with misty +warmth through the snow. Toward these lights the puppy trotted. + +Under the station eaves, and waiting to be taken aboard the almost-due +eleven-forty express, several crates and parcels were grouped. One +crate was the scene of much the same sort of escape-drama that Lass had +just enacted. + +The crate was big and comfortable, bedded down with soft sacking and +with "insets" at either side containing food and water. But commodious +as was the box, the unwonted confinement did not at all please its +occupant--a temperamental and highly bred young collie in process of +shipment from the Rothsay Kennels to a purchaser forty miles up the +line. + +This collie, wearying of the delay and the loneliness and the strange +quarters, had begun to plunge from one side of the crate to the other +in an effort to break out. A carelessly nailed slat gave away under the +impact. The dog scrambled through the gap and proceeded to gallop +homeward through the snow. + +Ten seconds later, Lass, drawn by the lights and by the scent of the +other dog, came to the crate. She looked in. There, made to order for +her, was a nice bed. There, too, were food and drink to appease the +ever-present appetite of a puppy. Lass writhed her way in through the +gap as easily as the former occupant had crawled out. + +After doing due justice to the broken puppy biscuits in the +inset-trough, she curled herself up for a nap. + +The clangor and glare of the oncoming express awakened her. She cowered +in one corner of the crate. Just then two station-hands began to move +the express packages out to the edge of the platform. One of them +noticed the displaced board of the crate. He drove home its loosened +nails with two sharp taps from a monkey-wrench, glanced inside to make +certain the dog had not gotten out, and presently hoisted the crate +aboard the express-car. + +Two hours later the crate was unloaded at a waystation. At seven in the +morning an expressman drove two miles with it to a country-home, a mile +or so from the village where Lass had been disembarked from the train. + +An eager knot of people--the Mistress, the Master and two +gardeners--crowded expectantly around the crate as it was set down on +the lawn in front of The Place's veranda. The latch was unfastened, and +the crate's top was lifted back on its hinges. + +Out stepped Lass,--tired, confused, a little frightened, but eagerly +willing to make friends with a world which she still insisted on +believing was friendly. It is hard to shake a collie pup's inborn faith +in the friendliness of mankind, but once shaken, it is more than +shaken. It is shattered beyond hope of complete mending. + +For an instant she stood thus, looking in timid appeal from one to +another of the faces about her. These faces were blank enough as they +returned her gaze. The glad expectancy was wiped from them as with a +sponge. It was the Master who first found voice. + +"And THAT'S Rothsay Princess!" he snorted indignantly. "That's the pup +worth two hundred dollars at eight months, 'because she has every +single good point of Champion Rothsay Chief and not a flaw from nostril +to tail-tip'! Rothsay wrote those very words about her, you remember. +And he's supposed to be the most dependable man in the collie business! +Lord! She's undersized--no bigger than a five monther! And she's +prick-eared and apple-domed; and her head's as wide as a church door!" + +Apparently these humans were not glad to see her. Lass was grieved at +their cold appraisal and a little frightened by the Master's tone of +disgust. Yet she was eager, as ever, to make a good impression and to +lure people into liking her. Shyly she walked up to the Mistress and +laid one white little paw on her knee. + +Handshaking was Lass's one accomplishment. It had been taught her by +Dick. It had pleased the boy. He had been proud of her ability to do +it. Perhaps it might also please these strangers. And after the odd +fashion of all new arrivals who came to The Place, Lass picked out the +Mistress, rather than any one else, as a potential friend. + +The Mistress had ever roused the impatience of collie experts by +looking past the showier "points" of a dog and into the soul and brain +and disposition that lay behind them. So now she looked; and what she +saw in Lass's darkly wistful eyes established the intruder's status at +The Place. + +"Let her stay!" pleaded the Mistress as the Master growled something +about bundling the dog into her crate again and sending her back to the +Rothsay Kennels. "Let her stay, please! She's a dear." + +"But we're not breeding 'dears,'" observed the Master. "We planned to +breed a strain of perfect collies. And this is a mutt!" + +"Her pedigree says there's no better collie blood in America," denied +the Mistress. "And even if she happens to be a 'second,' that's no sign +her puppies will be seconds. See how pretty and loving and wise she is. +DO keep her!" + +Which of course settled the matter. + +Up the lawn, from his morning swim in the lake, strolled a great +mahogany-and-white collie. At sight of Lass he lowered his head for a +charge. He was king of The Place's dogs, this mighty thoroughbred, +Sunnybank Lad. And he did not welcome canine intruders. + +But he halted midway in his dash toward the puppy who frisked forth so +gayly to meet him. For he recognized her as a female. And man is the +only animal that will molest the female of his species. + +The fiercely silent charge was changed in a trice to a coldly civil +touching of noses, and the majestic wagging of a plumy tail. After +which, side by side, the two collies--big and little--old and +new--walked up to the veranda, to be petted by the humans who had so +amusedly watched their encounter. + +"See!" exclaimed the Mistress, in triumph. "Lad has accepted her. He +vouches for her. That ought to be enough for any one!" + +Thus it was that Lass found a home. + +As she never yet had been taught to know her name, she learned readily +to respond to the title of "Princess." And for several months life went +on evenly and happily for her. + +Indeed, life was always wondrous pleasant, there at The Place,--for +humans and for animals alike. A fire-blue lake bordered the grounds on +two sides. Behind stretched the forest. And on every side arose the +soft green mountains, hemming in and brooding over The Place as though +they loved it. In the winter evenings there was the huge library hearth +with its blaze and warmth; and a disreputable fur rug in front of it +that might have been ordained expressly for tired dogs to drowse on. +And there were the Mistress and the Master. Especially the Mistress! +The Mistress somehow had a way of making all the world seem worth while. + +Then, of a morning, when Lass was just eleven months old, two things +happened. + +The Mistress and the Master went down to her kennel after breakfast. +Lass did not run forth to greet them as usual. She lay still, wagging +her tail in feeble welcome as they drew near. But she did not get up. + +Crowding close to her tawny side was a tiny, shapeless creature that +looked more like a fat blind rat than like anything else. It was a +ten-hour-old collie pup--a male, and yellowish brown of hue. + +"That's the climax!" complained the Master, breaking in on the +Mistress's rhapsodies. "Here we've been planning to start a kennel of +home-bred collies! And see what results we get! One solitary puppy! Not +once in ten times are there less than six in a collie-litter. Sometimes +there are a dozen. And here the dog you wheedled me into keeping has +just one! I expected at least seven." + +"If it's a freak to be the only puppy in a litter," answered the +Mistress, refusing to part with her enthusiasm over the miracle, "then +this one ought to bring us luck. Let's call him 'Bruce.' You remember, +the original Bruce won because of the mystic number, seven. This Bruce +has got to make up to us for the seven puppies that weren't born. See +how proud she is of him! Isn't she a sweet little mother?" + +The second of the morning's events was a visit from the foreman of the +Rothsay Kennels, who motored across to The Place, intent on clearing up +a mystery. + +"The Boss found a collie yesterday, tied in the front yard of a negro +cabin a mile or two from our kennels," he told the Master. "He +recognized her right away as Rothsay Princess. The negro claims to have +found her wandering around near the railroad tracks, one night, six +months ago. Now, what's the answer?" + +"The answer," said the Master, "is that your boss is mistaken. I've had +Rothsay Princess for the past six months. And she's the last dog I'll +ever get from the Rothsay Kennels. I was stung, good and plenty, on +that deal. + +"My wife wanted to keep her, or I'd have made a kick in the courts for +having to pay two hundred dollars for a cheeky, apple-domed, prick +eared--" + +"Prick-eared!" exclaimed the foreman, aghast at the volleyed sacrilege. +"Rothsay Princess has the best ears of any pup we've bred since +Champion Rothsay Chief. Not a flaw in that pup. She--" + +"Not a flaw, hey!" sniffed the Master. "Come down to the kennel and +take a look at her. She has as many flaws as a street-cur has fleas." + +He led the way to the kennel. At sight of the stranger Lass growled and +showed her teeth. For a collie mother will let nobody but proven +friends come near to her newborn brood. + +The foreman stared at the hostile young mother for a half-minute, +whistling bewilderedly between his teeth. Then he laughed aloud. + +"That's no more Rothsay Princess than I am!" he declared. "I know who +she IS, though. I'd remember that funny mask among a million. That's +Rothsay Lass! Though how she got HERE--! + +"We couldn't have shipped her by mistake, either," he went on, +confused. "For we'd sold her, that same day, to a kid in our town. I +ought to know. Because the kid kept on pestering us every day for a +month afterward, to find if she had come back to us. He said she ran +away in the night. He still comes around, once a week or so, to ask. A +spindly, weak, sick-looking little chap, he is. I don't get the point +of this thing, from any angle. But we run our kennels on the square. +And I can promise the boss'll either send back your check or send +Rothsay Princess to you and take Lass back." + +Two days later, while all The Place was still mulling over the mystery, +a letter came for the Master from Lass's home town. It was signed +"Edw'd Hazen," and it was written on the cheap stationery of his +employer's bottling works. It read: + +Dear Sir: + +"Six months ago, my son bought a dog from the Rothsay Kennels. It was a +she-dog, and his ma and I didn't want one around. So I put it aboard a +freight-car on the sly. My boy went sick over losing his dog. He has +never rightly got over it, but he peaks and mopes and gets thinner all +the time. If I had known how hard he was going to take it, I would of +cut off my hand before I would of done such a thing. And my wife feels +just like I do about it. We would both of us have given a hundred +dollars to get the dog back for him, when we saw how bad he felt. But +it was too late. Somehow or other it is most generally too late when a +rotten thing has been done. + +"To-day he went again to the Rothsay Kennels to ask if she had come +back. He has always been hoping she would. And they told him you have +her. Now, sir, I am a poor man, but if one hundred dollars will make +you sell me that dog, I'll send it to you in a money order by return +mail. It will be worth ten times that much, to my wife and me, to have +Dick happy again. I inclose a stamp. Will you let me know?" + +Six weeks afterward The Place's car brought Dick Hazen across to +receive his long-lost pet. + +The boy was thinner and shakier and whiter than when he had gone to +sleep with his cherished puppy curled against his narrow chest. But +there was a light in his eyes and an eagerness in his heart that had +not been there in many a long week. + +Lass was on the veranda to welcome him. And as Dick scrambled out of +the car and ran to pick her up, she came more than half-way to meet +him. With a flurry of fast-pattering steps and a bark of eager welcome, +she flung herself upon her long-vanished master. For a highbred collie +does not forget. And at first glimpse of the boy Lass remembered him. + +Dick caught her up in his arms--a harder feat than of yore, because of +her greater weight and his own sapped strength,--and hugged her tight +to his breast. Winking very fast indeed to disperse tears that had no +place in the eyes of a self-contained man of twelve, he sputtered +rapturously: + +"I KNEW I'd find you, Lassie--I knew it all the time;--even the times +when I was deadsure I wouldn't! Gee, but you've grown, though! And +you're beautifuler than ever. Isn't she, Miss?" he demanded, turning to +the Mistress with instinctive knowledge that here at least he would +find confirmation. "Indeed she is!" the Mistress assured him. + +"And see how glad she is to be with you again! She--" + +"And Dad says she can stay with me, for keeps!" exulted Dick. "He says +he'll put a new lock on the cellar door, so she can't ever push out +again, the way she did, last time. But I guess she's had her lesson in +going out for walks at night and not being able to find her way back. +She and I are going to have the dandiest times together, that ever +happened. Aren't we, Lass? Is that her little boy?" he broke off, in +eager curiosity, as the Master appeared from the kennels, carrying +Bruce. + +The puppy was set down on the veranda floor for Dick's inspection. + +"He's cunning, isn't he? Kind of like a Teddy Bear,--the sort kids play +with. But," with a tinge of worry, "I'm not sure Ma will let me keep +two. Maybe--" + +"Perhaps," suggested the Mistress, "perhaps you'd like us to keep +little Bruce, to remember Lass by? We'll try to make him very happy." + +"Yes'm!" agreed Dick, in much haste, his brow clearing from a mental +vision of Mrs. Hazen's face when she should see him return with twice +as many dogs as he had set out for. "Yes'm. If you wouldn't mind, very +much. S'pose we leave it that way? I guess Bruce'll like being with +you, Miss. I--I guess pretty near anybody would. You'll--you'll try not +to be too homesick for Lass, won't you?" + +On the steps of the veranda the downy and fat puppy watched his +mother's departure with no especial interest. By the Mistress's wish, +Mr. Hazen had not been required to make any part of his proffered +hundred-dollar payment for the return of his boy's pet. All the +Mistress had stipulated was that Lass might be allowed to remain at The +Place until baby Bruce should no longer need her. + +"Bruce," said the Mistress as the car rolled up the drive and out of +sight, "you are the sole visible result of The Place's experiment in +raising prize collies. You have a tremendous responsibility on those +fat little shoulders of yours,--to live up to it all." + +By way of showing his scorn for such trifles as a "tremendous +responsibility," Bruce proceeded to make a ferocious onslaught at the +Mistress's temperamental gray Persian kitten, "Tipperary," which was +picking a mincing way across the veranda. + +A howl of pain and two scratches on his tiny nose immediately followed +the attack. Tipperary then went on with her mincing promenade. And +Bruce, with loud lamentations, galloped to the shelter of the +Mistress's skirt. + +"Poor little chap!" soothed the Mistress, picking him up and comforting +him. "Responsibility isn't such a joke, after all, is it, Baby?" + + + +CHAPTER II. The Pest + +Thackeray, as a lad, was dropped from college for laziness and for +gambling. Bismarck failed to get a University degree, because he lacked +power to study and because he preferred midnight beer to midnight oil. +George Washington, in student days, could never grasp the simplest +rules of spelling. The young Lincoln loved to sprawl in the shade with +fish-pole or tattered book, when he should have been working. + +Now, these men were giants--physically as well as mentally. Being +giants, they were by nature slow of development. + +The kitten, at six months of age, is graceful and compact and of +perfect poise. The lion-cub, at the same age, is a gawky and foolish +and ill-knit mass of legs and fur; deficient in sense and in symmetry. +Yet at six years, the lion and the cat are not to be compared for power +or beauty or majesty or brain, or along any other lines. + +The foregoing is not an essay on the slow development of the Great. It +is merely a condensation of the Mistress's earnest arguments against +the selling or giving away of a certain hopelessly awkward and +senseless and altogether undesirable collie pup named Bruce. + +From the very first, the Mistress had been Bruce's champion at The +Place. There was no competition for that office. She and she alone +could see any promise in the shambling youngster. + +Because he had been born on The Place, and because he was the only son +of Rothsay Lass, whom the Mistress had also championed against strong +opposition, it had been decided to keep and raise him. But daily this +decision seemed less and less worth while. Only the Mistress's +championing of the Undesirable prevented his early banishment. + +From a fuzzy and adventurous fluff-ball of gray-gold-and-white fur, +Bruce swiftly developed into a lanky giant. He was almost as large +again as is the average collie pup of his age; but, big as he was, his +legs and feet and head were huge, out of all proportion to the rest of +him. The head did not bother him. Being hampered by no weight of brain, +it would be navigated with more or less ease, in spite of its bulk. But +the legs and feet were not only in his own way, but in every one else's. + +He seemed totally lacking in sense, as well as in bodily coordination. +He was forever getting into needless trouble. He was a stormcenter. No +one but a born fool--canine or human--could possibly have caused +one-tenth as much bother. + +The Mistress had named him "Bruce," after the stately Scottish +chieftain who was her history-hero. And she still called him +Bruce--fifty times a day--in the weary hope of teaching him his name. +But every one else on The Place gave him a title instead of a name--a +title that stuck: "The Pest." He spent twenty-four hours, daily, living +up to it. + +Compared with Bruce's helplessly clownish trouble-seeking propensities, +Charlie Chaplin's screen exploits are miracles of heroic dignity and of +good luck. + +There was a little artificial water-lily pool on The Place, perhaps +four feet deep. By actual count, Bruce fell into it no less than nine +times in a single week. Once or twice he had nearly drowned there +before some member of the family chanced to fish him out. And, learning +nothing from experience, he would fall in again, promptly, the next day. + +The Master at last rigged up a sort of sloping wooden platform, running +from the lip of the pool into the water, so that Bruce could crawl out +easily, next time he should tumble in. Bruce watched the placing of +this platform with much grave interest. The moment it was completed, he +trotted down it on a tour of investigation. At its lower edge he +slipped and rolled into the pool. There he floundered, with no thought +at all of climbing out as he had got in, until the Master rescued him +and spread a wire net over the whole pool to avert future accidents. + +Thenceforth, Bruce met with no worse mischance, there, than the +perpetual catching of his toe-pads in the meshes of the wire. Thus +ensnared he would stand, howling most lamentably, until his yells +brought rescue. + +Though the pool could be covered with a net, the wide lake at the foot +of the lawn could not be. Into the lake Bruce would wade till the water +reached his shoulders. Then with a squeal of venturesome joy, he would +launch himself outward for a swim; and, once facing away from shore, he +never had sense enough to turn around. + +After a half-hour of steady swimming, his soft young strength would +collapse. A howl of terror would apprise the world at large that he was +about to drown. Whereat some passing boatman would pick him up and hold +him for ransom, or else some one from The Place must jump into skiff or +canoe and hie with all speed to the rescue. The same thing would be +repeated day after day. + +The local S.P.C.A. threatened to bring action against the Master for +letting his dog risk death, in this way, from drowning. Morbidly, the +Master wished the risk might verge into a certainty. + +The puppy's ravenous appetite was the wonder of all. He stopped eating +only when there was nothing edible in reach. And as his ideas of edible +food embraced everything that was chewable,--from bath-towels to +axle-grease--he was seldom fasting and was frequently ill. + +Nature does more for animals than for humans. By a single experience +she warns them, as a rule, what they may safely eat and what they may +not. Bruce was the exception. He would pounce upon and devour a +luscious bit of laundry-soap with just as much relish as though a +similar bit of soap had not made him horribly sick the day before. + +Once he munched, relishfully, a two-pound box of starch, box and all; +on his recovery, he began upon a second box, and was unhappy when it +was taken from him. + +He would greet members of the family with falsetto-thunderous barks of +challenge as they came down the drive from the highway. But he would +frisk out in joyous welcome to meet and fawn upon tramps or peddlers +who sought to invade The Place. He could scarce learn his own name. He +could hardly be taught to obey the simplest command. As for shaking +hands or lying down at order (those two earliest bits of any dog's +education), they meant no more to Bruce than did the theory of +quadratic equations. + +At three months he launched forth merrily as a chicken-killer; +gleefully running down and beheading The Place's biggest Orpington +rooster. But his first kill was his last. The Master saw to that. + +There is no use in thrashing a dog for killing poultry. There is but +one practically sure cure for the habit. And this one cure the Master +applied. + +He tied the slain rooster firmly around Bruce's furry throat, and made +the puppy wear it, as a heavy and increasingly malodorous pendant, for +three warm days and nights. + +Before the end of this seventy-two-hour period, Bruce had grown to +loathe the sight and scent of chicken. Stupid as he was, he learned +this lesson with absolute thoroughness,--as will almost any +chicken-killing pup,--and it seemed to be the only teaching that his +unawakened young brain had the power to grasp. + +In looks, too, Bruce was a failure. His yellowish-and-white body was +all but shapeless. His coat was thick and heavy enough, but it showed a +tendency to curl--almost to kink--instead of waving crisply, as a +collie's ought. The head was coarse and blurred in line. The body was +gaunt, in spite of its incessant feedings. As for contour or style-- + +It was when the Master, in disgust, pointed out these diverse failings +of the pup, that the Mistress was wont to draw on historic precedent +for other instances of slow development, and to take in vain the names +of Thackeray, Lincoln, Washington and Bismarck and the rest. + +"Give him time!" she urged once. "He isn't quite six months old yet; +and he has grown so terribly fast. Why, he's over two feet tall, at the +shoulder, even now--much bigger than most full-grown collies. Champion +Howgill Rival is spoken of as a 'big' dog; yet he is only twenty-four +inches at the shoulder, Mr. Leighton says. Surely it's something to own +a dog that is so big." + +"It IS 'something,'" gloomily conceded the Master. "In our case it is a +catastrophe. I don't set up to be an expert judge of collies, so maybe +I am all wrong about him. I'm going to get professional opinion, +though. Next week they are going to have the spring dogshow at Hampton. +It's a little hole-in-a-corner show, of course. But Symonds is to be +the all-around judge, except for the toy breeds. And Symonds knows +collies, from the ground up. I am going to take Bruce over there and +enter him for the puppy class. If he is any good, Symonds will know it. +If the dog is as worthless as I think he is, I'll get rid of him. If +Symonds gives any hope for him, I'll keep him on a while longer." + +"But," ventured the Mistress, "if Symonds says 'Thumbs down,' then--" + +"Then I'll buy a pet armadillo or an ornithorhynchus instead," +threatened the Master. "Either of them will look more like a collie +than Bruce does." + +"I--I wonder if Mr. Symonds smokes," mused the Mistress under her +breath. + +"Smokes?" echoed the Master. "What's that got to do with it?" + +"I was only wondering," she made hesitant answer, "if a box of very +wonderful cigars, sent to him with our cards, mightn't perhaps--" + +"It's a fine sportsmanly proposition!" laughed the Master. "When women +get to ruling the world of sport, there'll be no need of comic +cartoons. Genuine photographs will do as well. If it's just the same to +you, dear girl, we'll let Symonds buy his own cigars, for the present. +The dog-show game is almost the only one I know of where a judge is +practically always on the square. People doubt his judgment, sometimes, +but there is practically never any doubt of his honesty. Besides, we +want to get the exact dope on Bruce. (Not that I haven't got it, +already!) If Symonds 'gates' him, I'm going to offer him for sale at +the show. If nobody buys him there, I'm going--" + +"He hasn't been 'gated' yet," answered the Mistress in calm confidence. + +At the little spring show, at Hampton, a meager eighty dogs were +exhibited, of which only nine were collies. This collie division +contained no specimens to startle the dog-world. Most of the exhibits +were pets. And like nearly all pets, they were "seconds"--in other +words, the less desirable dogs of thoroughbred litters. + +Hampton's town hall auditorium was filled to overcrowding, with a mass +of visitors who paraded interestedly along the aisles between the +raised rows of stall-like benches where the dogs were tied; or who +grouped densely around all four sides of the roped judging-ring in the +center of the hall. + +For a dogshow has a wel-nigh universal appeal to humanity at large; +even as the love for dogs is one of the primal and firm-rooted human +emotions. Not only the actual exhibitor and their countless friends +flock to such shows; but the public at large is drawn thither as to no +other function of the kind. + +Horse-racing, it is true, brings out a crowd many times larger than +does a dogshow. But only because of the thrill of winning or losing +money. For where one's spare cash is, there is his heart and his +all-absorbing interest. Yet it is a matter of record that grass is +growing high, on the race-tracks, in such states as have been able to +enforce the anti-betting laws. The "sport of kings" flourishes only +where wagers may accompany it. Remove the betting element, and you turn +your racetrack into a huge and untrodden lot. + +There is practically no betting connected with any dogshow. People go +there to see the dogs and to watch their judging, and for nothing else. +As a rule, the show is not even a social event. Nevertheless, the +average dogshow is thronged with spectators. (Try to cross Madison +Square Garden, on Washington's Birthday afternoon, while the +Westminster Kennel Club's Show is in progress. If you can work your way +through the press of visitors in less than half an hour, then Nature +intended you for a football champion.) + +The fortunate absence of a betting-interest alone keeps such affairs +from becoming among the foremost sporting features of the world. Many +of the dogs on view are fools, of course. Because many of them have +been bred solely with a view to show-points. And their owners and +handlers have done nothing to awaken in their exhibits the half-human +brain and heart that is a dog's heritage. All has been sacrificed to +"points"--to points which are arbitrary and which change as freakily as +do fashions in dress. + +For example, a few years ago, a financial giant collected and exhibited +one of the finest bunches of collies on earth. He had a competent +manager and an army of kennel-men to handle them. He took inordinate +pride in these priceless collies of his. Once I watched him, at the +Garden Show, displaying them to some Wall Street friends. Three times +he made errors in naming his dogs. Once, when he leaned too close to +the star collie of his kennels, the dog mistook him for a stranger and +resented the intrusion by snapping at him. He did not know his own +pets, one from another. And they did not know their owner, by sight or +by scent. + +At the small shows, there is an atmosphere wholly different. Few of the +big breeders bother to compete at such contests. The dogs are for the +most part pets, for which their owners feel a keen personal affection, +and which have been brought up as members of their masters' households. +Thus, if small shows seldom bring forth a world-beating dog, they at +least are full of clever and humanized exhibits and of men and women to +whom the success or failure of their canine friends is a matter of +intensest personal moment. Wherefore the small show often gives the +beholder something he can find but rarely in a larger exhibition. + +A few dogs genuinely enjoy shows--or are supposed to. To many others a +dogshow is a horror. + +Which windy digression brings us back by prosy degrees to Bruce and to +the Hampton dogshow. + +The collies were the first breed to be judged. And the puppy class, as +usual, was the first to be called to the ring. + +There were but three collie pups, all males. One was a rangy tri-color +of eleven months, with a fair head and a bad coat. The second was an +exquisite six-months puppy, rich of coat, prematurely perfect of head, +and cowhocked. These two and Bruce formed the puppy class which paraded +before Symonds in the oblong ring. + +"Anyhow," whispered the Mistress as the Master led his stolidly +gigantic entry toward the enclosure, "Bruce can't get worse than a +third-prize yellow ribbon. We ought to be a little proud of that. There +are only three entries in his class." + +But even that bit of barren pride was denied the awkward youngster's +sponsor. As the three pups entered the enclosure, the judge's half-shut +eyes rested on Bruce--at first idly, then in real amazement. Crossing +to the Master, before giving the signal for the first maneuvers, he +said in tired disgust-- + +"Please take your measly St. Bernard monstrosity out of the ring. This +is a class for collies, not for freaks. I refuse to judge that pup as a +collie." + +"He's a thoroughbred," crossly protested the Master. "I have his +certified pedigree. There's no better blood in--" + +"I don't care what his ancestors were," snapped the judge. "He's a +throw-back to the dinosaur or the Great Auk. And I won't judge him as a +collie. Take him out of the ring. You're delaying the others." + +A judge's decision is final. Red with angry shame and suppressing an +unworthy desire to kick the luckless Bruce, the Master led the pup back +to his allotted bench. Bruce trotted cheerily along with a maddening +air of having done something to be proud of. Deaf to the Mistress's +sympathy and to her timidly voiced protests, the Master scrawled on an +envelope-back the words "For Sale. Name Your Own Price," and pinned it +on the edge of the bench. + +"Here endeth the first lesson in collie-raising, so far as The Place is +concerned," he decreed, stalking back to the ringside to watch the rest +of the judging. + +The Mistress lingered behind, to bestow a furtive consolatory pat upon +the disqualified Bruce. Then she joined her husband beside the ring. + +It was probably by accident that her skirt brushed sharply against the +bench-edge as she went--knocking the "For Sale" sign down into the +litter of straw below. + +But a well-meaning fellow-exhibitor, across the aisle, saw the bit of +paper flutter floorward. This good soul rescued it from the straw and +pinned it back in place. + +(The world is full of helpful folk. That is perhaps one reason why the +Millennium's date is still so indefinite.) + +An hour later, a man touched the Master on the arm. + +"That dog of yours, on Bench 48," began the stranger, "the big pup with +the 'For Sale' sign on his bench. What do you want for him?" + +The Mistress was several feet away, talking to the superintendent of +the show. Guiltily, yet gratefully, the Master led the would-be +purchaser back to the benches, without attracting his wife's notice. + +A few minutes afterward he returned to where she and the superintendent +were chatting. + +"Well," said the Master, trying to steel himself against his wife's +possible disappointment, "I found a buyer for Bruce--a Dr. Halding, +from New York. He likes the pup. Says Bruce looks as if he was strong +and had lots of endurance. I wonder if he wants him for a sledge-dog. +He paid me fifteen dollars for him; and it was a mighty good bargain. I +was lucky to get more than a nickel for such a cur." + +The Master shot forth this speech in almost a single rapid breath. +Then, before his wife could reply,--and without daring to look into her +troubled eyes,--he discovered an acquaintance on the far side of the +ring and bustled off to speak to him. The Master, you see, was a +husband, not a hero. + +The Mistress turned a worried gaze on the superintendent. + +"It was best, I suppose," she said bravely. "We agreed he must be sold, +if the judge decided he was not any good. But I'm sorry. For I'm fond +of him. I'm sorry he is going to live in New York, too. A big city is +no place for a big dog. I hope this Dr. Halding will be nice to the +poor puppy." + +"Dr.--WHO?" sharply queried the superintendent, who had not caught the +name when the Master had spoken it in his rapid-fire speech. "Dr. +Halding? Of New York? Huh! + +"You needn't worry about the effect of city life on your dog," he went +on with venomous bitterness. "The pup won't have a very long spell of +it. If I had my way, that man Halding would be barred from every +dog-show and stuck in jail. It's an old trick of his, to buy up +thoroughbreds, cheap, at shows. The bigger and the stronger they are, +the more he pays for them. He seems to think pedigreed dogs are better +for his filthy purposes than street curs. They have a higher nervous +organism, I suppose. The swine!" + +"What do you mean?" asked the Mistress, puzzled by his vehemence. "I +don't--" + +"You must have heard of Halding and his so-called 'research work,'" the +superintendent went on. "He is one of the most notorious +vivisectionists in--" + +The superintendent got no further. He was talking to empty air. The +Mistress had fled. Her determined small figure made a tumbled wake +through the crowd as she sped toward Bruce's bench. The puppy was no +longer there. In another second the Mistress was at the door of the +building. + +A line of parked cars was stretched across the opposite side of the +village street. Into one of these cars a large and loose-jointed man +was lifting a large and loose-jointed dog. The dog did not like his +treatment, and was struggling pathetically in vain awkwardness to get +free. + +"Bruce!" called the Mistress, fiercely, as she dashed across the street. + +The puppy heard the familiar voice and howled for release. Dr. Halding +struck him roughly over the head and scrambled into the machine with +him, reaching with his one disengaged hand for the self-starter button. +Before he could touch it, the Mistress was on the running-board of the +car. + +As she ran, she had opened her wristbag. Now, flinging on the +runabout's seat a ten and a five-dollar bill, she demanded-- + +"Give me my dog! There is the money you paid for him!" + +"He isn't for sale," grinned the Doctor. "Stand clear, please. I'm +starting." + +"You're doing nothing of the sort," was the hot reply. "You'll give +back my dog! Do you understand?" + +For answer Halding reached again toward his self-starter. A renewed +struggle from the whimpering puppy frustrated his aim and forced him to +devote both hands to the subduing of Bruce. The dog was making frantic +writhings to get to the Mistress. She caught his furry ruff and raged +on, sick with anger. + +"I know who you are and what you want this poor frightened puppy for. +You shan't have him! There seems to be no law to prevent human devils +from strapping helpless dogs to a table and torturing them to death in +the unholy name of science. But if there isn't a corner waiting for +them, below, it's only because Hades can't be made hot enough to punish +such men as they ought to be punished! You're not going to torture +Bruce. There's your money. Let go of him." + +"You talk like all silly, sloppy sentimentalists!" scoffed the Doctor, +his slight German accent becoming more noticeable as he continued: "A +woman can't have the intellect to understand our services to humanity. +We--" + +"Neither have half the real doctors!" she flashed. "Fully half of them +deny that vivisection ever helped humanity. And half the remainder say +they are in doubt. They can't point to a single definite case where it +has been of use. Alienists say it's a distinct form of mental +perversion,--the craving to torture dumb animals to death and to make +scientific notes of their sufferings." + +"Pah!" he sniffed. "I--" + +She hurried on + +"If humanity can't be helped without cutting live dogs and kittens to +shreds, in slow agony--then so much the worse for humanity! If you +vivisectors would be content to practice on one another--or on +condemned murderers,--instead of on friendly and innocent dogs, there'd +be no complaint from any one. But leave our pets alone. Let go of my +puppy!" + +By way of response the Doctor grunted in lofty contempt. At the same +time he tucked the wriggling dog under his right arm, holding him thus +momentarily safe, and pressed the self-starter button. + +There was a subdued whir. A move of Halding's foot and a release of the +brake, and the car started forward. + +"Stand clear!" he ordered. "I'm going." + +The jolt of the sudden start was too much for the Mistress's balance on +the running-board. Back she toppled. Only by luck did she land on her +feet instead of her head, upon the greasy pavement of the street. + +But she sprang forward again, with a little cry of indignant dismay, +and reached desperately into the moving car for Bruce, calling him +eagerly by name. + +Dr. Halding was steering with his left hand, while his viselike right +arm still encircled the protesting collie. As the Mistress ran +alongside and grasped frantically for her doomed pet, he let go of +Bruce for an instant, to fend off her hand--or perhaps to thrust her +away from the peril of the fast-moving mud-guards. At the Mistress's +cry--and at the brief letup of pressure caused by the Doctor's menacing +gesture toward the unhappy woman--Bruce's long-sleeping soul awoke. He +answered the cry and the man's blow at his deity in the immemorial +fashion of all dogs whose human gods are threatened. + +There was a snarling wild-beast growl, the first that ever had come +from the clownlike puppy's throat,--and Bruce flung his unwieldy young +body straight for the vivisector's throat. + +Halding, with a vicious fist-lunge, sent the pup to the floor of the +car in a crumpled heap, but not before the curving white eyeteeth had +slashed the side of the man's throat in an ugly flesh-wound that drove +its way dangerously close to the jugular. + +Half stunned by the blow, and with the breath knocked out of him, Bruce +none the less gathered himself together with lightning speed and +launched his bulk once more for Halding's throat. + +This time he missed his mark--for several things happened all at once. + +At the dog's first onslaught, Halding's foot had swung forward, along +with his fist, in an instinctive kick. The kick did not reach Bruce. +But it landed, full and effectively, on the accelerator. + +The powerful car responded to the touch with a bound. And it did so at +the very moment that the flash of white teeth at his throat made +Halding snatch his own left hand instinctively from the steering-wheel, +in order to guard the threatened spot. + +A second later the runabout crashed at full speed into the wall of a +house on the narrow street's opposite side. + +The rest was chaos. + +When a crowd of idlers and a policeman at last righted the wrecked car, +two bodies were found huddled inertly amid a junk-heap of splintered +glass and shivered wood and twisted metal. The local ambulance carried +away one of these limp bodies. The Place's car rushed the smash-up's +other senseless victim to the office of the nearest veterinary. Dr. +Halding, with a shattered shoulder-blade and a fractured nose and jaw +and a mild case of brain-concussion,--was received as a guest of honor +at the village hospital. + +Bruce, his left foreleg broken and a nasty assortment of glass-cuts +marring the fluffiness of his fur, was skillfully patched up by the +vet' and carried back that night to The Place. + +The puppy had suddenly taken on a new value in his owners' eyes--partly +for his gallantly puny effort at defending the Mistress, partly because +of his pitiful condition. And he was nursed, right zealously, back to +life and health. + +In a few weeks, the plaster cast on the convalescent's broken foreleg +had been replaced by a bandage. In another week or two the vet' +pronounced Bruce as well as ever. The dog, through habit, still held +the mended foreleg off the ground, even after the bandage was removed. +Whereat, the Master tied a bandage tightly about the uninjured foreleg. + +Bruce at once decided that this, and not the other, was the lame leg; +and he began forthwith to limp on it. As it was manifestly impossible +to keep both forelegs off the ground at the same time when he was +walking, he was forced to make use of the once-broken leg. Finding, to +his amaze, that he could walk on it with perfect ease, he devoted his +limping solely to the well leg. And as soon as the Master took the +bandage from that, Bruce ceased to limp at all. + +Meanwhile, a lawyer, whose name sounded as though it had been culled +from a Rhine Wine list, had begun suit, in Dr. Halding's name, against +the Mistress, as a "contributory cause" of his client's accident. The +suit never came to trial. It was dropped, indeed, with much haste. Not +from any change of heart on the plaintiff's behalf; but because, at +that juncture, Dr. Halding chanced to be arrested and interned as a +dangerous Enemy Alien. Our country had recently declared war on +Germany; and the belated spy-hunt was up. + +During the Federal officers' search of the doctor's house, for +treasonable documents (of which they found an ample supply), they came +upon his laboratory. No fewer than five dogs, in varying stages of +hideous torture, were found strapped to tables or hanging to +wall-hooks. The vivisector bewailed, loudly and gutturally, this cruel +interruption to his researches in Science's behalf. + +One day, two months after the accident, Bruce stood on all four feet +once more, with no vestige left of scars or of lameness. And then, for +the first time, a steady change that had been so slow as to escape any +one's notice dawned upon the Mistress and the Master. It struck them +both at the same moment. And they stared dully at their pet. + +The shapeless, bumptious, foolish Pest of two months ago had vanished. +In his place, by a very normal process of nature-magic, stood a +magnificently stately thoroughbred collie. + +The big head had tapered symmetrically, and had lost its puppy +formlessness. It was now a head worthy of Landseer's own pencil. The +bonily awkward body had lengthened and had lost its myriad knobs and +angles. It had grown massively graceful. + +The former thatch of half-curly and indeterminately yellowish fuzz had +changed to a rough tawny coat, wavy and unbelievably heavy, stippled at +the ends with glossy black. There was a strange depth and repose and +Soul in the dark eyes--yes, and a keen intelligence, too. + +It was the old story of the Ugly Duckling, all over again. + +"Why!" gasped the Mistress. "He's--he's BEAUTIFUL! And I never knew it." + +At her loved voice the great dog moved across to where she sat. Lightly +he laid one little white paw on her knee and looked gravely up into her +eyes. + +"He's got sense, too," chimed in the Master. "Look at those eyes, if +you doubt it. They're alive with intelligence. It's--it's a miracle! He +can't be the same worthless whelp I wanted to get rid of! He CAN'T!" + +And he was not. The long illness, at the most formative time of the +dog's growth, had done its work in developing what, all the time, had +lain latent. The same illness--and the long-enforced personal touch +with humans--had done an equally transforming work on the puppy's +undeveloped mind. The Thackeray-Washington-Lincoln-Bismarck simile had +held good. + +What looked like a miracle was no more than the same beautifully simple +process which Nature enacts every day, when she changes an awkward and +dirt-colored cygnet into a glorious swan or a leggily gawky colt into a +superb Derby-winner. But Bruce's metamorphosis seemed none the less +wonderful in the eyes of the two people who had learned to love him. + +Somewhere in the hideous wreck of Dr. Halding's motorcar the dog had +found a soul--and the rest had followed as a natural course of growth. + +At the autumn dog-show, in Hampton, a "dark-sable-and-white" collie of +unwonted size and beauty walked proudly into the ring close to the +Mistress's side, when the puppy class was called--a class that includes +all dogs under twelve months old. Six minutes later the Mistress was +gleesomely accepting the first-prize blue ribbon, for "best puppy," +from Judge Symonds' own gnarled hand. + +Then came the other classes for collies--"Novice," "Open," "Limit," +"Local," "American Bred." And as Bruce paced majestically out of the +ring at last, he was the possessor of five more blue ribbons--as well +as the blue Winner's rosette, for "best collie in the show." + +"Great dog you've got there, madam!" commented Symonds in solemn +approval as he handed the Winner's rosette to the Mistress. "Fine dog +in every way. Fine promise. He will go far. One of the best types +I've--" + +"Do you really think so?" sweetly replied the Mistress. "Why, one of +the foremost collie judges in America has gone on record as calling him +a 'measly St. Bernard monstrosity.'" + +"No?" snorted Symonds, incredulous. "You don't say so! A judge who +would speak so, of that dog, doesn't understand his business. He--" + +"Oh, yes, he does!" contradicted the Mistress, glancing lovingly at her +handful of blue ribbons. "I think he understands his business very well +indeed--NOW!" + + + +CHAPTER III. The War Dog + +The guest had decided to wait until next morning, before leaving The +Place, instead of following his first plan of taking a night train to +New York. He was a captain in our regular army and had newly come back +from France to forget an assortment of shrapnel-bites and to teach +practical tactics to rookies. + +He reached his decision to remain over night at The Place while he and +the Mistress and the Master were sitting on the vine-hung west veranda +after dinner, watching the flood of sunset change the lake to molten +gold and the sky to pink fire. It would be pleasant to steal another +few hours at this back-country House of Peace before returning to the +humdrum duties of camp. And the guest yielded to the temptation. + +"I'm mighty glad you can stay over till morning," said the Master. +"I'll send word to Roberts not to bring up the car." + +As he spoke, he scrawled a penciled line on an envelope-back; then he +whistled. + +From a cool lounging-place beneath the wistaria-vines arose a huge +collie--stately of form, dark brown and white of coat, deep-set of eye +and with a head that somehow reminded one of a Landseer engraving. The +collie trotted up the steps of the veranda and stood expectant before +the Master. The latter had been folding the envelope lengthwise. Now he +slipped it through the ring in the dog's collar. + +"Give it to Roberts," he said. + +The big collie turned and set off at a hand-gallop. + +"Good!" approved the guest. "Bruce didn't seem to be in any doubt as to +what you wanted him to do. He knows where Roberts is likely to be?" + +"No," said the Master. "But he can track him and find him, if Roberts +is anywhere within a mile or so from here. That was one of the first +things we taught him--to carry messages. All we do is to slip the paper +into his collar-ring and tell him the name of the person to take it to. +Naturally, he knows us all by name. So it is easy enough for him to do +it. We look on the trick as tremendously clever. But that's because we +love Bruce. Almost any dog can be taught to do it, I suppose. We--" + +"You're mistaken!" corrected the guest. "Almost any dog CAN'T be taught +to. Some dogs can, of course; but they are the exception. I ought to +know, for I've been where dog-couriers are a decidedly important +feature of trench-warfare. I stopped at one of the dog-training schools +in England, too, on my way back from Picardy, and watched the teaching +of the dogs that are sent to France and Flanders. Not one in ten can be +trained to carry messages; and not one in thirty can be counted on to +do it reliably. You ought to be proud of Bruce." + +"We are," replied the Mistress. "He is one of the family. We think +everything of him. He was such a stupid and awkward puppy, too! Then, +in just a few months, he shaped up, as he is now. And his brain woke." + +Bruce interrupted the talk by reappearing on the veranda. The folded +envelope was still in the ring on his collar. The guest glanced +furtively at the Master, expecting some sign of chagrin at the collie's +failure. + +Instead, the Master took the envelope, unfolded it and glanced at a +word or two that had been written beneath his own scrawl; then he made +another penciled addition to the envelope's writing, stuck the twisted +paper back into the ring and said-- + +"Roberts." + +Off trotted Bruce on his second trip. + +"I had forgotten to say which train you'll have to take in the +morning," explained the Master. "So Roberts wrote, asking what time he +was to have the car at the door after breakfast. It was careless of me." + +The guest did not answer. But when Bruce presently returned,--this time +with no paper in his collar-ring,--the officer passed his hand +appraisingly through the dog's heavy coat and looked keenly down into +his dark eyes. + +"Gun-shy?" asked the guest. "Or perhaps he's never heard a gun fired?" + +"He's heard hundreds of guns fired," said the Master. "I never allow a +gun to be fired on The Place, of course, because we've made it a bird +refuge. But Bruce went with us in the car to the testing of the Lewis +machineguns, up at Haskell. They made a most ungodly racket. But +somehow it didn't seem to bother the Big Dog at all." + +"H'm!" mused the guest, his professional interest vehemently roused. +"He would be worth a fortune over there. There are a lot of collies in +the service, in one capacity or another--almost as many as the +Airedales and the police dogs. And they are doing grand work. But I +never saw one that was better fitted for it than Bruce. It's a pity he +lives on the wrong side of the Atlantic. He could do his bit, to more +effect than the average human. There are hundreds of thousands of men +for the ranks, but pitifully few perfect courier-dogs." + +The Mistress was listening with a tensity which momentarily grew more +painful. The Master's forehead, too, was creased with a new thought +that seemed to hurt him. To break the brief silence that followed the +guest's words, he asked: + +"Are the dogs, over there, really doing such great work as the papers +say they are? I read, the other day--" + +"'Great work!'" repeated the guest. "I should say so. Not only in +finding the wounded and acting as guards on listening posts, and all +that, but most of all as couriers. There are plenty of times when the +wireless can't be used for sending messages from one point to another, +and where there is no telephone connection, and where the firing is too +hot for a human courier to get through. That is where is the war dogs +have proved their weight in radium. Collies, mostly. There are a +million true stories of their prowess told, at camp-fires. Here are +just two such incidents--both of them on record, by the way, at the +British War Office + +"A collie, down near Soissons, was sent across a bad strip of +fire-scourged ground, with a message. A boche sharpshooter fired at him +and shattered his jaw. The dog kept on, in horrible agony, and +delivered the message. Another collie was sent over a still hotter and +much longer stretch of territory with a message. (That was during the +Somme drive of 1916.) He was shot at, a dozen times, as he ran. At last +two bullets got him. He fell over, mortally wounded. He scrambled to +his feet and kept on falling, stumbling, staggering--till he got to his +destination. Then he dropped dead at the side of the Colonel the +message had been sent to. And those are only two of thousands of true +collie-anecdotes. Yet some fools are trying to get American dogs done +away with, as 'non-utilitarian,' while the war lasts! As if the dogs in +France, today, weren't earning their overseas brothers' right to +live--and live well!" + +Neither of his hearers made reply when the guest finished his earnest, +eager recital. Neither of them had paid much heed to his final words. +For the Master and the Mistress were looking at each other in mute +unhappiness. The same miserable thought was in the mind of each. And +each knew the thought that was torturing the mind of the other. + +Presently, at a glint of inquiry in the Master's eye, the Mistress +suddenly bent over and buried her face in the deep mass of Bruce's ruff +as the dog stood lovingly beside her. Then, still stroking the collie's +silken head, she returned her husband's wretchedly questioning glance +with a resigned little nod. The Master cleared his throat noisily +before he could speak with the calm indifference he sought. Then, +turning to the apparently unnoticing guest, he said-- + +"I think I told you I tried to get across to France at the very +start--and I was barred because I am past forty and because I have a +bum heart and several other defects that a soldier isn't supposed to +have. My wife and I have tried to do what little we can for the Cause, +on this side of the ocean. But it has seemed woefully little, when we +remember what others are doing. And we have no son we can send." + +Again he cleared his throat and went on with sulky ungraciousness: + +"We both know what you've been driving at for the past five minutes. +And--and we agree. Bruce can go." + +"Great!" applauded the guest. "That's fine! He'll be worth his--" + +"If you think we're a couple of fools for not doing this more +willingly," went on the Master with savage earnestness, "just stop to +think what it means to a man to give up the dog he loves. Not to give +him up to some one who will assure him a good home, but to send him +over into that hell, where a German bullet or a shell-fragment or +hunger or disease is certain to get him, soon or late. To think of him +lying smashed and helpless, somewhere in No Man's Land, waiting for +death; or caught by the enemy and eaten! (The Red Cross bulletin says +no less than eight thousand dogs were eaten, in Saxony alone, in 1913, +the year BEFORE the war began.) Or else to be captured and then cut up +by some German vivisector-surgeon in the sacred interests of Science! +Oh, we can bring ourselves to send Bruce over there! But don't expect +us to do it with a good grace. For we can't." + +"I--" began the embarrassed guest; but the Mistress chimed in, her +sweet voice not quite steady. + +"You see, Captain, we've made such a pet--such a baby--of Bruce! All +his life he has lived here--here where he had the woods to wander in +and the lake to swim in, and this house for his home. He will be so +unhappy and--Well, don't let's talk about that! When I think of the +people who give their sons and everything they have, to the country, I +feel ashamed of not being more willing to let a mere dog go. But then +Bruce is not just a 'mere dog.' He is--he is BRUCE. All I ask is that +if he is injured and not killed, you'll arrange to have him sent back +here to us. We'll pay for it, of course. And will you write to whomever +you happen to know, at that dog-training school in England, and ask +that Bruce be treated nicely while he is training there? He's never +been whipped. He's never needed it, you see." + + +The Mistress might have spared herself much worry as to Bruce's +treatment in the training school to which he was consigned. It was not +a place of cruelty, but of development. And when, out of the thousands +of dogs sent there, the corps of trainers found one with promise of +strong ability, such a pupil was handled with all the care and +gentleness and skill that a temperamental prima donna might expect. + +Such a dog was the big American collie, debarked from a goods car at +the training camp railway station, six weeks after the Mistress and the +Master had consented to his enlistment. And the handlers treated him +accordingly. + +The Master himself had taken Bruce to the transport, in Brooklyn, and +had led him aboard the overfull ship. The new sights and sounds around +him interested the home-bred collie. But when the Master turned him +over to the officer in whose charge he was to be for the voyage, +Bruce's deep-set eyes clouded with a sudden heartsick foreboding. + +Wrenching himself free from the friendly hand on his collar, he sprang +in pursuit of his departing deity,--the loved Master who was leaving +him alone and desolate among all these strange scenes and noises. The +Master, plodding, sullen and heavy-hearted, toward the gangway, was +aware of a cold nose thrust into his dejected hand. + +Looking down he beheld Bruce staring up at him with a world of stark +appeal in his troubled gaze. The Master swallowed hard; then laid his +hand on the beautiful head pressed so confidingly against his knee. +Turning, he led the dog back to the quarters assigned to him. + +"Stay here, old friend!" he commanded, huskily. "It's all right. You'll +make good. I know that. And there's a chance in a billion that you'll +come back to us. I'm--I'm not deserting you. And I guess there's +precious little danger that any one on The Place will ever forget you. +It's--it's all right. Millions of humans are doing it. I'd give +everything I've got, if I could go, too. IT'S ALL RIGHT!" + +Then Bruce understood at last that he was to stay in this place of +abominations, far from everything he loved; and that he must do so +because the Master ordained it. He made no further effort to break away +and to follow his god ashore. But he shivered convulsively from head to +foot; and his desolate gaze continued to trace the Master's receding +figure out of sight. Then, with a long sigh, he lay down, heavily, his +head between his white forepaws, and resigned himself to whatever of +future misery his deities might have ordained for him. + +Ensued a fortnight of mental and bodily anguish, as the inland-reared +dog tasted the horrors of a voyage in a rolling ship, through heaving +seas. Afterward, came the landing at a British port and the train ride +to the camp which was to be his home for the next three months. + +Bruce's sense of smell told him the camp contained more dogs than ever +he had beheld in all his brief life put together. But his hearing would +have led him to believe there were not a dozen other dogs within a mile +of him. + +From the encampment arose none of the rackety barking which betokens +the presence of many canines, and which deafens visitors to a dog-show. + +One of the camp's first and most stringent rules forbade barking, +except under special order. These dogs--or the pick of them--were +destined for work at the front. The bark of a dog has a carrying +quality greater than the combined shouting of ten men. It is the last +sound to follow a balloonist, after he has risen above the reach of all +other earth-noises. + +Hence, a chance bark, rising through the night to where some enemy +airman soared with engines turned off, might well lead to the bombing +of hitherto unlocated trenches or detachment-camps. For this and divers +other reasons, the first lesson taught to arriving wardogs was to +abstain from barking. + +The dogs were divided, roughly, by breeds, as regarded the line of +training assigned to them. The collies were taught courier-work. The +Airedales, too,--hideous, cruel, snake-headed,--were used as couriers, +as well as to bear Red Cross supplies and to hunt for the wounded. The +gaunt and wolflike police dogs were pressed into the two latter tasks, +and were taught listening-post duty. And so on through all available +breeds,--including the stolidly wise Old English sheepdogs who were to +prove invaluable in finding and succoring and reporting the +wounded,--down to the humble terriers and mongrels who were taught to +rid trenches of vermin. + +Everywhere was quiet efficiency and tirelessly patient and skillful +work on the part of the trainers. For Britain's best dog men had been +recruited for service here. On the perfection of their charges' +training might depend the fate of many thousand gallant soldiers. +Wherefore, the training was perfect. + +Hundreds of dogs proved stupid or unreliable or gun-shy or too easily +confused in moments of stress. These were weeded out, continually, and +shipped back to the masters who had proffered them. + +Others developed with amazing speed and cleverness, grasping their +profession as could few human soldiers. And Bruce, lonely and +heartsore, yet throwing himself into his labors with all the zest of +the best thoroughbred type,--was one of this group. + +His early teachings now stood him in good stead. What once had been a +jolly game, for his own amusement and that of the Mistress and the +Master, was now his life-work. Steadily his trainer wrought over him, +bringing out latent abilities that would have dumfounded his earliest +teachers, steadying and directing the gayly dashing intelligence; +upbuilding and rounding out all his native gifts. + +A dog of Bruce's rare type made up to the trainers for the dullness of +their average pupils. He learned with bewildering ease. He never forgot +a lesson once taught. + +No, the Mistress need not have interceded to save him from beating. As +soon would an impresario think of thrashing Caruso or Paderewski as +would Bruce's glum Scottish trainer have laid whip to this best pupil +of his. Life was bare and strict for Bruce. But life was never unkind +to him, in these first months of exile from The Place. And, bit by bit, +he began to take a joy in his work. + +Not for a day,--perhaps not for an hour, did the big collie forget the +home of his babyhood or those he had delighted to worship, there. And +the look of sadness in his dark eyes became a settled aspect. Yet, +here, there was much to interest and to excite him. And he grew to look +forward with pleasure to his daily lessons. + +At the end of three months, he was shipped to France. There his +seemingly aimless studies at the training camp were put to active use. + + * * * * * + +At the foot of the long Flanders hill-slope the "Here-We-Come" +Regiment, of mixed American and French infantry, held a +caterpillar-shaped line of trenches. + +To the right, a few hundred yards away, was posted a Lancashire +regiment, supported by a battalion from Cornwall. On the left were two +French regiments. In front, facing the hill-slope and not a half-mile +distant, was the geometric arrangement of sandbags that marked the +contour of the German first-line trenches. + +The hill behind them, the boches in front of them, French and British +troops on either side of them--the Here-We-Comes were helping to defend +what was known as a "quiet" sector. Behind the hill, and on loftier +heights far to the rear, the Allied artillery was posted. Somewhere in +the same general locality lay a division of British reserves. + +It is almost a waste of words to have described thus the surroundings +of the Here-We-Comes. For, with no warning at all, those entire +surroundings were about to be changed. + +Ludendorff and his little playmates were just then engaged in the +congenial sport of delivering unexpected blows at various successive +points of the Allied line, in an effort to find some spot that was soft +enough to cave in under the impact and let through a horde of gray-clad +Huns. And though none of the defenders knew it, this "quiet" sector had +been chosen for such a minor blow. + +The men in higher command, back there behind the hill crest, had a +belated inkling, though, of a proposed attack on the lightly defended +front trenches. For the Allied airplanes which drifted in the upper +heavens like a scattered handful of dragon-flies were not drifting +there aimlessly. They were the eyes of the snakelike columns that +crawled so blindly on the scarred brown surface of the earth. And those +"eyes" had discerned the massing of a force behind the German line had +discerned and had duly reported it. + +The attack might come in a day. It might not come in a week. But it was +coming--unless the behind-the-lines preparations were a gigantic feint. + +A quiet dawn, in the quiet trenches of the quiet sector. Desultory +artillery and somewhat less desultory sniping had prevailed throughout +the night, and at daybreak; but nothing out of the ordinary. + +Two men on listening-post had been shot; and so had an overcurious +sentry who peeped just an inch too far above a parapet. A shell had +burst in a trench, knocking the telephone connection out of gear and +half burying a squad of sleepers under a lot of earth. Otherwise, +things were drowsily dull. + +In a dugout sprawled Top-Sergeant Mahan,--formerly of Uncle Sam's +regular army, playing an uninspiring game of poker with Sergeant Dale +of his company and Sergeant Vivier of the French infantry. The +Frenchman was slow in learning poker's mysteries. + +And, anyway, all three men were temporarily penniless and were forced +to play for I.O.U's--which is stupid sport, at best. + +So when, from the German line, came a quick sputt-sputt-sputt from a +half-dozen sharpshooters' rifles, all three men looked up from their +desultory game in real interest. Mahan got to his feet with a grunt. + +"Some other fool has been trying to see how far he can rubber above the +sandbags without drawing boche fire," he hazarded, starting out to +investigate. "It's a miracle to me how a boche bullet can go through +heads that are so full of first-quality ivory as those rubberers'." + +But Mahan's strictures were quite unwarranted. The sharpshooters were +not firing at the parapet. Their scattering shots were flying high, and +hitting against the slope of the hill behind the trenches. + +Adown this shell-pocked hillside, as Mahan and the other disturbed +idlers gazed, came cantering a huge dark-brown-and-white collie. The +morning wind stirred the black stippling that edged his tawny fur, +showing the gold-gray undercoat beneath it. His white chest was like a +snowdrift, and offered a fine mark for the German rifles. A bullet or +two sang whiningly past his gayly up-flung head. + +A hundred voices from the Here-We-Come trenches hailed the advancing +dog. + +"Why, it's Bruce!" cried Mahan in glad welcome. "I might 'a' known he +or another of the collies would be along. I might 'a' known it, when +the telephones went out of commission. He--" + +"Regardez-donc!" interrupted the admiring Vivier. "He acts like bullets +was made of flies! Mooch he care for boche lead-pills, ce brave vieux!" + +"Yes," growled Dale worriedly; "and one of these days a bullet will +find its way into that splendid carcass of his. He's been shot at, a +thousand times, to my own knowledge. And all I ask is a chance, with a +rifle-butt, at the skull of the Hun who downs him!" + +"Downs Bruce?" queried Vivier in fine scorn. "The boche he is no borned +who can do it. Bruce has what you call it, in Ainglish, the 'charm +life.' He go safe, where other caniche be pepper-potted full of holes. +I've watch heem. I know." + +Unscathed by the several shots that whined past him, Bruce came to a +halt at the edge of a traverse. There he stood, wagging his plume of a +tail in grave friendliness, while a score of khaki-clad arms reached up +to lift him bodily into the trench. + +A sergeant unfastened the message from the dog's collar and posted off +to the colonel with it. + +The message was similar to one which had been telephoned to each of the +supporting bodies, to right and to left of the Here-We-Comes. It bade +the colonel prepare to withdraw his command from the front trenches at +nightfall, and to move back on the main force behind the hill-crest. +The front trenches were not important; and they were far too lightly +manned to resist a mass attack. Wherefore the drawing-in and +consolidating of the whole outflung line. + +Bruce, his work done now, had leisure to respond to the countless +offers of hospitality that encompassed him. One man brought him a slice +of cold broiled bacon. Another spread pork-grease over a bit of bread +and proffered it. A third unearthed from some sacredly guarded +hiding-place an excessively stale half-inch square of sweet chocolate. + +Had the dog so chosen, he might then and there have eaten himself to +death on the multitude of votive offerings. But in a few minutes he had +had enough, and he merely sniffed in polite refusal at all further +gifts. + +"See?" lectured Mahan. "That's the beast of it! When you say a fellow +eats or drinks 'like a beast,' you ought to remember that a beast won't +eat or drink a mouthful more than is good for him." + +"Gee!" commented the somewhat corpulent Dale. "I'm glad I'm not a +beast--especially on pay-day." + +Presently Bruce tired of the ovation tendered him. These ovations were +getting to be an old story. They had begun as far back as his +training-camp days--when the story of his joining the army was told by +the man to whom The Place's guest had written commending the dog to the +trainers' kindness. + +At the training-camp this story had been reenforced by the chief +collie-teacher--a dour little Hieland Scot named McQuibigaskie, who on +the first day declared that the American dog had more sense and more +promise and more soul "than a' t'other tykes south o' Kirkcudbright +Brae." + +Being only mortal, Bruce found it pleasanter to be admired and petted +than ignored or kicked. He was impersonally friendly with the soldiers, +when he was off duty; and he relished the dainties they were forever +thrusting at him. + +But at times his soft eyes would grow dark with homesickness for the +quiet loveliness of The Place and for the Mistress and the Master who +were his loyally worshiped gods. Life had been so happy and so sweetly +uneventful for him, at The Place! And there had been none of the awful +endless thunder and the bewilderingly horrible smells and gruesome +sights which here met him at every turn. + +The dog's loving heart used to grow sick with it all; and he longed +unspeakably for home. But he was a gallant soldier, and he did his work +not only well, but with a snap and a dash and an almost uncanny +intelligence which made him an idol to the men. + +Presently, now, having eaten all he wanted and having been patted and +talked to until he craved solitude, Bruce strolled ever to an empty +dugout, curled up on a torn blanket there, put his nose between his +white paws and went to sleep. + +The German artillery-fire had swelled from an occasional explosion to a +ceaseless roar, that made the ground vibrate and heave, and that beat +on the eardrums with nauseating iterance. But it did not bother Bruce. +For months he had been used to this sort of annoyance, and he had +learned to sleep snugly through it all. + +Meanwhile, outside his dugout, life was speeding up at a dizzying rate. +The German artillery had sprung to sudden and wholesale activity. Far +to the right of the Here-We-Come regiment's trenches a haze had begun +to crawl along the ground and to send snaky tendrils high in +air-tendrils that blended into a single grayish-green wall as they +moved forward. The hazewall's gray-green was shot by yellow and purple +tinges as the sun's weak rays touched it. To the left of the +Here-We-Comes, and then in front of them, appeared the same wall of +billowing gas. + +The Here-We-Comes were ready for it with their hastily donned masks. +But there was no need of the precaution. By one of the sudden +wind--freaks so common in the story of the war, the gas-cloud was cleft +in two by a swirling breeze, and it rolled dankly on, to right and +left, leaving the central trenches clear. + +Now, an artillery barrage, accompanied or followed by a +gas-demonstration, can mean but one thing: a general attack. Therefore +telephonic word came to the detachments to left and right of the +Here-We-Comes, to fall back, under cover of the gas-cloud, to safer +positions. Two dogs were sent, with the same order, to the +Here-We-Comes. (One of the dogs was gassed. A bit of shrapnel found the +other.) + +Thus it was that the Here-We-Comes were left alone (though they did not +know it), to hold the position,--with no support on either side, and +with a mere handful of men wherewith to stem the impending rush. + +On the heels of the dispersing gas-cloud, and straight across the +half-mile or less of broken ground, came a line of gray. In five +successive waves, according to custom, the boches charged. Each wave +hurled itself forward as fast as efficiency would let it, in face of +the opposing fire, and as far as human endurance would be goaded. Then +it went down, and its survivors attached themselves to the succeeding +wave. + +Hence, by the time the fifth and mightiest wave got into motion, it was +swelled by the survivors of all four of its predecessors and was an +all-but-resistless mass of shouting and running men. + +The rifles and machine-guns of the Here-We-Comes played merrily into +the advancing gray swarms, stopping wave after wave, and at last +checking the fifth and "master" wave almost at the very brink of the +Franco-American parapet. + +"That's how they do!" Mahan pantingly explained to a rather shaky +newcomer, as the last wave fell back. "They count on numbers and +bullrushes to get them there. If they'd had ten thousand men, in that +rush, instead of five thousand, they'd have got us. And if they had +twice as many men in their whole army as they have, they'd win this +war. But praise be, they haven't twice as many! That is one of the +fifty-seven reasons why the Allies are going to lick Germany." + +Mahan talked jubilantly. The same jubilation ran all along the line of +victors. But the colonel and his staff were not rejoicing. They had +just learned of the withdrawal of the forces to either side of them, +and they knew they themselves could not hope to stand against a second +and larger charge. + +Such a charge the enemy were certain to make. The Germans, too, must +soon learn of the defection of the supports. It was now only a question +of an hour or less before a charge with a double-enveloping movement +would surround and bag the Here-We-Comes, catching the whole regiment +in an inescapable trap. + +To fall back, now, up that long bare hillside, under full fire of the +augmented German artillery, would mean a decimating of the entire +command. The Here-We-Comes could not retreat. They could not hope to +hold their ground. The sole chance for life lay in the arrival of +strong reenforcements from the rear, to help them hold the trenches +until night, or to man the supporting positions. Reserves were within +easy striking distance. But, as happened so many times in the war, +there was no routine way to summon them in time. + +It was the chance sight of a crumpled message lying on his dugout-table +that reminded the colonel of Bruce's existence and of his presence in +the front trench. It was a matter of thirty seconds for the colonel to +scrawl an urgent appeal and a brief statement of conditions. Almost as +soon as the note was ready, an orderly appeared at the dugout entrance, +convoying the newly awakened Bruce. + +The all-important message was fastened in place. The colonel himself +went to the edge of the traverse, and with his own arms lifted the +eighty-pound collie to the top. + +There was tenderness as well as strength in the lifting arms. As he set +Bruce down on the brink, the colonel said, as if speaking to a +fellow-human: + +"I hate to do it, old chap. I HATE to! There isn't one chance in three +of your getting all the way up the hill alive. But there wouldn't be +one chance in a hundred, for a MAN. The boches will be on the lookout +for just this move. And their best sharpshooters will be waiting for +you--even if you dodge the shrapnel and the rest of the artillery. I'm +sorry! And--good-by." + +Then, tersely, he rasped out the command-- + +"Bruce! Headquarters! Headquarters! QUICK!" + +At a bound, the dog was gone. + +Breasting the rise of the hill, Bruce set off at a sweeping run, his +tawny-and-white mane flying in the wind. + +A thousand eyes, from the Here-We-Come trenches, watched his flight. +And as many eyes from the German lines saw the huge collie's dash up +the coverless slope. + +Scarce had Bruce gotten fairly into his stride when the boche bullets +began to sing--not a desultory little flurry of shots, as before; but +by the score, and with a murderous earnestness. When he had appeared, +on his way to the trenches, an hour earlier, the Germans had opened +fire on him, merely for their own amusement--upon the same merry +principle which always led them to shoot at an Ally war-dog. But now +they understood his all-important mission; and they strove with their +best skill to thwart it. + +The colonel of the Here-We-Comes drew his breath sharply between his +teeth. He did not regret the sending of the collie. It had been a move +of stark military necessity. And there was an off chance that it might +mean the saving of his whole command. + +But the colonel was fond of Bruce, and it angered him to hear the +frantic effort of the boche marksmen to down so magnificent a creature. +The bullets were spraying all about the galloping dog, kicking up tiny +swirls of dust at his heels and in front of him and to either side. + +Mahan, watching, with streaming eyes and blaspheming lips, recalled the +French sergeant's theory that Bruce bore a charmed life. And he prayed +that Vivier might be right. But in his prayer was very little faith. +For under such a fusillade it seemed impossible that at least one +highpower bullet should not reach the collie before the slope could be +traversed. A fast-running dog is not an easy mark for a +bullet--especially if the dog be a collie, with a trace of +wolf--ancestry in his gait. A dog, at best, does not gallop straight +ahead as does a horse. There is almost always a sidewise lilt to his +run. + +Bruce was still further aided by the shell-plowed condition of the +hillside. Again and again he had to break his stride, to leap some +shell-hole. Often he had to encircle such holes. More than once he +bounded headlong down into a gaping crater and scrambled up its far +side. These erratic moves, and the nine-hundred-yard distance (a +distance that was widening at every second) made the sharpshooters' +task anything but an exact science. + +Mahan's gaze followed the dog's every step. Bruce had cleared more than +three-fourths of the slope. The top-sergeant permitted himself the +luxury of a broad grin. + +"I'll buy Vivier all the red-ink wine he can gargle, next pay-day!" he +vowed. "He was dead right about the dog. No bullet was ever molded that +can get--" + +Mahan broke off in his exultation, with an explosive oath, as a new +note in the firing smote upon his trained hearing. + +"The swine!" he roared. "The filthy, unsportsmanly, dog-eating Prussian +swine! They're turning MACHINE-GUNS on him!" + +In place of the intermittent rattle of rifleshots now came the purring +cough of rapidfire guns. The bullets hit the upper hillside in swathes, +beginning a few yards behind the flying collie and moving upward toward +him like a sweeping of an unseen scythe. + +"That's the wind-up!" groaned Mahan. "Lord, send me an even break +against one of those Hun machinegunners some day! If--" + +Again Mahan failed to finish his train of thought. He stared +open-mouthed up the hill. Almost at the very summit, within a rod or +two of the point where the crest would intervene between him and his +foes, Bruce whirled in mid-air and fell prone. + +The fast-following swaths of machine-gun bullets had not reached him. +But another German enemy had. From behind a heap of offal, on the +crest, a yellow-gray dog had sprung, and had launched himself bodily +upon Bruce's flank as the unnoticing collie had flashed past him. + +The assailant was an enormous and hyena-like German police-dog. He was +one of the many of his breed that were employed (for work or food) in +the German camps, and which used to sneak away from their hard-kicking +soldier-owners to ply a more congenial trade as scavengers, and as +seekers for the dead. For, in traits as well as in looks, the +police-dog often emulates the ghoulish hyena. + +Seeing the approaching collie (always inveterate foe of his kind), the +police-dog had gauged the distance and had launched his surprise attack +with true Teuton sportsmanship and efficiency. Down went Bruce under +the fierce weight that crashed against his shoulder. But before the +other could gain his coveted throat-grip, Bruce was up again. Like a +furry whirlwind he was at the police-dog, fighting more like a wolf +than a civilized collie--tearing into his opponent with a maniac rage, +snapping, slashing; his glittering white fangs driving at a dozen +vulnerable points in a single second. + +It was as though Bruce knew he had no time to waste from his +life-and-death mission. He could not elude this enemy, so he must +finish him as quickly as possible. + +"Give me your rifle!" sputtered Mahan to the soldier nearest him. "I'll +take one potshot at that Prussian cur, before the machine-guns get the +two of 'em. Even if I hit Bruce by mistake, he'd rather die by a +Christian Yankee-made bullet than--" + +Just then the scythelike machine-gun fire reached the hillcrest +combatants. And in the same instant a shell smote the ground, +apparently between them. Up went a geyser of smoke and dirt and rocks. +When the cloud settled, there was a deep gully in the ground where a +moment earlier Bruce and the police-dog had waged their death-battle. + +"That settles it!" muttered the colonel. + +And he went to make ready for such puny defense as his men might hope +to put up against the German rush. + +While these futile preparations were still under way, terrific +artillery fire burst from the Allied batteries behind the hill, +shielding the Here-We-Come trenches with a curtain of fire whose lower +folds draped themselves right unlovingly around the German lines. Under +cover of this barrage, down the hill swarmed the Allied reserves! + +"How did you get word?" demanded the astonished colonel of the +Here-We-Comes, later in the day. + +"From your note, of course," replied the general he had questioned. +"The collie--old Bruce." + +"Bruce?" babbled the colonel foolishly. + +"Of course," answered the general. "Who else? But I'm afraid it's the +last message he'll ever deliver. He came rolling and staggering up to +headquarters--one mass of blood, and three inches thick with caked +dirt. His right side was torn open from a shell-wound, and he had two +machine-gun bullets in his shoulder. He's deaf as a post, too, from +shell-shock. He tumbled over in a heap on the steps of headquarters. +But he GOT there. That's Bruce, all over. That's the best type of +collie, all over. Some of us were for putting him out of his misery +with a shot through the head. We'd have done it, too, if it had been +any other dog. But the surgeon-general waded in and took a hand in the +game--carried Bruce to his own quarters. We left him working over the +dog himself. And he swears Bruce will pull through!" + + + +CHAPTER IV. When Eyes Were No Use + +"Yes, it's an easy enough trade to pick up," lectured Top-Sergeant +Mahan, formerly of the regular army. "You've just got to remember a few +things. But you've got to keep on remembering those few, all the time. +If you forget one of 'em, it's the last bit of forgetting you're ever +likely to do." + +Top-Sergeant Mahan, of the mixed French-and-American regiment known as +"Here-We-Come," was squatting at ease on the trench firing-step. From +that professorial seat he was dispensing useful knowledge to a group of +fellow-countrymen-newly arrived from the base, to pad the +"Here-We-Come" ranks, which had been thinned at the Rache attack. + +"What sort of things have we got to remember, Sergeant?" jauntily asked +a lanky Missourian. "We've got the drill pretty pat; and the trench +instructions and--" + +"Gee!" ejaculated Mahan. "I had no idea of that! Then why don't you +walk straight ahead into Berlin? If you know all you say you do, about +war, there's nothing more for you to learn. I'll drop a line to General +Foch and suggest to him that you rookies be detailed to teach the game +to us oldsters." + +"I didn't mean to be fresh," apologized the jaunty one. "Won't you go +ahead and tell us the things we need to remember?" + +"Well," exhorted Mahan, appeased by the newcomer's humility, "there +aren't so many of them, after all. Learn to duck, when you hear a +Minnie grunt or a whizzbang cut loose; or a five-nine begin to whimper. +Learn not to bother to duck when the rifles get to jabbering--for +you'll never hear the bullet that gets you. Study the nocturnal habits +of machine-guns and the ways of snipers and the right time not to play +the fool. And keep saying to yourself: 'The bullet ain't molded that +can get ME!' Mean it when you say it. When you've learned those few +things, the rest of the war-game is dead easy." + +"Except," timidly amended old Sergeant Vivier, the gray little +Frenchman, "except when eyes are--are what you call it, no use." +"That's right," assented Mahan. "In the times when eyes are no use, all +rules fail. And then the only thing you can do is to trust to your +Yankee luck. I remember--" + +"'When eyes are no use'?" repeated the recruit. "If you mean after +dark, at night--haven't we got the searchlights and the starshells and +all that?" + +"Son," replied Mahan, "we have. Though I don't see how you ever guessed +such an important secret. But since you know everything, maybe you'll +just kindly tell us what good all the lights in the world are going to +do us when the filthy yellow-gray fog begins to ooze up out of the mud +and the shell-holes, and the filthy gray mist oozes down from the +clouds to meet it. Fog is the one thing that all the war-science won't +overcome. A fogpenetrator hasn't been invented yet. If it had been, +there'd be many a husky lad living today, who has gone West, this past +few years, on account of the fogs. Fog is the boche's pet. It gives +Fritzy a lovely chance to creep up or, us. It--" + +"It is the helper of US, too," suggested old Vivier. "More than one +time, it has kept me safe when I was on patrol. And did it not help to +save us at Rache, when--" + +"The fog may have helped us, one per cent, at Rache," admitted Mahan. +"But Bruce did ninety-nine per cent of the saving." + +"A Scotch general?" asked the recruit, as Vivier nodded cordial +affirmation of Mahan's words, and as others of the old-timers muttered +approval. + +"No," contradicted Mahan. "A Scotch collie. If you were dry behind the +ears, in this life, you wouldn't have to ask who Bruce is." + +"I don't understand," faltered the rookie, suspicious of a possible +joke. + +"You will soon," Mahan told him. "Bruce will be here to-day. I heard +the K.O. saying the big dog is going to be sent down with some +dispatches or something, from headquarters. It's his first trip since +he was cut up so." + +"I am saving him--this!" proclaimed Vivier, disgorging from the flotsam +of his pocket a lump of once-white sugar. "My wife, she smuggle three +of these to me in her last paquet. One I eat in my cafe noir; one I +present to mon cher vieux, ce bon Mahan; one I keep for the grand dog +what save us all that day." + +"What's the idea?" queried the mystified rookie. "I don't--" + +"We were stuck in the front line of the Rache salient," explained +Mahan, eager to recount his dog-friend's prowess. "On both sides our +supports got word to fall back. We couldn't get the word, because our +telephone connection was knocked galley-west. There we were, waiting +for a Hun attack to wipe us out. We couldn't fall back, for they were +peppering the hillslope behind us. We were at the bottom. They'd have +cut us to ribbons if we'd shown our carcasses in the open. Bruce was +here, with a message he'd brought. The K.O. sent him back to +headquarters for the reserves. The boche heavies and snipers and +machine-guns all cut loose to stop him as he scooted up the hill. And a +measly giant of a German police dog tried to kill him, too. Bruce got +through the lot of them; and he reached headquarters with the SOS call +that saved us. The poor chap was cut and gouged and torn by bullets and +shell-scraps, and he was nearly dead from shell-shock, too. But the +surgeon general worked over him, himself, and pulled him back to life. +He--" + +"He is a loved pet of a man and a woman in your America, I have heard +one say," chimed in Vivier. "And his home, there, was in the quiet +country. He was lent to the cause, as a patriotic offering, ce brave! +And of a certainty, he has earned his welcome." + +When Bruce, an hour later, trotted into the trenches, on the way to the +"Here-We-Come" colonel's quarters, he was received like a visiting +potentate. Dozens of men hailed him eagerly by name as he made his way +to his destination with the message affixed to his collar. + +Many of these men were his well-remembered friends and comrades. Mahan +and Vivier, and one or two more, he had grown to like--as well as he +could like any one in that land of horrors, three thousand miles away +from The Place, where he was born, and from the Mistress and the +Master, who were his loyally worshiped gods. + +Moreover, being only mortal and afflicted with a hearty appetite, Bruce +loved the food and other delicacies the men were forever offering him +as a variation on the stodgy fare dished out to him and his fellow +war-dogs. + +As much to amuse and interest the soldiers whose hero he was, as for +any special importance in the dispatch he carried, Bruce had been sent +now to the trenches of the Here-We-Comes. It was his first visit to the +regiment he had saved, since the days of the Rache assault two months +earlier. Thanks to supremely clever surgery and to tender care, the dog +was little the worse for his wounds. His hearing gradually had come +back. In one shoulder he had a very slight stiffness which was not a +limp, and a new-healed furrow scarred the left side of his tawny coat. +Otherwise he was as good as new. + +As Bruce trotted toward the group that so recently had been talking of +him, the Missouri recruit watched with interest for the dog's joy at +this reunion with his old friends. Bruce's snowy chest and +black-stippled coat were fluffed out by many recent baths. His splendid +head high and his dark eyes bright, the collie advanced toward the +group. + +Mahan greeted him joyously. Vivier stretched out a hand which displayed +temptingly the long-hoarded lump of sugar. A third man produced, from +nowhere in particular, a large and meat-fringed soup-bone. + +"I wonder which of you he'll come to, first," said the interested +Missourian. + +The question was answered at once, and right humiliatingly. For Bruce +did not falter in his swinging stride as he came abreast of the group. +Not by so much as a second glance did he notice Mahan's hail and the +tempting food. + +As he passed within six inches of the lump of sugar which Vivier was +holding out to him, the dog's silken ears quivered slightly, sure sign +of hard-repressed emotion in a thoroughbred collie,--but he gave no +other manifestation that he knew any one was there. + +"Well, I'll be blessed!" snickered the Missourian in high derision, as +Bruce passed out of sight around an angle of the trench. "So that's the +pup who is such a pal of you fellows, is he? Gee, but it was a treat to +see how tickled he was to meet you again!" + +To the rookie's amazement none of his hearers seemed in the least +chagrined over the dogs chilling disregard of them. Instead, Mahan +actually grunted approbation. + +"He'll be back," prophesied the Sergeant. "Don't you worry. He'll be +back. We ought to have had more sense than try to stop him when he's on +duty. He has better discipline than the rest of us. That's one of very +first things they teach a courier-dog--to pay no attention to anybody, +when he's on dispatch duty. When Bruce has delivered his message to the +K.O., he'll have the right to hunt up his chums. And no one knows it +better'n Bruce himself." + +"It was a sin--a thoughtlessness--of me to hold the sugar at him," said +old Vivier. "Ah, but he is a so good soldier, ce brave Bruce! He look +not to the left nor yet to the right, nor yet to the so-desired +sugar-lump. He keep his head at attention! All but the furry tips of +his ears. Them he has not yet taught to be good soldiers. They tremble, +when he smell the sugar and the good soup-bone. They quiver like the +little leaf. But he keep on. He--" + +There was a scurry of fast-cantering feet. Around the angle of the +trench dashed Bruce. Head erect, soft dark eyes shining with a light of +gay mischief, he galloped up to the grinning Sergeant Vivier and stood. +The dog's great plume of a tail was wagging violently. His tulip ears +were cocked. His whole interest in life was fixed on the precious lump +of sugar which Vivier held out to him. + +From puppyhood, Bruce had adored lump sugar. Even at The Place, sugar +had been a rarity for him, for the Mistress and the Master had known +the damage it can wreak upon a dog's teeth and digestion. Yet, once in +a while, as a special luxury, the Mistress had been wont to give him a +solitary lump of sugar. + +Since his arrival in France, the dog had never seen nor scented such a +thing until now. Yet he did not jump for the gift. He did not try to +snatch it from Vivier. Instead, he waited until the old Frenchman held +it closer toward him, with the invitation: + +"Take it, mon vieux! It is for you." + +Then and then only did Bruce reach daintily forward and grip the grimy +bit of sugar between his mighty jaws. Vivier stroked the collie's head +while Bruce wagged his tail and munched the sugar and blinked +gratefully up at the donor. Mahan looked on, enviously. "A dog's got +forty-two teeth, instead of the thirty-two that us humans have to chew +on," observed the Sergeant. "A vet' told me that once. And sugar is bad +for all forty-two of 'em. Maybe you didn't know that, Monsoo Vivier? +Likely, at this rate, we'll have to chip in before long and buy poor +Brucie a double set of false teeth. Just because you've put his real +ones out of business with lumps of sugar!" + +Vivier looked genuinely concerned at this grim forecast. Bruce wandered +across to the place where the donor of the soup-bone brandished his +offering. Other men, too, were crowding around with gifts. + +Between petting and feeding, the collie spent a busy hour among his +comrades-at-arms. He was to stay with the "Here-We-Comes" until the +following day, and then carry back to headquarters a reconnaissance +report. + +At four o'clock that afternoon the sky was softly blue and the air was +unwontedly clear. By five o'clock a gentle India-summer haze blurred +the world's sharper outlines. By six a blanket-fog rolled in, and the +air was wetly unbreatheable. The fog lay so thick over the soggy earth +that objects ten feet away were invisible. + +"This," commented Sergeant Mahan, "is one of the times I was talking +about this morning--when eyes are no use. This is sure the country for +fogs, in war-time. The cockneys tell me the London fogs aren't a patch +on 'em." + +The "Here-We-Comes" were encamped, for the while, at the edge of a +sector from whence all military importance had recently been removed by +a convulsive twist of a hundred-mile battle-front. In this dull +hole-in-a-corner the new-arrived rivets were in process of welding into +the more veteran structure of the mixed regiment. + +Not a quarter-mile away--across No Man's Land and athwart two barriers +of barbed wire--lay a series of German trenches. Now, in all +probability, and from all outward signs, the occupants of this boche +position consisted only of a regiment or two which had been so badly +cut up, in a foiled drive, as to need a month of non-exciting routine +before going back into more perilous service. + +Yet the commander of the division to which the "Here-We-Comes" were +attached did not trust to probabilities nor to outward signs. He had +been at the front long enough to realize that the only thing likely to +happen was the thing which seemed unlikeliest. And he felt a morbid +curiosity to learn more about the personnel of those dormant German +trenches. + +Wherefore he had sent an order that a handful of the "Here-We-Comes" go +forth into No Man's Land, on the first favorable night, and try to pick +up a boche prisoner or two for questioning-purposes. A scouring of the +doubly wired area between the hostile lines might readily harvest some +solitary sentinel or some other man on special duty, or even the +occupants of a listening-post. And the division commander earnestly +desired to question such prisoner or prisoners. The fog furnished an +ideal night for such an expedition. + +Thus it was that a very young lieutenant and Sergeant Mahan and ten +privates--the lanky Missourian among them--were detailed for the +prisoner-seeking job. At eleven o'clock, they crept over the top, +single file. + +It was a night wherein a hundred searchlights and a million star-flares +would not have made more impression on the density of the fog than +would the striking of a safety match. Yet the twelve reconnoiterers +were instructed to proceed in the cautious manner customary to such +nocturnal expeditions into No Man's Land. They moved forward at the +lieutenant's order, tiptoeing abreast, some twenty feet apart from one +another, and advancing in three-foot strides. At every thirty steps the +entire line was required to halt and to reestablish contact--in other +words, to "dress" on the lieutenant, who was at the extreme right. + +This maneuver was more time-wasting and less simple than its recital +would imply. For in the dark, unaccustomed legs are liable to +miscalculation in the matter of length of stride, even when shell-holes +and other inequalities of ground do not complicate the calculations +still further. And it is hard to maintain a perfectly straight line +when moving forward through choking fog and over scores of obstacles. + +The halts for realignment consumed much time and caused no little +confusion. Nervousness began to encompass the Missouri recruit. He was +as brave as the next man. But there is something creepy about walking +with measured tread through an invisible space, with no sound but the +stealthy pad-pad-pad of equally hesitant footsteps twenty feet away on +either side. The Missourian was grateful for the intervals that brought +the men into mutual contact, as the eerie march continued. + +The first line of barbed wire was cut and passed. Then followed an +endless groping progress across No Man's Land, and several delays, as +one man or another had trouble in finding contact with his neighbor. + +At last the party came to the German wires. The lieutenant had drawn on +a rubber glove. In his gloved hand he grasped a strip of steel which he +held in front of him, like a wand, fanning the air with it. + +As he came to the entanglement, he probed the barbed wire carefully +with his wand, watching for an ensuing spark. For the Germans more than +once had been known to electrify their wires, with fatal results to +luckless prowlers. + +These wires, to-night, were not charged. And, with pliers, the +lieutenant and Mahan started to cut a passageway through them. + +As the very first strand parted under his pressure, Mahan laid one hand +warningly on the lieutenant's sleeve, and then passed the same +prearranged warning down the line to the left. + +Silence--moveless, tense, sharply listening silence--followed his +motion. Then the rest of the party heard the sound which Mahan's keener +ears had caught a moment earlier--the thud of many marching feet. Here +was no furtive creeping, as when the twelve Yankees had moved along. +Rather was it the rhythmic beat of at least a hundred pairs of +shapeless army boots--perhaps of more. The unseen marchers were moving +wordlessly, but with no effort at muffling the even tread of their +multiple feet. + +"They're coming this way!" breathed Sergeant Mahan almost without +sound, his lips close to the excited young lieutenant's ear. "And +they're not fifty paces off. That means they're boches. So near the +German wire, our men would either be crawling or else charging, not +marching! It's a company--maybe a battalion--coming back from a +reconnaissance, and making for a gap in their own wire some where near +here. If we lay low there's an off chance they may pass us by." + +Without awaiting the lieutenant's order, Mahan passed along the signal +for every man to drop to earth and lie there. He all but forced the +eagerly gesticulating lieutenant to the ground. + +On came the swinging tread of the Germans. Mahan, listening +breathlessly, tried to gauge the distance and the direction. He +figured, presently, that the break the Germans had made in their wire +could be only a few yards below the spot where he and the lieutenant +had been at work with the pliers. Thus the intruders, from their +present course, must inevitably pass very close to the prostrate +Americans--so close, perhaps, as to brush against the nearest of them, +or even to step on one or more of the crouching figures. + +Mahan whispered to the man on his immediate left, the rookie from +Missouri: + +"Edge closer to the wire--close as you can wiggle, and lie flat. Pass +on the word." + +The Missourian obeyed. Before writhing his long body forward against +the bristly mass of wire he passed the instructions on to the man at +his own left. + +But his nerves were at breaking-point. + +It had been bad enough to crawl through the blind fog, with the ghostly +steps of his comrades pattering softly at either side of him. But it +was a thousand times harder to lie helpless here, in the choking fog +and on the soaked ground, while countless enemies were bearing down, +unseen, upon him, on one side, and an impenetrable wire cut off his +retreat on the other. + +The Missourian had let his imagination begin to work; always a mistake +in a private soldier. He was visualizing the moment when this tramping +German force should become aware of the presence of their puny foes and +should slaughter them against the merciless wires. It would not be a +fair stand-up fight, this murder-rush of hundreds of men against twelve +who were penned in and could not maneuver nor escape. And the thought +of it was doing queer things to the rookie's overwrought nerves. + +Having passed the word to creep closer to the wires, he began to +execute the order in person, with no delay at all. But he was a +fraction of a second too late. The Germans were moving in +hike-formation with "points" thrown out in advance to either side--a +"point" being a private soldier who, for scouting and other purposes, +marches at some distance from the main body. + +The point, ahead of the platoon, had swerved too far to the left, in +the blackness--an error that would infallibly have brought him up +against the wires, with considerable force, in another two steps. But +the Missourian was between him and the wires. And the point's +heavy-shod foot came down, heel first, on the back of the rookie's +out-groping hand. Such a crushing impact, on the hand-back, is one of +the most agonizing minor injuries a man can sustain. And this fact the +Missourian discovered with great suddenness. + +His too-taut nerves forced from his throat a yell that split the +deathly stillness with an ear-piercing vehemence. He sprang to his +feet, forgetful of orders intent only on thrusting his bayonet through +the Hun who had caused such acute torture to his hand. Half way up, the +rookie's feet went out from under him in the slimy mud. He caromed +against the point, then fell headlong. + +The German, doubtless thinking he had stumbled upon a single stray +American scout, whirled his own rifle aloft, to dash out the brains of +his luckless foe. But before the upflung butt could descend,--before +the rookie could rise or dodge,--the point added his quota to the rude +breaking of the night's silence. He screamed in panic terror, dropped +his brandished gun and reeled backward, clawing at his own throat. + +For out of the eerie darkness, something had launched itself at +him--something silent and terrible, that had flown to the Missourian's +aid. Down with a crash went the German, on his back. He rolled against +the Missourian, who promptly sought to grapple with him. + +But even as he clawed for the German, the rookie's nerves wrung from +him a second yell--this time less of rage than of horror. + +"Sufferin' cats!" he bellowed. "Why didn't anybody ever tell me Germans +was covered with fur instead of clothes?" + +The boche platoon was no longer striding along in hike-formation. It +was broken up into masses of wildly running men, all of them bearing +down upon the place whence issued this ungodly racket and turmoil. +Stumbling, reeling, blindly falling and rising again, they came on. + +Some one among them loosed a rifle-shot in the general direction of the +yelling. A second and a third German rifleman followed the example of +the first. From the distant American trenches, one or two snipers began +to pepper away toward the enemy lines, though the fog was too thick for +them, to see the German rifle-flashes. + +The boches farthest to the left, in the blind rush, fouled with the +wires. German snipers, from behind the Hun parapets, opened fire. A +minute earlier the night had been still as the grave. Now it fairly +vibrated with clangor. All because one rookie's nerves had been less +staunch than his courage, and because that same rookie had not only had +his hand stepped on in the dark, but had encountered something swirling +and hairy when he grabbed for the soldier who had stepped on him! + + +The American lieutenant, at the onset of the clamor, sprang to his +feet, whipping out his pistol; his dry lips parted in a command to +charge--a command which, naturally, would have reduced his eleven men +and himself to twelve corpses or to an equal number of mishandled +prisoners within the next few seconds. But a big hand was clapped +unceremoniously across the young officer's mouth, silencing the +half-spoken suicidal order. + +Sergeant Mahan's career in the regular army had given him an almost +uncanny power of sizing up his fellowmen. And he had long ago decided +that this was the sort of thing his untried lieutenant would be likely +to do, in just such an emergency. Wherefore his flagrant breach of +discipline in shoving his palm across the mouth of his superior officer. + +And as he was committing this breach of discipline, he heard the +Missourian's strangled gasp of: + +"Why didn't anybody ever tell me Germans was covered with fur?" + +In a flash Mahan understood. Wheeling, he stooped low and flung out +both arms in a wide-sweeping circle. Luckily his right hand's +fingertips, as they completed the circle, touched something fast-moving +and furry. + +"Bruce!" he whispered fiercely, tightening his precarious grip on the +wisp of fur his fingers had touched. "Bruce! Stand still, boy! It's YOU +who's got to get us clear of this! Nobody else, short of the good Lord, +can do it!" + +Bruce had had a pleasantly lazy day with his friends in the first-line +trenches. There had been much good food and more petting. And at last, +comfortably tired of it all, he had gone to sleep. He had awakened in a +most friendly mood, and a little hungry. Wherefore he had sallied forth +in search of human companionship. He found plenty of soldiers who were +more than willing to talk to him and make much of him. But, a little +farther ahead, he saw his good friend, Sergeant Mahan, and others of +his acquaintances, starting over the parapet on what promised to be a +jolly evening stroll. + +All dogs find it hard to resist the mysterious lure of a walk in human +companionship. True, the night was not an ideal one for a ramble, and +the fog had a way of congealing wetly on Bruce's shaggy coat. Still, a +damp coat was not enough of a discomfort to offset the joy of a stroll +with his friends. So Bruce had followed the twelve men quietly into No +Man's Land, falling decorously into step behind Mahan. + +It had not been much of a walk, for speed or for fun. For the humans +went ridiculously slowly, and had an eccentric way of bunching +together, every now and again, and then of stringing out into a +shambling line. Still, it was a walk, and therefore better than loafing +behind in the trenches. And Bruce had kept his noiseless place at the +Sergeant's heels. + +Then--long before Mahan heard the approaching tramp of feet--Bruce +caught not only the sound but the scent of the German platoon. The +scent at once told him that the strangers were not of his own army. A +German soldier and an American soldier--because of their difference in +diet as well as for certain other and more cogent reasons--have by no +means the same odor, to a collie's trained scent, nor to that of other +breeds of war-dogs. Official records of dog-sentinels prove that. + +Aliens were nearing Bruce's friends. And the dog's ruff began to stand +up. But Mahan and the rest seemed in no way concerned in spirit +thereby--though, to the dog's understanding, they must surely be aware +of the approach. So Bruce gave no further sign of displeasure. He was +out for a walk, as a guest. He was not on sentry-duty. + +But when the nearest German was almost upon them, and all twelve +Americans dropped to the ground, the collie became interested once +more. A German stepped on the hand of one of his newest friends. And +the friend yelled in pain. Whereat the German made as if to strike the +stepped-on man. + +This was quite enough for loyal Bruce. Without so much as a growl of +warning, he jumped at the offender. + +Dog and man tumbled earthward together. Then after an instant of flurry +and noise, Bruce felt Mahan's fingers on his shoulder and heard the +stark appeal of Mahan's whispered voice. Instantly the dog was a +professional soldier once more--alertly obedient and resourceful. + +"Catch hold my left arm, Lieutenant!" Mahan was exhorting. "Close up, +there, boys--every man's hand grabbing tight to the shoulder of the man +on his left! Pass the word. And you, Missouri, hang onto the +Lieutenant! Quick, there! And tread soft and tread fast, and don't let +go, whatever happens! Not a sound out of any one! I'm leading the way. +And Bruce is going to lead me." + +There was a scurrying scramble as the men groped for one another. Mahan +tightened his hold on Bruce's mane. + +"Bruce!" he said, very low, but with a strength of appeal that was not +lost on the listening dog. "Bruce! Camp! Back to CAMP! And keep QUIET! +Back to camp, boy! CAMP!" + +He had no need to repeat his command so often and so strenuously. Bruce +was a trained courier. The one word "Camp!" was quite enough to tell +him what he was to do. + +Turning, he faced the American lines and tried to break into a gallop. +His scent and his knowledge of direction were all the guides he needed. +A dog always relies on his nose first and his eyes last. The fog was no +obstacle at all to the collie. He understood the Sergeant's order, and +he set out at once to obey it. + +But at the very first step, he was checked. Mahan did not release that +feverishly tight hold on his mane, but merely shifted to his collar. + +Bruce glanced back, impatient at the delay. But Mahan did not let go. +Instead he said once more: + +"CAMP, boy!" + +And Bruce understood he was expected to make his way to camp, with +Mahan hanging on to his collar. + +Bruce did not enjoy this mode of locomotion. It was inconvenient, and +there seemed no sense in it; but there were many things about this +strenuous war-trade that Bruce neither enjoyed nor comprehended, yet +which he performed at command. + +So again he turned campward, Mahan at his collar and an annoyingly +hindering tail of men stumbling silently on behind them. All around +were the Germans--butting drunkenly through the blanket-dense fog, +swinging their rifles like flails, shouting confused orders, +occasionally firing. Now and then two or more of them would collide and +would wrestle in blind fury, thinking they had encountered an American. + +Impeded by their own sightlessly swarming numbers, as much as by the +impenetrable darkness, they sought the foe. And but for Bruce they must +quickly have found what they sought. Even in compact form, the +Americans could not have had the sheer luck to dodge every scattered +contingent of Huns which starred the German end of No Man's Land--most +of them between the fugitives and the American lines. + +But Bruce was on dispatch duty. It was his work to obey commands and to +get back to camp at once. It was bad enough to be handicapped by +Mahan's grasp on his collar. He was not minded to suffer further delay +by running into any of the clumps of gesticulating and cabbage-reeking +Germans between him and his goal. So he steered clear of such groups, +making several wide detours in order to do so. Once or twice he stopped +short to let some of the Germans grope past him, not six feet away. +Again he veered sharply to the left--increasing his pace and forcing +Mahan and the rest to increase theirs--to avoid a squad of thirty men +who were quartering the field in close formation, and who all but +jostled the dog as they strode sightlessly by. An occasional rifle-shot +spat forth its challenge. From both trench-lines men were firing at a +venture. A few of the bullets sang nastily close to the twelve huddled +men and their canine leader. Once a German, not three yards away, +screamed aloud and fell sprawling and kicking, as one such chance +bullet found him. Above and behind, sounded the plop of star-shells +sent up by the enemy in futile hope of penetrating the viscid fog. And +everywhere was heard the shuffle and stumbling of innumerable boots. + +At last the noise of feet began to die away, and the uneven groping +tread of the twelve Americans to sound more distinctly for the +lessening of the surrounding turmoil. And in another few seconds Bruce +came to a halt--not to an abrupt stop, as when he had allowed an enemy +squad to pass in front of him, but a leisurely checking of speed, to +denote that he could go no farther with the load he was helping to haul. + +Mahan put out his free hand. It encountered the American wires. Bruce +had stopped at the spot where the party had cut a narrow path through +the entanglement on the outward journey. Alone, the dog could easily +have passed through the gap, but he could not be certain of pulling +Mahan with him. Wherefore the halt. + + * * * * * + +The last of the twelve men scrambled down to safety, in the American +first-line trench, Bruce among them. The lieutenant went straight to +his commanding officer, to make his report. Sergeant Mahan went +straight to his company cook, whom he woke from a snoreful sleep. +Presently Mahan ran back to where the soldiers were gathered admiringly +around Bruce. + +The Sergeant carried a chunk of fried beef, for which he had just given +the cook his entire remaining stock of cigarettes. + +"Here you are, Bruce!" he exclaimed. "The best in the shop is none too +good for the dog that got us safe out of that filthy mess. Eat hearty!" + +Bruce did not so much as sniff at the (more or less) tempting bit of +meat. Coldly he looked up at Mahan. Then, with sensitive ears laid flat +against his silken head, in token of strong contempt, he turned his +back on the Sergeant and walked away. + +Which was Bruce's method of showing what he thought of a human fool who +would give him a command and who would then hold so tightly to him that +the dog could hardly carry out the order. + + + +CHAPTER V. The Double Cross + +In the background lay a landscape that had once been beautiful. In the +middle distance rotted a village that had once been alive. In the +foreground stood an edifice that had once been a church. The +once-beautiful landscape had the look of a gigantic pockmarked face, so +scored was it by shell-scar and crater. Its vegetation was swept away. +Its trees were shattered stumps. Its farmsteads were charred piles of +rubble. + +The village was unlike the general landscape, in that it had never been +beautiful. In spite of globe-trotters' sentimental gush, not all +villages of northern France were beautiful. Many were built for thrift +and for comfort and for expediency; not for architectural or natural +loveliness. + +But this village of Meran-en-Laye was not merely deprived of what +beauty it once might or might not have possessed. Except by courtesy it +was no longer a village at all. It was a double row of squalid ruins, +zig-zagging along the two sides of what was left of its main street. +Here and there a cottage or tiny shop or shed was still habitable. The +rest was debris. + +The church in the foreground was recognizable as such by the shape and +size of its ragged walls, and by a half-smashed image of the Virgin and +Child which slanted out at a perilous angle above its facade. + +Yet, miserable as the ruined hamlet seemed to the casual eye, it was at +present a vacation-resort--and a decidedly welcome one--to no less than +three thousand tired men. The wrecked church was an impromptu hospital +beneath whose shattered roof dozens of these men lay helpless on +makeshift cots. + +For the mixed American and French regiment known as the "Here-We-Comes" +was billeted at Meran-en-Laye during a respite from the rigors and +perils of the front-line trenches. + +The rest and the freedom from risks, supposed to be a part of the +"billeting" system, were not wholly the portion of the "Here-We Comes." +Meran--en--Laye was just then a somewhat important little speck on the +warmap. + +The Germans had been up to their favorite field sport of trying to +split in half two of the Allied armies, and to roll up each, +independently. The effort had been a failure; yet it had come so near +to success that many railway communications were cut off or deflected. +And Meran-en-Laye had for the moment gained new importance, by virtue +of a spur railway-line which ran through its outskirts and which made +junction with a new set of tracks the American engineers were +completing. Along this transverse of roads much ammunition and food and +many fighting men were daily rushed. + +The safety of the village had thus become of much significance. While +it was too far behind the lines to be in grave danger of enemy raids, +yet such danger existed to some extent. Wherefore the presence of the +"Here-We-Comes"--for the paradoxical double purpose of "resting up" and +of guarding the railway Function. + +Still, it was better than trench-work; and the "Here-We-Comes" enjoyed +it--for a day or so. Then trouble had set in. + +A group of soldiers were lounging on the stone seat in front of the +village estaminet. Being off duty, they were reveling in that popular +martial pastime known to the Tommy as "grousing" and to the Yankee +doughboy as "airing a grouch." + +Top-Sergeant Mahan, formerly of the regular army, was haranguing the +others. Some listened approvingly, others dissentingly and others not +at all. + +"I tell you," Mahan declared for the fourth time, "somebody's +double-crossing us again. There's a leak. And if they don't find out +where it is, a whole lot of good men and a million dollars' worth of +supplies are liable to spill out through that same leak. It--" + +"But," argued his crony, old Sergeant Vivier, in his hard-learned +English, "but it may all be of a chance, mon vieux. It may, not be the +doubled cross,--whatever a doubled cross means,--but the mere chance. +Such things often--" + +"Chance, my grandmother's wall-eyed cat!" snorted Mahan. "Maybe it +might have been chance--when this place hadn't been bombed for a +month--for a whole flight of boche artillery and airship grenades to +cut loose against it the day General Pershing happened to stop here for +an hour on his way to Chateau-Thierry. Maybe that was chance--though I +know blamed well it wasn't. Maybe it was chance that the place wasn't +bombed again till two days ago, when that troop-train had to spend such +a lot of time getting shunted at the junction. Maybe it was chance that +the church, over across the street, hadn't been touched since the last +drive, till our regiment's wounded were put in it--and that it's been +hit three times since then. Maybe any one of those things--and of a +dozen others was chance. But it's a cinch that ALL of them weren't +chance. Chance doesn't work that way. I--" + +"Perhaps," doubtfully assented old Vivier, "perhaps. But I little like +to believe it. For it means a spy. And a spy in one's midst is like to +a snake in one's blankets. It is a not pleasing comrade. And it stands +in sore need of killing." + +"There's spies everywhere," averred Mahan. "That's been proved often +enough. So why not here? But I wish to the Lord I could lay hands on +him! If this was one of the little sheltered villages, in a valley, his +work would be harder. And the boche airships and the long-rangers +wouldn't find us such a simple target. But up here on this ridge, all a +spy has to do is to flash a signal, any night, that a boche airman can +pick up or that can even be seen with good glasses from some high point +where it can be relayed to the German lines. The guy who laid out this +burg was sure thoughtless. He might have known there'd be a war some +day. He might even have strained his mind and guessed that we'd be +stuck here. Gee!" + +He broke off with a grunt of disgust; nor did he so much as listen to +another of the group who sought to lure him into an opinion as to +whether the spy might be an inhabitant of the village or a +camp-follower. + +Sucking at his pipe; the Sergeant glowered moodily down the ruined +street. The village drowsed under the hot midday. Here and there a +soldier lounged along aimlessly or tried out his exercise-book French +on some puzzled, native. Now and then an officer passed in or out of +the half-unroofed mairie which served as regimental headquarters. + +Beyond, in the handkerchief-sized village square, a platoon was +drilling. A thin French housewife was hanging sheets on a line behind a +shell-twisted hovel. A Red Cross nurse came out of the hospital-church +across the street from the estaminet and seated herself on the stone +steps with a basketful of sewing. + +Mahan's half-shut eyes rested critically on the drilling +platoon--amusedly on the woman who was so carefully hanging the ragged +sheets,--and then approvingly upon the Red Cross nurse on the church +steps across the way. + +Mahan, like most other soldiers, honored and revered the Red Cross for +its work of mercy in the army. And the sight of one of the several +local nurses of the Order won from him a glance of real approbation. + +But presently into his weather-beaten face came an expression of glad +welcome. Out of the mairie gate and into the sleepy warmth of the +street lounged a huge dark-brown-and-white collie. The don stretched +himself lazily, fore and aft, in true collie style, then stood gazing +about him as if in search of something of interest to occupy his bored +attention. + +"Hello!" observed Mahan, breaking in on a homily of Vivier's. "There's +Bruce!" + +Vivier's leathery face brightened at sound of the collie's name. He +looked eagerly in the direction of Mahan's pointing finger. + +"Ce brave!" exclaimed the Frenchman. "I did not know even that he was +in the village. It must be he is but new-arriven. Otherwise he would, +of an assuredly, have hunted up his old friends. Ohe, Bruce!" he called +invitingly. + +"The big dog must have gotten here just a few minutes ago," said +Sergeant Mahan. "He was coming out of headquarters when I saw him. That +must mean he's just struck the town, and with a message for the K.O. He +always goes like greased lightning when he's on dispatch duty, till he +has delivered his message. Then, if he's to be allowed to hang around a +while before he's sent back, he loafs, lazy-like; the way you see him +now. If all the courier-dogs were like him, every human courier would +be out of a job." + +At Vivier's hail the great collie had pricked his ears and glanced +inquiringly up and down the street. Catching sight of the group seated +in front of the estaminet, he began to wag his plumy tail and set off +toward them at a trot. + +Ten minutes earlier, Bruce had cantered into Meran-en-Laye from the +opposite end of the street, bearing in his collar a dispatch from the +corps commander to the colonel of the "Here-We-Comes." The colonel, at +the mairie, had read the dispatch and had patted its bearer; then had +bidden the dog lie down and rest, if he chose, after his long run. + +Instead, Bruce had preferred to stroll out in search of friends. + +Top-Sergeant Mahan, by the way, would have felt highly flattered had he +chanced to get a glimpse of the dispatch Bruce had brought to the +colonel. For it bore out Mahan's own theory regarding the presence of +spies at or near the village, and it bade the "Here-We-Come" colonel +use every means for tracing them. + +It added the information that three troop-trains with nine engines were +to pass through the village that night on their way to the trenches, +and that the trains were due at the junction at nine o'clock or shortly +thereafter. The mairie was on the other side of the street from the +estaminet. Incidentally, it was on the shady side of the street--for +which reason Bruce,--being wise, and the day being hot,--remained on +that side, until he should come opposite the bench where his friends +awaited him. + +His course, thus, brought him directly past the church. + +As he trotted by the steps, the Red Cross nurse, who sat sewing there, +chirped timidly at him. Bruce paused in his leisurely progress to see +who had accosted him whether an old acquaintance, to be greeted as +such, or merely a pleasantly inclined stranger. + +His soft brown eyes rested first in idle inquiry upon the angular and +white-robed figure on the steps. Then, on the instant, the friendly +inquiring look left his eyes and their softness went with it--leaving +the dog's gaze cold and frankly hostile. + +One corner of Bruce's lips slowly lifted, revealing a tiny view of the +terrible white fangs behind them. His gayly erect head was lowered, and +in the depths of his furry throat a growl was born. When a dog barks +and holds his head up, there is little enough to fear from him. But +when he lowers his head and growl--then look out. + +Mahan knew dogs. In stark amazement he now noted Bruce's strange +attitude toward the nurse. Never before had he seen the dog show active +hostility toward a stranger--least of all toward a stranger who had in +no way molested him. It was incredible that the wontedly dignified and +sweet-tempered collie had thus returned a greeting. Especially from a +woman! + +Mahan had often seen Red Cross nurses stop to caress Bruce. He had been +amused at the dog's almost protective cordiality toward all women, +whether the French peasants or the wearers of the brassard of mercy. + +Toward men--except those he had learned to look on as friends--the +collie always comported himself with a courteous aloofness But he had +seemed to regard every woman as something to be humored and guarded and +to be treated with the same cordial friendliness that he bestowed on +their children--which is the way of the best type of collie. Yet Bruce +had actually snarled at this woman who had chirped to him from the +steps of the church! And he showed every sign of following up the +challenge by still more drastic measures. + +"Bruce!" called Mahan sharply. "BRUCE! Shame! Come over here! Come, +NOW!" + +At the Sergeant's vehement summons Bruce turned reluctantly away from +the foot of the church steps and came across the street toward the +estaminet. He came slowly. Midway he halted and looked back over his +shoulder at the nurse, his fangs glinting once more in a snarl. At a +second and more emphatic call from Mahan the dog continued his progress. + +The nurse had started back in alarm at the collie's angry +demonstration. Now, gathering up her work, she retreated into the +church. + +"I'm sorry, Miss!" Mahan shouted after her. "I never saw him that way, +before, when a lady spoke to him. If it was any dog but old Bruce, I'd +give him a whaling for acting like that to you. I'm dead-sure he didn't +mean any harm." + +"Oh, I was going in, anyway," replied the nurse, from the doorway. "It +is of no consequence." + +She spoke nervously, her rich contralto voice shaken by the dog's +fierce show of enmity. Then she vanished into the church; and Mahan and +Vivier took turns in lecturing Bruce on his shameful dearth of courtesy. + +The big dog paid no heed at all to his friends' discourse. He was +staring sullenly at the doorway through which the nurse had gone. + +"That's one swell way for a decently bred dog to treat a woman!" Mahan +was telling him. "Least of all, a Red Cross nurse! I'm clean ashamed of +you!" + +Bruce did not listen. In his heart he was still angry--and very much +perplexed as well. For he knew what these stupid humans did not seem to +know. + +HE KNEW THE RED CROSS NURSE WAS NO WOMAN AT ALL, BUT A MAN. + +Bruce knew, too, that the nurse did not belong to his loved friends of +the Red Cross. For his uncanny power of scent told him the garments +worn by the impostor belonged to some one else. To mere humans, a small +and slender man, who can act, and who dons woman's garb, is a woman. To +any dog, such a man is no more like a woman than a horse with a +lambskin saddle-pad is a lamb. He is merely a man who is differently +dressed from other men--even as this man who had chirped to Bruce, from +the church steps, was no less a man for the costume in which he had +swathed his body. Any dog, at a glance and at a sniff, would have known +that. + +Women, for one thing, do not usually smoke dozens of rank cigars daily +for years, until their flesh is permeated with the smell of tobacco. A +human could not have detected such a smell--such a MAN-smell,--on the +person who had chirped to Bruce. Any dog, twenty feet away, would have +noticed it, and would have tabulated the white-clad masquerader as a +man. Nor do a woman's hair and skin carry the faint but unmistakable +odor of barracks and of tent-life and of martial equipment, as did this +man's. The masquerader was evidently not only a man but a soldier. + +Dogs,--high-strung dogs,--do not like to have tricks played on them; +least of all by strangers. Bruce seemed to take the nurse-disguise as a +personal affront to himself. Then, too, the man was not of his own +army. On the contrary, the scent proclaimed him one of the horde whom +Bruce's friends so manifestly hated--one of the breed that had more +than once fired on the dog. + +Diet and equipment and other causes give a German soldier a markedly +different scent, to dogs' miraculously keen nostrils,--and to those of +certain humans,--from the French or British or American troops. War +records prove this. Once having learned the scent, and having learned +to detest it, Bruce was not to be deceived. + +For all these reasons he had snarled loathingly at the man in white. +For these same reasons he could not readily forget the incident, but +continued every now and then to glance curiously across toward the +church. + +Presently,--not relishing the rebukes of the friends who had heretofore +pestered him by overmuch petting,--the collie arose quietly from his +couch of trampled earth at the foot of the stone bench and strolled +back across the street. Most of the men were too busy, talking, to note +Bruce's departure. But Sergeant Mahan caught sight of him just as the +dog was mounting the last of the steps leading into the church. + +As a rule, when Bruce went investigating, he walked carelessly and with +his tail slightly a-wag. Now his tail was stiff as an icicle, and he +moved warily, on the tips of his toes. His tawny-maned neck was low. +Mahan, understanding dogs, did not like the collie's demeanor. +Remembering that the nurse had entered the church a few minutes +earlier, the Sergeant got to his feet and hastily followed Bruce. + +The dog, meanwhile, had passed through the crazily splintered doorway +and had paused on the threshold of the improvised hospital, as the reek +of iodoform and of carbolic smote upon his sensitive nostrils. In front +of him was the stone-paved vestibule. Beyond was the interior of the +shattered church, lined now with double rows of cots. + +Seated on a camp-chair in the shadowy vestibule was the pseudo Red +Cross nurse. At sight of the collie the nurse got up in some haste. +Bruce, still walking stiff-legged, drew closer. + +Out from under the white skirt flashed a capable and solidly-shod foot. +In a swinging kick, the foot let drive at the oncoming dog. Before +Bruce could dodge or could so much as guess what was coming,--the kick +smote him with agonizing force, square on the shoulder. + +To a spirited collie, a kick carries more than the mere pain of its +inflicting. It is a grossly unforgivable affront as well--as many a +tramp and thief have learned, at high cost. + +By the time the kick had fairly landed, Bruce had recovered from his +instant of incredulous surprise; and with lightning swiftness he hurled +himself at his assailant. + +No bark or growl heralded the murderous throatlunge. It was all the +more terrible for the noiselessness wherewith it was delivered. The +masquerading man saw it coming, just too late to guard against it. He +lurched backward, belatedly throwing both hands up to defend his +throat. It was the involuntary backward step which saved his jugular. +For his heel caught in the hem of his white skirt. And wholly off +balance, he pitched headlong to the floor. + +This jerky shift of position, on the part of the foe, spoiled Bruce's +aim. His fearful jaws snapped together harmlessly in empty air at a +spot where, a fraction of a second earlier, the other's throat had +been. Down crashed the disguised man. And atop of him the furious dog +hurled himself, seeking a second time the throatgrip he had so narrowly +missed. + +At this point on the program Sergeant Mahan arrived just in time to +bury both hands in the mass of Bruce's furry ruff and to drag the +snarlingly rabid dog back from his prey. + +The place was in an uproar. Nurses and doctors came rushing out into +the vestibule; sick and wounded men sat up on their cots and eagerly +craned their necks to catch sight of the scrimmage. Soldiers ran in +from the street. + +Strong as he was, Mahan had both hands full in holding the frantic +Bruce back from his enemy. Under the insult of the kick from this +masquerader, whom he had already recognized as a foe, the collie had +temporarily lost every vestige of his stately dignity. He was for the +moment merely a wild beast, seeking revenge for a brutal injury. He +writhed and fought in Mahan's grasp. Never once did he seek to attack +the struggling man who held him. But he strained every giant sinew to +get at the foe who had kicked him. + +The dog's opponent scrambled to his feet, helped by a dozen willing +hands and accosted by as many solicitous voices. The victim's face was +bone-gray with terror. His lips twitched convulsively. Yet, as befitted +a person in his position, he had a splendid set of nerves. And almost +at once he recovered partial control over himself. + +"I--I don't know how it happened," he faltered, his rich contralto +voice shaky with the ground-swells of his recent shock. "It began when +I was sitting on the steps, sewing. This dog came past. He growled at +me so threateningly that I came indoors. A minute later, while I was +sitting here sewing, he sprang at me and threw me down. I believe he +would--would have killed me," the narrator finished, with a very +genuine shudder, "if I had not been rescued when I was. Such +bloodthirsty brutes ought to be shot!" + +"He not only OUGHT to be," hotly agreed the chief surgeon, "but he is +GOING to be. Take him out into the street, one of you men, and put a +ball in his head." + +The surgeon turned to the panting nurse. + +"You're certain he didn't hurt you?" he asked. "I don't want a +newcomer, like yourself, to think this is the usual treatment our +nurses get. Lie down and rest. You look scared to death. And don't be +nervous about the cur attacking you again. He'll be dead inside of +three minutes." + +The nurse, with a mumbled word of thanks, scuttled off into the rear of +the church, where the tumbledown vestry had been fitted up as a +dormitory. + +Bruce had calmed down somewhat under Mahan's sharp reproof. But he now +struggled afresh to get at his vanished quarry. And again the Sergeant +had a tussle to hold him. + +"I don't know what's got into the big fellow!" exclaimed Mahan to +Vivier as the old Frenchman joined the tumultuous group. "He's gone +clean daft. He'd of killed that poor woman, if I hadn't--" + +"Get him out of here!" ordered the surgeon. "And clear out, yourselves, +all of you! This rumpus has probably set a lot of my patients' +temperatures to rocketing. Take the cur out and shoot him!" + +"Excuse me, sir," spoke up Mahan, as Vivier stared aghast at the man +who commanded Bruce's destruction, "but he's no cur. He's a +courier-collie, officially in the service of the United States +Government. And he's the best courier-dog in France to-day. This is--" + +"I don't care what he is!" raged the surgeon. "He--" + +"This is Bruce," continued Mahan, "the dog that saved the +'Here-We-Comes' at Rache, and that steered a detail of us to safety one +night in the fog, in the Chateau-Thierry sector. If you order any man +of the 'Here-We-Comes' to shoot Bruce, you're liable to have a mutiny +on your hands--officer or no officer. But if you wish, sir, I can +transmit your order to the K.O. If he endorses it--" + +But the surgeon sought, at that moment, to save the remnants of his +dignity and of a bad situation by stalking loftily back into the +hospital, and leaving Mahan in the middle of his speech. + +"Or, sir," the Sergeant grinningly called after him, "you might write +to the General Commanding, and tell him you want Bruce shot. The Big +Dog always sleeps in the general's own room, when he's off-duty, at +Division Headquarters. Maybe the general will O.K. his death-sentence, +if you ask him to. He--" + +Somewhat quickening his stately stride, the surgeon passed out of +earshot. At the officers' mess of the "Here-We-Comes," he had often +heard Bruce's praises sung. He had never chanced to see the dog until +now. But, beneath his armor of dignity, he quaked to think what the +results to himself must have been, had he obeyed his first impulse of +drawing his pistol and shooting the adored and pricelessly useful +collie. + +Mahan,--stolidly rejoicing in his victory over the top-lofty potentate +whom he disliked,--led the way out of the crowded vestibule into the +street. Bruce followed demurely at his heels and Vivier bombarded +everybody in sight for information as to what the whole fracas was +about. + +Bruce was himself again. Now that the detested man in woman's clothes +had gone away, there was no sense in continuing to struggle or to waste +energy in a show of fury. Nevertheless, in his big heart burned +deathless hatred toward the German who had kicked him. And, like an +elephant, a collie never forgets. + +"But," Vivier was demanding of everybody, "but why should the gentle +Bruce have attacked a good nurse? It is not what you call 'make-sense.' +C'est un gentilhomme, ce vieux! He would not attack a woman less still +a sister of the Red Cross. He--" + +"Of course he wouldn't," glumly assented the downhearted Mahan. "But he +DID. That's the answer. I saw him do it. He knocked her down and--" + +"Which nurse was she?" asked a soldier who had come up after the +trouble was over. + +"A new one here. I don't know her name. She came last week. I saw her +when she got here. I was on duty at the K.O.'s office when she +reported. She had a letter from some one on the surgeon-general's +staff. But why Bruce should have gone for her to-day--or for any +woman--is more than I can see. She was scared half to death. It's lucky +she heard the surgeon order him shot. She'll suppose he's dead, by now. +And that'll cure her scare. We must try to keep Bruce away from this +end of the street till he goes back to headquarters to-morrow." + +As a result Bruce was coaxed to Mahan's company-shed and by dint of +food-gifts and petting was induced to spend most of the day there. + +At sunset Bruce tired of his dull surroundings. Mahan had gone on duty; +so had Vivier; so had others of his friends. The dog was bored and +lonely. Also he had eaten much. And a walk is good, not only for +loneliness, but for settling an overfull stomach. Bruce decided to go +for a walk. + +Through the irregular street of the village he picked his way, and on +toward the open country beyond. A sentry or two snapped fingers of +greeting to him as he strolled past them. The folk of the village eyed +his bulk and graceful dignity with something like awe. + +Beyond the hamlet the ridge of hilltop ran on for perhaps a +quarter-mile before dipping into the plain below. At one end of this +little plateau a company of infantry was drilling. Bruce recognized +Mahan among the marching lines, but he saw his friend was on duty and +refrained from going up to him. + +Above, the sunset sky was cloudless. Like tiny specks, miles to +eastward, a few enemy airships circled above the heap of clustered +hills which marked the nearest German position. The torn-up plain, +between, seemed barren of life. So, at first, did the farther end of +the jutting ridge on which the village was perched. But presently +Bruce's idly wandering eye was caught by a flutter of white among some +boulders that clumped together on the ridge's brow farthest from the +village. + +Some one--a woman, from the dress--was apparently picking her way +through the boulders. As Bruce moved forward, a big rock shut her off +from his view and from the view of the hamlet and of the maneuvering +infantry company a furlong away. + +Just then a puff of breeze blew from eastward toward the collie; and it +bore to him a faint scent that set his ruff a-bristle and his soft +brown eyes ablaze. To a dog, a scent once smelled is as recognizable +again as is the sight of a once-seen face to a human. Bruce set off at +a hand-gallop toward the clump of boulders. + +The Red Cross nurse, whom Bruce had so nearly killed, was off duty +until the night-shift should go on at the hospital. The nurse had taken +advantage of this brief surcease from toil, by going for a little walk +in the cool sunset air, and had carried along a bag of sewing. + +Up to three months ago this nurse had been known as Heinrich Stolz, and +had been a valued member of the Wilhelmstrasse's workingforce of secret +agents. Then, acting under orders, Herr Heinrich Stolz had vanished +from his accustomed haunts. Soon thereafter a Red Cross nurse--Felicia +Stuart by name had reported for duty at Paris, having been transferred +thither from Italy, and bearing indubitable credentials to that effect. + +From carefully picked-up information Stolz had just learned of the +expected arrival of the three troop-trains at the junction at nine that +evening. The tidings had interested him keenly, and he knew of other +people to whom they would be far more interesting. + +Seating himself under the lee of the easternmost rock, Stolz primly +opened his sewing-bag and drew forth various torn garments. The +garments were for the most part white, but one or two were of gaudy +colors. + +By way of precaution, in case of discovery, the spy threaded a needle. +Thus, if any one should chance to see him shake out a garment, +preparatory to laying it on his knee and mending it, there could be no +reasonable cause for suspicion. Herr Stolz was nothing if not efficient. + +He held up the needle and poked the thread at its eye in truly feminine +fashion. + +He had just finished this feat of dexterity when he chanced to look up +from his work at sound of fast-pattering feet. Not thirty feet away, +charging head on at him, rushed the great brown-and-white collie he +supposed had been shot. + +With a jump of abject terror, Herr Stolz sprang up. Mingled with his +normal fear of the dog was a tinge of superstitious dread. He had been +so certain the beast was shot! The doctor had given the order for his +killing. The doctor was a commissioned officer. Stolz's German mind +could not grasp the possibility of a soldier disobeying an officer's +imperative command. + +The collie was upon him by the time the spy gained his feet. Stolz +reached frantically under his dress-folds for the deadly little pistol +that he always kept there. But he was still a novice in the mysteries +of feminine apparel. And, before his fingers could close on the weapon, +Bruce's bared fangs were gleaming at his throat. + +Stolz ceased to search for the weapon. And, as before, he threw up both +frantic hands to ward off the furious jaws. + +He was barely in time. Bruce's white teeth drove deep into the spy's +forearm, and Bruce's eighty pounds of furry muscular bulk smote Stolz +full in the chest. Down went the spy, under the terrific impact, +sprawling wildly on his back, and fighting with both bleeding hands to +push back the dog. + +Bruce, collie-fashion, did not stick to one grip, but bit and slashed a +dozen times in three seconds, tearing and rending his way toward the +throat-hold he craved; driving through flesh of hands and of forearms +toward his goal. + +Like many another German, Stolz was far more adept at causing pain than +at enduring it. Also, from birth, he had had an unconquerable fear of +dogs. His nerves, too, were not yet recovered from Bruce's attack +earlier in the day. All this, and the spectral suddenness of the +onslaught, robbed him of every atom of his usual stony self-control. + +Sergeant Mahan was a good soldier. Yet a minute earlier he had almost +ruined his reputation as such. He had been hard put to it to refrain +from leaving the ranks of his drilling company, a furlong from the +rocks, and running at record speed toward the boulders. For he had seen +the supposed nurse pass that way. And almost directly afterward he had +seen Bruce follow her thither. And he could guess what would happen. + +Luckily for the sake of discipline, the order of "Break ranks!" was +given before Mahan could disgrace himself by such unmartial behavior. +And, on the instant, the Sergeant broke into a run in the direction of +the rocks. + +Wondering at his eccentric action, several of the soldiers followed. +The company captain, at sight of a knot of his men dashing at breakneck +speed toward the boulders, started at a more leisurely pace in the same +direction. + +Mahan had reached the edge of the rocks when his ears were greeted by a +yell of mortal fear. The captain and the rest, catching the sound, went +faster. Screech after screech rang from the rocky enclosure. + +Mahan rounded the big boulder at the crest of the ridge and flung +himself upon the two combatants, as they thrashed about in a tumultuous +dual mass on the ground. And just then Bruce at last found his grip on +Stolz's throat. + +A stoical German signal-corps officer, on a hilltop some miles to +eastward, laid aside his field-glass and calmly remarked to a man at +his side + +"We have lost a good spy!" + +Such was the sole epitaph and eulogy of Herr Heinrich Stolz, from his +army. + +Meantime, Sergeant Mahan was prying loose the collie's ferocious jaws +from their prey and was tugging with all his might to drag the dog off +the shrieking spy. The throat-hold, he noted, was a bare inch from the +jugular. + +The rest of the soldiers, rushing up pell-mell, helped him pull the +infuriated Bruce from his victim. The spectacle of their admired +dog-hero, so murderously mauling a woman of the Red Cross, dazed them +with horror. + +"Take him AWAY!" bellowed Stolz, delirious with pain and fear. "He's +KILLED me--der gottverdammte Teufelhund!" + +And now the crazed victim's unconscious use of German was not needed to +tell every one within hearing just who and what he was. For the +quavering tones were no longer a rich contralto. They were a throaty +baritone. And the accent was Teutonic. + +"Bruce!" observed Top-Sergeant Mahan next morning, "I've always said a +man who kicks a dog is more of a cur than the dog is. But you'll never +know how near I came to kicking you yesterday, when I caught you +mangling that filthy spy. And Brucie, if I had kicked you, well--I'd be +praying at this minute that the good Lord would grow a third leg on me, +so that I could kick myself all the way from here to Berlin!" + + + +CHAPTER VI. The Werewolf + +When Bruce left the quiet peace of The Place for the hell of the +Western Front, it had been stipulated by the Mistress and the Master +that if ever he were disabled, he should be shipped back to The Place, +at their expense. + +It was a stipulation made rather to soothe the Mistress's sorrow at +parting from her loved pet than in any hope that it could be fulfilled; +for the average life of a courierdog on the battle-front was tragically +short. And his fate was more than ordinarily certain. If the boche +bullets and shrapnel happened to miss him, there were countless +diseases--bred of trench and of hardship and of abominable food--to +kill him. + +The Red Cross appeal raised countless millions of dollars and brought +rescue to innumerable human warriors. But in caring for humans, the +generosity of most givers reached its limit; and the Blue Cross--"for +the relief of dogs and horses injured in the service of the +Allies"--was forced to take what it could get. Yet many a man, and many +a body of men, owed life and safety to the heroism of some war-dog, a +dog which surely merited special care when its own certain hour of +agony struck. + +Bruce's warmest overseas friends were to be found in the ranks of the +mixed Franco-American regiment, nicknamed the "Here-We-Comes." Right +gallantly, in more than one tight place, had Bruce been of use to the +"Here-We-Comes." On his official visits to the regiment, he was always +received with a joyous welcome that would have turned any head less +steady than a thoroughbred collie's. + +Bruce enjoyed this treatment. He enjoyed, too, the food-dainties +wherewith the "Here-We-Comes" plied him. But to no man in the army +would he give the adoring personal loyalty he had left at The Place +with the Mistress and the Master. Those two were still his only gods. +And he missed them and his sweet life at The Place most bitterly. Yet +he was too good a soldier to mope. + + * * * * * + +For months the "Here-We-Comes" had been quartered in a "quiet"--or only +occasionally tumultuous--sector, near Chateau-Thierry. Then the +comparative quiet all at once turned to pandemonium. + +A lanky and degenerate youth (who before the war had been unlovingly +known throughout Europe as the "White Rabbit" and who now was mentioned +in dispatches as the "Crown Prince") had succeeded in leading some +half-million fellow-Germans into a "pocket" that had lately been merely +a salient. + +From the three lower sides of the pocket, the Allies ecstatically flung +themselves upon their trapped foes in a laudable effort to crush the +half-million boches and their rabbit-faced princeling into surrender +before the latter could get out of the snare, and to the shelter of the +high ground and the reenforcements that lay behind it. The Germans +objected most strenuously to this crushing process. And the three +beleaguered edges of the pocket became a triple-section of hell. + +It was a period when no one's nerves were in any degree normal--least +of all the nerves of the eternally hammered Germans. Even the fiercely +advancing Franco-Americans, the "Here-We-Comes," had lost the grimly +humorous composure that had been theirs, and waxed sullen and ferocious +in their eagerness. + +Thus it was that Bruce missed his wontedly uproarious welcome as he +cantered, at sunset one July day, into a smashed farmstead where his +friends, the "Here-We-Comes," were bivouacked for the night. By +instinct, the big dog seemed to know where to find the temporary +regimental headquarters. + +He trotted past a sentry, into an unroofed cattle-shed where the +colonel was busily scribbling a detailed report of the work done by the +"Here-We-Comes" during that day's drive. + +Coming to a halt by the colonel's side, Bruce stood expectantly wagging +his plumy tail and waiting for the folded message from division +headquarters to be taken off his collar. + +Usually, on such visits, the colonel made much of the dog. To-day he +merely glanced up abstractedly from his writing, at sight of Bruce's +silken head at his side. He unfastened the message, read it, frowned +and went on with his report. + +Bruce continued to wag his tail and to look up wistfully for the wonted +petting and word of commendation. But the colonel had forgotten his +existence. So presently the collie wearied of waiting for a caress from +a man whose caresses, at best, he did not greatly value. He turned and +strolled out of the shed. His message delivered, he knew he was at +liberty to amuse himself as he might choose to, until such time as he +must carry back to his general a reply to the dispatch he had brought. + +From outside came the voices of tired and lounging soldiers. A +traveling kitchen had just been set up near by. From it arose a blend +of smells that were mighty tempting to a healthily hungry dog. Thither, +at a decorous but expectant pace, Bruce bent his steps. + +Top-Sergeant Mahan was gazing with solicitous interest upon the toil of +the cooks at the wheeled kitchen. Beside him, sharing his concern in +the supper preparations, was Mahan's closest crony, old Sergeant +Vivier. The wizened little Frenchman, as a boy, had been in the +surrender of Sedan. Nightly, ever since, he had besought the saints to +give him, some day, a tiny share in the avenging of that black disgrace. + +Mahan and Vivier were the warmest of Bruce's many admirers in the +"Here-We-Comes." Ordinarily a dual whoop of joy from them would have +greeted his advent. This afternoon they merely chirped abstractedly at +him, and Mahan patted him carelessly on the head before returning to +the inspection of the cooking food. + +Since an hour before dawn, both men had been in hot action. The command +for the "Here-We-Comes" to turn aside and bivouac for the night had +been a sharp disappointment to them, as well as to every unwounded man +in the regiment. + +When a gambler is in the middle of a winning streak, when an athlete +feels he has the race in his own hands, when a business man has all but +closed the deal that means fortune to him--at such crises it is +maddening to be halted at the very verge of triumph. But to soldiers +who, after months of reverses, at last have their hated foe on the run, +such a check does odd things to temper and to nerves. + +In such plight were the men of the "Here-We-Comes," on this late +afternoon. Mahan and Vivier were too seasoned and too sane to give way +to the bursts of temper and the swirls of blasphemy that swayed so many +of their comrades. Nevertheless they were glum and silent and had no +heart for jolly welcomings,--even to so dear a friend as Bruce. + +Experience told them that a square meal would work miracles in the way +of calming and bracing them. Hence, apart from stark hunger, their +interest in the cooking of supper. + +Bruce was too much a philosopher--and not devoted enough to his soldier +friends--to be hurt at the lack of warmth in the greeting. With the air +of an epicure, he sniffed at the contents of one of the kitchen's +bubbling kettles. Then he walked off and curled himself comfortably on +a pile of bedding, there to rest until supper should be ready. + +Several times, as he lay there, soldiers passed and repassed. One or +two of them snapped their fingers at the dog or even stooped, in +passing, to stroke his head. But on the faces of all of them was unrest +and a certain wolfish eagerness, which precluded playing with pets at +such a time. The hot zest of the man-hunt was upon them. It was gnawing +in the veins of the newest recruit, ever, as in the heart of the +usually self-contained colonel of the regiment. + +The colonel, in fact, had been so carried away by the joy of seeing his +men drive the hated graycoats before them that day that he had +overstepped the spirit of his own orders from the division commander. + +In brief, he had made no effort to "dress" his command, in the advance, +upon the regiments to either side of it. As a result, when the signal +to bivouac for the night was given, the "Here-We-Comes" were something +like a mile ahead of the regiment which should have been at their +immediate right, and nearly two miles in front of the brigade at their +left. + +In other words, the "Here-We-Comes" now occupied a salient of their +own, ahead of the rest of the FrancoAmerican line. It was in rebuke for +this bit of good progress and bad tactics that the division commander +had written to the colonel, in the dispatch which Bruce had brought. + +German airmen, sailing far above, and dodging as best they could the +charges of the Allied 'planes, had just noted that the "Here-We-Comes" +"salient" was really no salient at all. So far had it advanced that, +for the moment, it was out of touch with the rest of the division. It +was, indeed, in an excellent position to be cut off and demolished by a +dashing nightattack. And a report to this effect was delivered to a +fumingly distracted German major general, who yearned for a chance to +atone in some way for the day's shameful reverses. + +"If they hadn't halted us and made us call it a day, just as we were +getting into our stride," loudly grumbled one Yankee private to another +as the two clumped up to the kitchen, "we'd have been in +Fere-en-Tardenois by now. What lazy guy is running this drive, anyhow?" + +"The same lazy guy that will stick you into the hoosgow for +insubordination and leave you to do your bit there while the rest of us +stroll on to Berlin!" snapped Top-Sergeant Mahan, wheeling upon the +grumbler. "Till you learn how to obey orders without grouching, it +isn't up to you to knock wiser men. Shut up!" + +Though Mahan's tone of reproof was professionally harsh, his spirit was +not in his words. And the silenced private knew it. He knew, too, that +the top-sergeant was as savage over the early halt as were the rest of +the men. + +Bruce, as a rule, when he honored the "Here-We-Comes" with a visit, +spent the bulk of his time with Mahan and old Vivier. But to-day +neither of these friends was an inspiring companion. Nor were the rest +of Bruce's acquaintances disposed to friendliness. Wherefore, as soon +as supper was eaten, the dog returned to his heap of bedding, for the +hour or so of laziness which Nature teaches all her children to demand, +after a full meal,--and which the so-called "dumb" animals alone are +intelligent enough to take. + +Dusk had merged into night when Bruce got to his feet again. Taps had +just sounded. The tired men gladly rolled themselves into their +blankets and fell into a dead sleep. A sentry-relief set forth to +replace the first batch of sentinels with the second. + +Mahan was of the party. Though the top-sergeant had been a stupid +comrade, thus far to-day, he was now evidently going for a walk. And +even though it was a duty-walk, yet the idea of it appealed to the dog +after his long inaction. + +So Bruce got up and followed. As he came alongside the stiffly marching +top-sergeant, the collie so far subverted discipline as to thrust his +nose, in friendly greeting, into Mahan's slightly cupped palm. And the +top-sergeant so far abetted the breach of discipline as to give the +collie's head a furtive pat. The night was dim, as the moon had not +risen; so the mutual contact of good-fellowship was not visible to the +marching men on either side of Mahan and the dog. And discipline, +therefore, did not suffer much, after all. + +At one post after another, a sentinel was relieved and a fresh man took +his place. Farthest in front of the "Here-We-Comes" lines--and nearest +to the German--was posted a lanky Missourian whom Bruce liked, a man +who had a way of discovering in his deep pockets stray bits of food +which he had hoarded there for the collie and delighted to dole out to +him. The Missourian had a drawlingly soft voice the dog liked, and he +used to talk to Bruce as if the latter were another human. + +For all these reasons--and because Mahan was too busy and too grumpy to +bother with him--Bruce elected to stay where he was, for a while, and +share the Missourian's vigil. So, when the rest of the party moved +along to the next sentry-go, the dog remained. The Missourian was only +too glad to have him do so. It is tedious and stupid to pace a desolate +beat, alone, at dead of night, after a day of hard fighting. And the +man welcomed the companionship of the dog. + +For a time, as the Missourian paced his solitary stretch of broken and +shrub-grown ground, Bruce gravely paced to and fro at his side. But +presently this aimless promenade began to wax uninteresting. And, as +the two came to the far end of the beat, Bruce yawned and lay down. It +was pleasanter to lie there and to watch the sentinel do the walking. + +Stretched out, in a little grass-hollow, the dog followed blinkingly +with his soft brown eyes the pendulumlike progress of his friend. And +always the dog's plumed tail would beat rhythmic welcome against the +ground as the sentry approached him. + +Thus nearly an hour wore on. A fat moon butted its lazy way through the +smoke-mists of the eastern skyline. + +Then something happened--something that Bruce could readily have +forestalled if the wind had been blowing from the other direction, and +if a dog's eyes were not as nearsighted as his nose is farsmelling. + +The Missourian paused to run his hand caressingly over the collie's +rough mane, and moved on, down the lonely beat. Bruce watched his +receding figure, drowsily. At the end of ninety yards or more, the +Missourian passed by a bunch of low bushes which grew at the near side +of a stretch of hilly and shellpocked ground. He moved past the bushes, +still watched by the somewhat bored dog. + +It was then that Bruce saw a patch of bushshadow detach itself from the +rest, under the glow of the rising moon. The shadow was humpy and +squat. Noiseless, it glided out from among the bushes, close at the +sentry's heels, and crept after him. + +Bruce pricked his ears and started to get up. His curiosity was roused. +The direction of the wind prevented him from smelling out the nature of +the mystery. It also kept his keen hearing from supplying any clue. And +the distance would not permit him to see with any distinctness. + +Still his curiosity was very mild. Surely, if danger threatened, the +sentinel would realize it. For by this time the Shadow was a bare three +feet behind him near enough, by Bruce's system of logic, for the +Missourian to have smelled and heard the pursuer. So Bruce got up, in +the most leisurely fashion, preparatory to strolling across to +investigate. But at almost his first step he saw something that changed +his gracefully slouching walk into a charging run. + +The Shadow suddenly had merged with the sentinel. For an instant, in +stark silence, the two seemed to cling together. Then the Shadow fled, +and the lanky Missourian slumped to the earth in a sprawling heap, his +throat cut. + +The slayer had been a deft hand at the job. No sound had escaped the +Missourian, from the moment the stranglingly tight left arm had been +thrown around his throat from behind until, a second later, he fell +bleeding and lifeless. + +In twenty leaping strides, Bruce came up to the slain sentinel and bent +over him. Dog-instinct told the collie his friend had been done to +death. And the dog's power of scent told him it was a German who had +done the killing. + +For many months, Bruce had been familiar with the scent of German +soldiers, so different from that of the army in which he toiled. And he +had learned to hate it, even as a dog hates the vague "crushed +cucumber" smell of a pitviper. But while every dog dreads the +viper-smell as much as he loathes it, Bruce had no fear at all of the +boche odor. Instead, it always awoke in him a blood-lust, as fierce as +any that had burned in his wolf-ancestors. + +This same fury swept him now, as he stood, quivering, above the body of +the kindly man who so lately had petted him; this and a craving to +revenge the murder of his human friend. + +For the briefest time, Bruce stood there, his dark eyes abrim with +unhappiness and bewilderment, as he gazed down on the huddled form in +the wet grass. Then an electric change came over him. The softness fled +from his eyes, leaving them bloodshot and blazing. His great tawny ruff +bristled like an angry cat's. The lazy gracefulness departed from his +mighty body. It became tense and terrible. In the growing moonlight his +teeth gleamed whitely from under his upcurled lip. + +In a flash he turned and set off at a loping run, nose close to ground, +his long stride deceptively swift. The zest of the man-hunt had +obsessed him, as completely as, that day, it had spurred the advance of +the "Here-We-Comes." + +The trail of the slayer was fresh, even over such broken ground. Fast +as the German had fled, Bruce was flying faster. Despite the murderer's +long start, the dog speedily cut down the distance between his quarry +and himself. Not trusting to sight, but solely to his unerring sense of +smell. Bruce sped on. + +Then, in a moment or two, his hearing re-enforced his scent. He could +catch the pad-pad-pad of running feet. And the increasing of the sound +told him he was gaining fast. + +But in another bound his ears told him something else--something he +would have heard much sooner, had not the night wind been setting so +strongly in the other direction. He heard not only the pounding of his +prey's heavy-shod feet, but the soft thud of hundreds--perhaps +thousands--of other army shoes. And now, despite the adverse wind, the +odor of innumerable soldiers came to his fiercely sniffing nostrils. +Not only was it the scent of soldiers, but of German soldiers. + +For the first time, Bruce lifted his head from the ground, as he ran, +and peered in front of him. The moon had risen above the low-lying +horizon vapors into a clear sky, and the reach of country was sharply +visible. + +Bruce saw the man he was chasing,--saw him plainly. The German was +still running, but not at all as one who flees from peril. He ran, +rather, as might the bearer of glad tidings. And he was even now +drawing up to a group of men who awaited eagerly his coming. There must +have been fifty men in the group. Behind them--in open formation and as +far as the dog's near-sighted eyes could see--were more men, and more, +and more--thousands of them, all moving stealthily forward. + +Now, a collie (in brain, though never in heart) is much more wolf than +dog. A bullterrier, or an Airedale, would have charged on at his foe, +and would have let himself be hacked to pieces before loosing his hold +on the man. + +But--even as a wolf checks his pursuit of a galloping sheep when the +latter dashes into the guarded fold--Bruce came to an abrupt halt, at +sight of these reenforcements. He stood irresolute, still mad with +vengeful anger, but not foolish enough to assail a whole brigade of +armed men. + +It is quite impossible (though Mahan and Vivier used to swear it must +be true) that Bruce had the reasoning powers to figure out the whole +situation which confronted him. He could not have known that a German +brigade had been sent to take advantage of the "Here-We-Comes" +temporarily isolated position--that three sentries had been killed in +silence and that their deaths had left a wide gap through which the +brigade hoped to creep unobserved until they should be within striking +distance of their unsuspectingly slumbering victims. + +Bruce could not have known this. He could not have grasped the +slightest fraction of the idea, being only a real-life dog and not a +fairytale animal. But what he could and did realize was that a mass of +detested Germans was moving toward him, and that he could not hope to +attack them, single-handed; also, that he was not minded to slink +peacefully away and leave his friend unavenged. + +Thwarted rage dragged from his furry throat a deep growl; a growl that +resounded eerily through that silent place of stealthy moves. And he +stepped majestically forth from the surrounding long grass, into the +full glare of moonlight. + +The deceptive glow made him loom gigantic and black, and tinged his +snowy chest with the phosphorous gleam of a snowfield. His eyes shone +like a wild beast's. + + * * * * * + +Corporal Rudolph Freund, of the Konigin Luise Regiment, had just +finished his three-word report to his superior. He had merely saluted +and announced + +"He is dead!" + +Corporal Freund did not thrill, as usual, to the colonel's grunt of +approval. The Corporal was worried. He was a Black Forest peasant; and, +while iron military life had dulled his native superstitions, it had +not dispelled them. + +The night was mystic, in its odd blend of moon and shadows. However +hardened one may be, it is a nerve-strain to creep through long grass, +like a red Indian, to the murder of a hostile sentinel. And every +German in the "Pocket" had been under frightful mental and physical +stress, for the past week. + +Corporal Rudolph Freund was a brave man and a brute. But that week had +sapped his nerve. And the work of this night had been the climax. The +desolate ground, over which he had crawled to the killing, had suddenly +seemed peopled with evil gnomes and goblins, whose existence no true +Black Forest peasant can doubt. And, on the run back, he had been +certain he heard some unseen monster tearing through the underbrush in +hot pursuit of him. So certain had he been, that he had redoubled his +speed. + +There were no wolves or other large wild animals in that region. When +he had wriggled toward the slow-pacing American sentinel, he had seen +and heard no creature of any sort. Yet he was sure that on the way back +he had been pursued by--by Something! And into his scared memory, as he +ran, had flashed the ofttold Black Forest tale of the Werewolf--the +devil--beast that is entered by the soul of a murdered man and which +tracks the murderer to his death. + +Glad was the unnerved Corporal Freund when his run ceased and he stood +close to his grossly solid and rank-scented fellowmen once more. Almost +he was inclined to laugh at his fears of the fabled Werewolf--and +especially at the idea that he had been pursued. He drew a long breath +of relief. He drew the breath in. But he did not at once expel it. For +on his ears came the sound of a hideous menacing growl. + +Corporal Freund spun about, in the direction of the mysterious threat. +And there, not thirty feet from him, in the ghostly moonlight, stood +the Werewolf! + +This time there could be no question of overstrained nerves and of +imagination. The Thing was THERE! + +Horribly visible in every detail, the Werewolf was glaring at him. He +could see the red glow of the gigantic devil-beast's eyes, the white +flash of its teeth, the ghostly shimmering of its snowy chest. The soul +of the man he had slain had taken this traditional form and was hunting +down the slayer! A thousand stories of Freund's childhood verified the +frightful truth. And overwrought human nature's endurance went to +pieces under the shock. + +A maniac howl of terror split the midnight stillness. Shriek after +shriek rent the air. Freund tumbled convulsively to the ground at his +colonel's feet, gripping the officer's booted knees and screeching for +protection. The colonel, raging that the surprise attack should be +imperiled by such a racket, beat the frantic man over the mouth with +his heavy fist, kicking ferociously at his upturned writhing face, and +snarling to him to be silent. + +The shower of blows brought Freund back to sanity, to the extent of +changing his craven terror into Fear's secondary phase--the impulse to +strike back at the thing that had caused the fright. Rolling over and +over on the ground, under the impact of his superior's fist blows and +kicks, Freund somehow regained his feet. + +Reeling up to the nearest soldier, the panic-crazed corporal snatched +the private's rifle and fired three times, blindly, at Bruce. Then, +foaming at the mouth, Freund fell heavily to earth again, chattering +and twitching in a fit. + +Bruce, at the second shot, leaped high in the air, and collapsed, in an +inert furry heap, among the bushes. There he lay,--his career as a +courier-dog forever ended. + +Corporal Rudolph Freund was perhaps the best sniper in his regiment. +Wildly though he had fired, marksman-instinct had guided his bullets. +And at such close range there was no missing. Bruce went to earth with +one rifle ball through his body, and another in his leg. A third had +reached his skull. + +Now, the complete element of surprise was all-needful for the attack +the Germans had planned against the "Here-We-Comes." Deprived of that +advantage the expedition was doomed to utter failure. For, given a +chance to wake and to rally, the regiment could not possibly be +"rushed," in vivid moonlight, before the nearest Allied forces could +move up to its support. And those forces were only a mile or so to the +rear. There can be no possible hope for a surprise attack upon a +well-appointed camp when the night's stillness has been shattered by a +series of maniac screams and by three echoing rifle-shots. + +Already the guard was out. A bugle was blowing. In another minute, the +sentry-calls would locate the gap made by the three murdered sentinels. + +A swift guttural conference among the leaders of the gray-clad +marauders was followed by the barking of equally guttural commands. And +the Germans withdrew as quietly and as rapidly as they had come. + + * * * * * + +It was the mouthing and jabbering of the fit-possessed Corporal Rudolph +Freund that drew to him the notice of a squad of Yankees led by +Top-Sergeant Mahan, ten minutes later. It was the shudder--accompanied +pointing of the delirious man's finger, toward the nearby clump of +undergrowth, that revealed to them the still warm body of Bruce. + +Back to camp, carried lovingly in Mahan's strong arms, went all that +was left of the great courier-dog. Back to camp, propelled between two +none-too-gentle soldiers, staggered the fit-ridden Corporal Freund. + +At the colonel's quarters, a compelling dose of stimulant cleared some +of the mists from the prisoner's brain. His nerve and his will-power +still gone to smash, he babbled eagerly enough of the night attack, of +the killing of the sentries and of his encounter with the Werewolf. + +"I saw him fall!" he raved. "But he is not dead. The Werewolf can be +killed only by a silver bullet, marked with a cross and blessed by a +priest. He will live to track me down! Lock me where he cannot find me, +for the sake of sweet mercy!" + +And in this way, the "Here-We-Comes" learned of Bruce's part in the +night's averted disaster. + +Old Vivier wept unashamed over the body of the dog he had loved. +Top-Sergeant Mahan--the big tears splashing, unnoted, from his own red +eyes--besought the Frenchman to strive for better self-control and not +to set a cry-baby example to the men. + +Then a group of grim-faced soldiers dug a grave. And, carried by Mahan +and Vivier, the beautiful dog's body was borne to its resting-place. A +throng of men in the gray dawn stood wordless around the grave. Some +one shamefacedly took off his hat. With equal shamefacedness, everybody +else followed the example. + +Mahan laid the dog's body on the ground, at the grave's brink. Then, +looking about him, he cleared his throat noisily and spoke. + +"Boys," he began, "when a human dies for other humans, there's a +Christian burial service read over him. I'd have asked the chaplain to +read one over Bruce, here, if I hadn't known he'd say no. But the Big +Dog isn't going to rest without a word said over his grave, for all +that." + +Mahan cleared his throat noisily once more, winked fast, then went on:-- + +"You can laugh at me, if any of you feel like it. But there's some of +you here who wouldn't be alive to laugh, if Bruce hadn't done what he +did last night. He was only just a dog--with no soul, and with no life +after this one, I s'pose. So he went ahead and did his work and took +the risks, and asked no pay. + +"And by and by he died, still doing his work and asking no pay. + +"He didn't work with the idea of getting a cross or a ribbon or a +promotion or a pension or his name in the paper or to make the crowd +cheer him when he got back home, or to brag to the homefolks about how +he was a hero. He just went ahead and WAS a hero. That's because he was +only a dog, with no soul--and not a man. + +"All of us humans are working for some reward, even if it's only for +our pay or for the fun of doing our share. But Bruce was a hero because +he was just a dog, and because he didn't know enough to be anything +else but a hero. + +"I've heard about him, before he joined up with us. I guess most of us +have. He lived up in Jersey, somewhere. With folks that had bred him. +I'll bet a year's pay he was made a lot of by those folks; and that it +wrenched 'em to let him go. You could see he'd been brought up that +way. Life must 'a' been pretty happy for the old chap, back there. Then +he was picked up and slung into the middle of this hell. + +"So was the rest of us, says you. But you're wrong. Those of us that +waited for the draft had our choice of going to the hoosgow, as +'conscientious objectors,' if we didn't want to fight. And every +mother's son of us knew we was fighting for the Right; and that we was +making the world a decenter and safer place for our grandchildren and +our womenfolks to live in. We didn't brag about God being on our side, +like the boches do. It was enough for us to know WE was on GOD'S side +and fighting His great fight for Him. We had patriotism and religion +and Right, behind us, to give us strength. + +"Brucie hadn't a one of those things. He didn't know what he was here +for--and why he'd been pitched out of his nice home, into all this. He +didn't have a chance to say Yes or No. He didn't have any spellbinders +to tell him he was making the world safe for d'mocracy. He was MADE to +come. + +"How would any of us humans have acted, if a deal like that had been +handed to us? We'd 'a' grouched and slacked and maybe deserted. That's +because we're lords of creation and have souls and brains and such. +What did Bruce do? He jumped into this game, with bells on. He risked +his life a hundred times; and he was just as ready to risk it again the +next day. + +"Yes, and he knew he was risking it, too. There's blame little he +didn't know. He saw war-dogs, all around him, choking to death from +gas, or screaming their lives out, in No Man's Land, when a bit of +shell had disemboweled 'em or a bullet had cracked their backbones. He +saw 'em starve to death. He saw 'em one bloody mass of scars and sores. +He saw 'em die of pneumonia and mange and every rotten trench disease. +And he knew it might be his turn, any time at all, to die as they were +dying; and he knew the humans was too busy nursing other humans, to +have time to spare on caring for tortured dogs. (Though those same dogs +were dying for the humans, if it comes to that.) + +"Yes, Bruce knew what the end was bound to be. He knew it. And he kept +on, as gay and as brave as if he was on a day's romp. He never +flinched. Not even that time the K.O. sent him up the hill for +reenforcements at Rache, when every sharpshooter in the boche trenches +was laying for him, and when the machine guns were trained on him, too. +Bruce knew he was running into death--, then and a dozen other times. +And he went at it like a white man. + +"I'm--I'm getting longwinded. And I'll stop. But--maybe if you boys +will remember the Big Dog--and what he did for us,--when you get back +home,--if you'll remember him and what he did and what thousands of +other war-dogs have done,--then maybe you'll be men enough to punch the +jaw of any guy who gets to saying that dogs are nuisances and that +vivisection's a good thing, and all that. If you'll just do that much, +then--well, then Bruce hasn't lived and died for nothing! + +"Brucie, old boy," bending to lift the tawny body and lower it into the +grave, "it's good-by. It's good-by to the cleanest, whitest pal that a +poor dub of a doughboy ever had. I--" + +Mahan glowered across at the clump of silent men. + +"If anybody thinks I'm crying," he continued thickly, "he's a liar. I +got a cold, and--" + +"Sacre bon Dieu!" yelled old Vivier, insanely. "Regarde-donc! Nom d'une +pipe!" + +He knelt quickly beside the body, in an ecstasy of excitement. The +others craned their necks to see. Then from a hundred throats went up a +gasp of amazement. + +Bruce, slowly and dazedly, was lifting his magnificent head! + +"Chase off for the surgeon!" bellowed Mahan, plumping down on his knees +beside Vivier and examining the wound in the dog's scalp. "The bullet +only creased his skull! It didn't go through! It's just put him out for +a few hours, like I've seen it do to men. Get the surgeon! If that +bullet in his body didn't hit something vital, we'll pull him around, +yet! GLORY BE!" + + * * * * * + +It was late summer again at The Place, late opulent summer, with the +peace of green earth and blue sky, the heavy droning of bees and the +promise of harvest. The long shadows of late afternoon stretched +lovingly across the lawn, from the great lakeside trees. Over +everything brooded a dreamy amber light. The war seemed a million miles +away. + +The Mistress and the Master came down from the vine-shaded veranda for +their sunset walk through the grounds. At sound of their steps on the +gravel, a huge dark-brown-and-white collie emerged from his +resting-place under the wistaria-arbor. + +He stretched himself lazily, fore and aft, in collie-fashion. Then he +trotted up to his two deities and thrust his muzzle playfully into the +Mistress's palm, as he fell into step with the promenaders. + +He walked with a stiffness in one foreleg. His gait was not a limp. But +the leg's strength could no longer be relied on for a ten-mile gallop. +Along his forehead was a new-healed bullet-crease. And the fur on his +sides had scarcely yet grown over the mark of the high-powered ball +which had gone clear through him without touching a mortal spot. + +Truly, the regimental surgeon of the "Here-We-Comes" had done a job +worthy of his own high fame! And the dog's wonderful condition had done +the rest. + +Apart from scars and stiffness, Bruce was none the worse for his year +on the battle-front. He could serve no longer as a dashing courier. But +his life as a pet was in no way impaired. + +"Here's something that came by the afternoon mail, Bruce," the Master +greeted him, as the collie ranged alongside. "It belongs to you. Take a +look at it." + +The Master drew from his pocket a leather box, and opened it. On the +oblong of white satin, within the cover, was pinned a very small and +very thin gold medal. But, light as it was, it had represented much +abstinence from estaminets and tobacco-shops, on the part of its donors. + +"Listen," the Master said, holding the medal in front of the collie. +"Listen, while I read you the inscription: 'To Bruce. From some of the +boys he saved from the boches.'" + +Bruce was sniffing the thin gold lozenge interestedly. The inscription +meant nothing to him. But--strong and vivid to his trained nostrils--he +scented on the medal the loving finger-touch of his old friend and +admirer, Top-Sergeant Mahan. + + + +THE END + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bruce, by Albert Payson Terhune + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRUCE *** + +***** This file should be named 2391.txt or 2391.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/9/2391/ + +Produced by Dianne Bean. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Bruce by Albert Payson Terhune + +TO MY TEN BEST FRIENDS: + +Who are far wiser in their way and far better in every way, than +I; and yet who have not the wisdom to know it + +Who do not merely think I am perfect, but who are calmly and +permanently convinced of my perfection;--and this in spite of +fifty disillusions a day + +Who are frantically happy at my coming and bitterly woebegone in +my absence + +Who never bore me and never are bored by me + +Who never talk about themselves and who always listen with +rapturous interest to anything I may say + +Who, having no conventional standards, have no respectability; +and who, having no conventional consciences, have no sins + +Who teach me finer lessons in loyalty, in patience, in true +courtesy, in unselfishness, in divine forgiveness, in pluck and +in abiding good spirits than do all the books I have ever read +and all the other models I have studied + +Who have not deigned to waste time and eyesight in reading a word +of mine and who will not bother to read this verbose tribute to +themselves + +In short, to the most gloriously satisfactory chums who ever +appealed to human vanity and to human desire for companionship + +TO OUR TEN SUNNYBANK COLLIES MY STORY IS GRATEFULLY AND +AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED + + +BRUCE by Albert Payson Terhune + + +CHAPTER I. The Coming Of Bruce + +She was beautiful. And she had a heart and a soul--which were a +curse. For without such a heart and soul, she might have found +the tough life-battle less bitterly hard to fight. + +But the world does queer things--damnable things--to hearts that +are so tenderly all-loving and to souls that are so trustfully +and forgivingly friendly as hers. + +Her "pedigree name" was Rothsay Lass. She was a collie--daintily +fragile of build, sensitive of nostril, furrily tawny of coat. +Her ancestry was as flawless as any in Burke's Peerage. + +If God had sent her into the world with a pair of tulip ears and +with a shade less width of brain-space she might have been +cherished and coddled as a potential bench-show winner, and in +time might even have won immortality by the title of "CHAMPION +Rothsay Lass." + +But her ears pricked rebelliously upward, like those of her +earliest ancestors, the wolves. Nor could manipulation lure their +stiff cartilages into drooping as bench-show fashion demands. The +average show-collie's ears have a tendency to prick. By weights +and plasters, and often by torture, this tendency is overcome. +But never when the cartilage is as unyielding as was Lass's. + +Her graceful head harked back in shape to the days when collies +had to do much independent thinking, as sheep-guards, and when +they needed more brainroom than is afforded by the borzoi skull +sought after by modern bench-show experts. + +Wherefore, Lass had no hope whatever of winning laurels in the +show-ring or of attracting a high price from some rich fancier. +She was tabulated, from babyhood, as a "second"--in other words, +as a faulty specimen in a litter that should have been faultless. + +These "seconds" are as good to look at, from a layman's view, as +is any international champion. And their offspring are sometimes +as perfect as are those of the finest specimens. But, lacking the +arbitrary "points" demanded by show-judges, the "seconds" are +condemned to obscurity, and to sell as pets. + +If Lass had been a male dog, her beauty and sense and lovableness +would have found a ready purchaser for her. For nine pet collies +out of ten are "seconds"; and splendid pets they make for the +most part. + +But Lass, at the very start, had committed the unforgivable sin +of being born a female. Therefore, no pet-seeker wanted to buy +her. Even when she was offered for sale at half the sum asked for +her less handsome brothers, no one wanted her. + +A mare--or the female of nearly any species except the canine-- +brings as high and as ready a price as does the male. But never +the female dog. Except for breeding, she is not wanted. + +This prejudice had its start in Crusader days, some thousand +years ago. Up to that time, all through the civilized world, a +female dog had been more popular as a pet than a male. The +Mohammedans (to whom, by creed, all dogs are unclean) gave their +European foes the first hint that a female dog was the lowest +thing on earth. + +The Saracens despised her, as the potential mother of future +dogs. And they loathed her accordingly. Back to Europe came the +Crusaders, bearing only three lasting memorials of their contact +with the Moslems. One of the three was a sneering contempt for +all female dogs. + +There is no other pet as loving, as quick of wit, as loyal, as +staunchly brave and as companionable as the female collie. She +has all the male's best traits and none of his worst. She has +more in common, too, with the highest type of woman than has any +other animal alive. (This, with all due respect to womanhood.) + +Prejudice has robbed countless dog-lovers of the joy of owning +such a pal. In England the female pet dog has at last begun to +come into her own. Here she has not. The loss is ours. + +And so back to Lass. + +When would-be purchasers were conducted to the puppy-run at the +Rothsay kennels, Lass and her six brethren and sisters were wont +to come galloping to the gate to welcome the strangers. For the +pups were only three months old--an age when every event is +thrillingly interesting, and everybody is a friend. Three times +out of five, the buyer's eye would single Lass from the +rollicking and fluffy mass of puppyhood. + +She was so pretty, so wistfully appealing, so free from fear (and +from bumptiousness as well) and carried herself so daintily, that +one's heart warmed to her. The visitor would point her out. The +kennel-man would reply, flatteringly-- + +"Yes, she sure is one fine pup!" + +The purchaser never waited to hear the end of the sentence, +before turning to some other puppy. The pronoun, "she," had +killed forever his dawning fancy for the little beauty. + +The four males of the litter were soon sold; for there is a brisk +and a steady market for good collie pups. One of the two other +females died. Lass's remaining sister began to "shape up" with +show-possibilities, and was bought by the owner of another +kennel. Thus, by the time she was five months old, Lass was left +alone in the puppy-run. + +She mourned her playmates. It was cold, at night, with no other +cuddly little fur-ball to snuggle down to. It was stupid, with no +one to help her work off her five-months spirits in a romp. And +Lass missed the dozens of visitors that of old had come to the +run. + +The kennel-men felt not the slightest interest in her. Lass meant +nothing to them, except the work of feeding her and of keeping an +extra run in order. She was a liability, a nuisance. + +Lass used to watch with pitiful eagerness for the attendants' +duty-visits to the run. She would gallop joyously up to them, +begging for a word or a caress, trying to tempt them into a romp, +bringing them peaceofferings in the shape of treasured bones she +had buried for her own future use. But all this gained her +nothing. + +A careless word at best--a grunt or a shove at worst were her +only rewards. For the most part, the men with the feed-trough or +the water-pail ignored her bounding and wrigglingly eager welcome +as completely as though she were a part of the kennel +furnishings. Her short daily "exercise scamper" in the open was +her nearest approach to a good time. + +Then came a day when again a visitor stopped in front of Lass's +run. He was not much of a visitor, being a pallid and rather +shabbily dressed lad of twelve, with a brand-new chain and collar +in his hand. + +"You see," he was confiding to the bored kennel-man who had been +detailed by the foreman to take him around the kennels, "when I +got the check from Uncle Dick this morning, I made up my mind, +first thing, to buy a dog with it, even if it took every cent. +But then I got to thinking I'd need something to fasten him with, +so he wouldn't run away before he learned to like me and want to +stay with me. So when I got the check cashed at the store, I got +this collar and chain." + +"Are you a friend of the boss?" asked the kennel-man. + +"The boss?" echoed the boy. "You mean the man who owns this +place? No, sir. But when I've walked past, on the road, I've seen +his 'Collies for Sale' sign, lots of times. Once I saw some of +them being exercised. They were the wonderfulest dogs I ever saw. +So the minute I got the money for the check, I came here. I told +the man in the front yard I wanted to buy a dog. He's the one who +turned me over to you. I wish--OH!" he broke off in rapture, +coming to a halt in front of Lass's run. "Look! Isn't he a +dandy?" + +Lass had trotted hospitably forward to greet the guest. Now she +was standing on her hind legs, her front paws alternately +supporting her fragile weight on the wire of the fence and waving +welcomingly toward the boy. Unknowingly, she was bidding for a +master. And her wistful friendliness struck a note of response in +the little fellow's heart. For he, too, was lonesome, much of the +time, as is the fate of a sickly only child in an overbusy home. +And he had the true craving of the lonely for dog comradeship. + +He thrust his none-too-clean hand through the wire mesh and +patted the puppy's silky head. Lass wiggled ecstatically under +the unfamiliar caress. All at once, in the boy's eyes, she became +quite the most wonderful animal and the very most desirable pet +on earth. + +"He's great!" sighed the youngster in admiration; adding naïvely: +"Is he Champion Rothsay Chief--the one whose picture was in The +Bulletin last Sunday?" + +The kennel-man laughed noisily. Then he checked his mirth, for +professional reasons, as he remembered the nature of the boy's +quest and foresaw a bare possibility of getting rid of the +unwelcome Lass. + +"Nope," he said. "This isn't Chief. If it was, I guess your Uncle +Dick's check would have to have four figures in it before you +could make a deal. But this is one of Chief's daughters. This is +Rothsay Lass. A grand little girl, ain't she? Say,"--in a +confidential whisper,--"since you've took a fancy for her, maybe +I could coax the old man into lettin' you have her at an easy +price. He was plannin' to sell her for a hundred or so. But he +goes pretty much by what I say. He might let her go for--How much +of a check did you say your uncle sent you?" + +"Twelve dollars," answered the boy,--"one for each year. Because +I'm named for him. It's my birthday, you know. But--but a dollar +of it went for the chain and the collar. How much do you suppose +the gentleman would want for Rothsay Lass?" + +The kennel-man considered for a moment. Then he went back to the +house, leaving the lad alone at the gate of the run. Eleven +dollars, for a high-pedigreed collie pup, was a joke price. But +no one else wanted Lass, and her feed was costing more every day. +According to Rothsay standards, the list of brood-females was +already complete. Even as a gift, the kennels would be making +money by getting rid of the prick-eared "second." Wherefore he +went to consult with the foreman. + +Left alone with Lass, the boy opened the gate and went into the +run. A little to his surprise Lass neither shrank from him nor +attacked him. She danced about his legs in delight, varying this +by jumping up and trying to lick his excited face. Then she +thrust her cold nose into the cup of his hand as a plea to be +petted. + +When the kennel-man came back, the boy was sitting on the dusty +ground of the run, and Lass was curled up rapturously in his lap, +learning how to shake hands at his order. + +"You can have her, the boss says," vouchsafed the kennel-man. +"Where's the eleven dollars?" + +By this graceless speech Dick Hazen received the key to the +Seventh Paradise, and a life-membership in the world-wide Order +of Dog-Lovers. + +The homeward walk, for Lass and her new master, was no walk at +all, but a form of spiritual levitation. The half-mile pilgrimage +consumed a full hour of time. Not that Lass hung back or rebelled +at her first taste of collar and chain! These petty annoyances +went unfelt in the wild joy of a real walk, and in the infinitely +deeper happiness of knowing her friendship-famine was appeased at +last. + +The walk was long for various reasons--partly because, in her +frisking gyrations, Lass was forever tangling the new chain +around Dick's thin ankles; partly because he stopped, every block +or so, to pat her or to give her further lessons in the art of +shaking hands. Also there were admiring boy-acquaintances along +the way, to whom the wonderful pet must be exhibited. + +At last Dick turned in at the gate of a cheap bungalow on a cheap +street--a bungalow with a discouraged geranium plot in its +pocket-handkerchief front yard, and with a double line of drying +clothes in the no larger space behind the house. + +As Dick and his chum rounded the house, a woman emerged from +between the two lines of flapping sheets, whose hanging she had +been superintending. She stopped at sight of her son and the dog. + +"Oh!" she commented with no enthusiasm at all. "Well, you did it, +hey? I was hoping you'd have better sense, and spend your check +on a nice new suit or something. He's kind of pretty, though," +she went on, the puppy's friendliness and beauty wringing the +word of grudging praise from her. "What kind of a dog is he? And +you're sure he isn't savage, aren't you?" + +"Collie," answered Dick proudly. "Pedigreed collie! You bet she +isn't savage, either. Why, she's an angel. She minds me already. +See--shake hands, Lass!" "Lass!" ejaculated Mrs. Hazen. "'SHE!' +Dick, you don't mean to tell me you've gone and bought yourself +a--a FEMALE dog?" + +The woman spoke in the tone of horrified contempt that might well +have been hers had she found a rattlesnake and a brace of toads +in her son's pocket. And she lowered her voice, as is the manner +of her kind when forced to speak of the unspeakable. She moved +back from the puppy's politely out-thrust forepaw as from the +passing of a garbage cart. + +"A female dog!" she reiterated. "Well, of all the chuckle-heads! +A nasty FEMALE dog, with your birthday money!" + +"She's not one bit nasty!" flamed Dick, burying the grubby +fingers of his right hand protectively in the fluffy mass of the +puppy's half-grown ruff. "She's the dandiest dog ever! She--" + +"Don't talk back to me!" snapped Mrs. Hazen. "Here! Turn right +around and take her to the cheats who sold her to you. Tell them +to keep her and give you the good money you paid for her. Take +her out of my yard this minute! Quick!" + +A hot mist of tears sprang into the boy's eyes. Lass, with the +queer intuition that tells a female collie when her master is +unhappy, whined softly and licked his clenched hand. + +"I--aw, PLEASE, Ma!" he begged chokingly. "PLEASE! It's--it's my +birthday, and everything. Please let me keep her. I--I love her +better than 'most anything there is. Can't I please keep her? +Please!" + +"You heard what I said," returned his mother curtly. + +The washerwoman, who one day a week lightened Mrs. Hazen's +household labors, waddled into view from behind the billows of +wind-swirled clothes. She was an excellent person, and was built +for endurance rather than for speed. At sight of Lass she paused +in real interest. + +"My!" she exclaimed with flattering approval. "So you got your +dog, did you? You didn't waste no time. And he's sure a handsome +little critter. Whatcher goin' to call him?" + +"It's not a him, Irene," contradicted Mrs. Hazen, with another +modest lowering of her strong voice. "It's a HER. And I'm sending +Dick back with her, to where she came from. I've got my opinion +of people who will take advantage of a child's ignorance, by +palming off a horrid female dog on him, too. Take her away, Dick. +I won't have her here another minute. You hear me?" + +"Please, Ma!" stammered Dick, battling with his desire to cry. +"Aw, PLEASE! I--I--" + +"Your ma's right, Dick," chimed in the washerwoman, her first +interested glance at the puppy changing to one of refined and +lofty scorn. "Take her back. You don't want any female dogs +around. No nice folks do." + +"Why not?" demanded the boy in sudden hopeless anger as he +pressed lovingly the nose Lass thrust so comfortingly into his +hand. "WHY don't we want a female dog around? Folks have female +cats around them, and female women. Why isn't a female dog--" + +"That will do, Dick!" broke in his shocked mother. "Take her +away." + +"I won't," said the boy, speaking very slowly, and with no +excitement at all. + +A slap on the side of his head, from his mother's punitive palm, +made him stagger a little. Her hand was upraised for a second +installment of rebellion-quelling--when a slender little body +flashed through the air and landed heavily against her chest. A +set of white puppy-teeth all but grazed her wrathful red face. + +Lass, who never before had known the impulse to attack, had +jumped to the rescue of the beaten youngster whom she had adopted +as her god. The woman screeched in terror. Dick flung an arm +about the furry whirlwind that was seeking to avenge his +punishment, and pulled the dog back to his side. + +Mrs. Hazen's shriek, and the obbligato accompaniment of the +washerwoman, made an approaching man quicken his steps as he +strolled around the side of the house. The newcomer was Dick's +father, superintendent of the local bottling works. On his way +home to lunch, he walked in on a scene of hysteria. + +"Kill her, sir!" bawled the washerwoman, at sight of him. "Kill +her! She's a mad dog. She just tried to kill Miz' Hazen!" + +"She didn't do anything of the kind!" wailed Dick. "She was +pertecting me. Ma hit me; and Lass--" + +"Ed!" tearily proclaimed Mrs. Hazen, "if you don't send for a +policeman to shoot that filthy beast, I'll--" + +"Hold on!" interrupted the man, at a loss to catch the drift of +these appeals, by reason of their all being spoken in a +succession so rapid as to make a single blurred sentence. "Hold +on! What's wrong? And where did the pup come from? He's a looker, +all right a cute little cuss. What's the row?" + +With the plangently useless iterations of a Greek chorus, the +tale was flung at him, piecemeal and in chunks, and in a triple +key. When presently he understood, Hazen looked down for a moment +at the puppy--which was making sundry advances of a shy but +friendly nature toward him. Then he looked at the boy, and noted +Dick's hero-effort to choke back the onrush of babyish sobs. And +then, with a roughly tolerant gesture, he silenced the two +raucous women, who were beginning the tale over again for the +third time. + +"I see," he said. "I see. I see how it is. Needn't din it at me +any more, folks. And I see Dicky's side of it, too. Yes, and I +see the pup's side of it. I know a lot about dogs. That pup isn't +vicious. She knows she belongs to Dick. You lammed into him, and +she took up and defended him. That's all there is to the 'mad- +dog' part of it." + +"But Ed--" sputtered his wife. + +"Now, you let ME do the talking, Sade!" he insisted, half- +grinning, yet more than half grimly. "I'm the boss here. If I'm +not, then it's safe to listen to me till the boss gets here. And +we're goin' to do whatever I say we are--without any back-talk or +sulks, either. It's this way: Your brother gave the boy a +birthday check. We promised he could spend it any way he had a +mind to. He said he wanted a dog, didn't he? And I said, 'Go to +it!' didn't I? Well, he got the dog. Just because it happens to +be a she, that's no reason why he oughtn't to be allowed to keep +it. And he can. That goes." + +"Oh, Dad!" squealed Dick in grateful heroworship. "You're a +brick! I'm not ever going to forget this, so long as I live. Say, +watch her shake hands, Dad! I've taught her, already, to--" + +"Ed Hazen!" loudly protested his wife. "Of all the softies! You +haven't backbone enough for a prune. And if my orders to my own +son are going to be--" + +"That'll be all, Sade!" interposed the man stiffly--adding: "By +the way, I got a queer piece of news to tell you. Come into the +kitchen a minute." + +Grumbling, rebellious, scowling,--yet unable to resist the lure +of a "queer piece of news," Mrs. Hazen followed her husband +indoors, leaving Dick and his pet to gambol deliriously around +the clothes-festooned yard in celebration of their victory. + +"Listen here, old girl!" began Hazen the moment the kitchen door +was shut behind them. "Use some sense, can't you? I gave you the +wink, and you wouldn't catch on. So I had to make the grandstand +play. I'm no more stuck on having a measly she-dog around here +than you are. And we're not going to have her, either. But--" + +"Then why did you say you were going to? Why did you make a fool +of me before Irene and everything?" she demanded, wrathful yet +bewildered. + +"It's the boy's birthday, isn't it?" urged Hazen. "And I'd +promised him, hadn't I? And, last time he had one of those +'turns,' didn't Doc Colfax say we mustn't let him fret and worry +any more'n we could help? Well, if he had to take that dog back +to-day, it'd have broke his heart. He'd have felt like we were +his enemies, and he'd never have felt the same to us again. And +it might have hurt his health too--the shock and all. So--" + +"But I tell you," she persisted, "I won't have a dirty little +female--" + +"We aren't going to," he assured her. "Keep your hair on, till +I've finished. Tonight, after Dick's asleep, I'm going to get rid +of her. He'll wake up in the morning and find she's gone; and the +door'll be open. He'll think she's run away. He'll go looking for +her, and he'll keep on hoping to find her. So that'll ease the +shock, you see, by letting him down bit by bit, instead of +snatching his pet away from him violent-like. And he won't hold +it up against US, either, as he would the other way. I can offer +a reward for her, too." + +There was a long and thought-crammed pause. The woman plunged +deep into the silences as her fat brain wrought over the +suggestion. Then-- + +"Maybe you HAVE got just a few grains of sense, after all, Ed," +grudgingly vouchsafed Mrs. Hazen. "It isn't a bad idea. Only +he'll grieve a lot for her." + +"He'll be hoping, though," said her husband. "He'll be hoping all +the while. That always takes the razor-edge off of grieving. +Leave it to me." + +That was the happiest day Dick Hazen had ever known. And it was +the first actively happy day in all Lass's five months of life. + +Boy and dog spent hours in a ramble through the woods. They began +Lass's education--which was planned to include more intricate +tricks than a performing elephant and a troupe of circus dogs +could hope to learn in a lifetime. They became sworn chums. Dick +talked to Lass as if she were human. She amazed the enraptured +boy by her cleverness and spirits. His initiation to the dog- +masters' guild was joyous and complete. + +It was a tired and ravenous pair of friends who scampered home at +dinner-time that evening. The pallor was gone from Dick's face. +His cheeks were glowing, and his eyes shone. He ate greedily. His +parents looked covertly at each other. And the self-complacency +lines around Hazen's mouth blurred. + +Boy and dog went to bed early, being blissfully sleepy and full +of food--also because another and longer woodland ramble was +scheduled for the morrow. + +Timidly Dick asked leave to have Lass sleep on the foot of his +cot-bed. After a second telegraphing of glances, his parents +consented. Half an hour later the playmates were sound asleep, +the puppy snuggling deep in the hollow of her master's arm, her +furry head across his thin chest. + +It was in this pose that Hazen found them when, late in the +evening, he tiptoed into Dick's cubby-hole room. He gazed down at +the slumberous pair for a space, while he fought and conquered an +impulse toward fair play. Then he stooped to pick up the dog. + +Lass, waking at the slight creak of a floorboard, lifted her +head. At sight of the figure leaning above her adored master, the +lip curled back from her white teeth. Far down in her throat a +growl was born. Then she recognized the intruder as the man who +had petted her and fed her that evening. The growl died in her +throat, giving place to a welcoming thump or two of her bushy +tail. Dick stirred uneasily. + +Patting the puppy lightly on her upraised head, Hazen picked up +Lass in his arms and tiptoed out of the room with her. Mistaking +this move for a form of caress, she tried to lick his face. The +man winced. + +Downstairs and out into the street Hazen bore his trustful little +burden, halting only to put on his hat, and for a whispered word +with his wife. For nearly a mile he carried the dog. Lass greatly +enjoyed the ride. She was pleasantly tired, and it was nice to be +carried thus, by some one who was so considerate as to save her +the bother of walking. + +At the edge of the town, Hazen set her on the ground and at once +began to walk rapidly away in the direction of home. He had gone +perhaps fifty yards when Lass was gamboling merrily around his +feet. A kick sent the dismayed and agonized puppy flying through +the air like a whimpering catapult, and landed her against a bank +with every atom of breath knocked out of her. Before she had +fairly struck ground,--before she could look about her,--Hazen +had doubled around a corner and had vanished. + +At a run, he made for home, glad the unpleasant job was over. At +the door his wife met him. + +"Well," she demanded, "did you drown her in the canal, the way +you said?" + +"No," he confessed sheepishly, "I didn't exactly drown her. You +see, she nestled down into my arms so cozy and trusting-like, +that I--well, I fixed it so she'll never show up around here +again. Trust me to do a job thoroughly, if I do it at all. I--" + +A dramatic gesture from Mrs. Hazen's stubby forefinger +interrupted him. He followed the finger's angry point. Close at +his side stood Lass, wagging her tail and staring expectantly up +at him. + +With her keen power of scent, it had been no exploit at all to +track the man over a mile of unfamiliar ground. Already she had +forgiven the kick or had put it down to accident on his part. And +at the end of her eager chase, she was eager for a word of +greeting. + +"I'll be--" gurgled Hazen, blinking stupidly. + +"I guess you will be," conceded his wife. "If that's the +'thorough' way you do your jobs at the factory--" + +"Say," he mumbled in a sort of wondering appeal, "is there any +HUMAN that would like to trust a feller so much as to risk +another ribcracking kick, just for the sake of being where he is? +I almost wish--" + +But the wish was unspoken. Hazen was a true American husband. He +feared his wife more than he loved fairness. And his wife's glare +was full upon him. With a grunt he picked Lass up by the neck, +tucked her under his arm and made off through the dark. + +He did not take the road toward the canal, however. Instead he +made for the railroad tracks. He remembered how, as a lad, he had +once gotten rid of a mangy cat, and he resolved to repeat the +exploit. It was far more merciful to the puppy--or at least, to +Hazen's conscience,--than to pitch Lass into the slimy canal with +a stone tied to her neck. + +A line of freight cars--"empties"--was on a siding, a short +distance above the station. Hazen walked along the track, trying +the door of each car he passed. The fourth he came to was +unlocked. He slid back the newly greased side door, thrust Lass +into the chilly and black interior and quickly slid shut the door +behind her. Then with the silly feeling of having committed a +crime, he stumbled away through the darkness at top speed. + +A freight car has a myriad uses, beyond the carrying of +legitimate freight. From time immemorial, it has been a favorite +repository for all manner of illicit flotsam and jetsam human or +otherwise. + +Its popularity with tramps and similar derelicts has long been a +theme for comic paper and vaudeville jest. Though, heaven knows, +the inside of a moving box-car has few jocose features, except in +the imagination of humorous artist or vaudevillian! + +But a far more frequent use for such cars has escaped the notice +of the public at large. As any old railroader can testify, +trainhands are forever finding in box-cars every genus and +species of stray. + +These finds range all the way from cats and dogs and discarded +white rabbits and canaries, to goats. Dozens of babies have been +discovered, wailing and deserted, in box-car recesses; perhaps a +hundred miles from the siding where, furtively, the tiny human +bundle was thrust inside some conveniently unlatched side door. + +A freight train offers glittering chances for the disposal of the +Unwanted. More than once a slain man or woman has been sent along +the line, in this grisly but effective fashion, far beyond the +reach of recognition. + +Hazen had done nothing original or new in depositing the luckless +collie pup in one of these wheeled receptacles. He was but +following an old-established custom, familiar to many in his +line of life. There was no novelty to it,--except to Lass. + +The car was dark and cold and smelly. Lass hated it. She ran to +its door. Here she found a gleam of hope for escape and for +return to the home where every one that day had been so kind to +her. Hazen had shut the door with such vehemence that it had +rebounded. The hasp was down, and so the catch had not done its +duty. The door had slid open a few inches from the impetus of +Hazen's shove. + +It was not wide enough open to let Lass jump out, but it was wide +enough for her to push her nose through. And by vigorous +thrusting, with her triangular head as a wedge, she was able to +widen the aperture, inch by inch. In less than three minutes she +had broadened it far enough for her to wriggle out of the car and +leap to the side of the track. There she stood bewildered. + +A spring snow was drifting down from the sulky sky. The air was +damp and penetrating. By reason of the new snow the scent of +Hazen's departing footsteps was blotted out. Hazen himself was no +longer in sight. As Lass had made the journey from house to +tracks with her head tucked confidingly under her kidnaper's arm, +she had not noted the direction. She was lost. + +A little way down the track the station lights were shining with +misty warmth through the snow. Toward these lights the puppy +trotted. + +Under the station eaves, and waiting to be taken aboard the +almost-due eleven-forty express, several crates and parcels were +grouped. One crate was the scene of much the same sort of escape- +drama that Lass had just enacted. + +The crate was big and comfortable, bedded down with soft sacking +and with "insets" at either side containing food and water. But +commodious as was the box, the unwonted confinement did not at +all please its occupant--a temperamental and highly bred young +collie in process of shipment from the Rothsay Kennels to a +purchaser forty miles up the line. + +This collie, wearying of the delay and the loneliness and the +strange quarters, had begun to plunge from one side of the crate +to the other in an effort to break out. A carelessly nailed slat +gave away under the impact. The dog scrambled through the gap and +proceeded to gallop homeward through the snow. + +Ten seconds later, Lass, drawn by the lights and by the scent of +the other dog, came to the crate. She looked in. There, made to +order for her, was a nice bed. There, too, were food and drink to +appease the ever-present appetite of a puppy. Lass writhed her +way in through the gap as easily as the former occupant had +crawled out. + +After doing due justice to the broken puppy biscuits in the +inset-trough, she curled herself up for a nap. + +The clangor and glare of the oncoming express awakened her. She +cowered in one corner of the crate. Just then two station-hands +began to move the express packages out to the edge of the +platform. One of them noticed the displaced board of the crate. +He drove home its loosened nails with two sharp taps from a +monkey-wrench, glanced inside to make certain the dog had not +gotten out, and presently hoisted the crate aboard the express- +car. + +Two hours later the crate was unloaded at a waystation. At seven +in the morning an expressman drove two miles with it to a +country-home, a mile or so from the village where Lass had been +disembarked from the train. + +An eager knot of people--the Mistress, the Master and two +gardeners--crowded expectantly around the crate as it was set +down on the lawn in front of The Place's veranda. The latch was +unfastened, and the crate's top was lifted back on its hinges. + +Out stepped Lass,--tired, confused, a little frightened, but +eagerly willing to make friends with a world which she still +insisted on believing was friendly. It is hard to shake a collie +pup's inborn faith in the friendliness of mankind, but once +shaken, it is more than shaken. It is shattered beyond hope of +complete mending. + +For an instant she stood thus, looking in timid appeal from one +to another of the faces about her. These faces were blank enough +as they returned her gaze. The glad expectancy was wiped from +them as with a sponge. It was the Master who first found voice. + +"And THAT'S Rothsay Princess!" he snorted indignantly. "That's +the pup worth two hundred dollars at eight months, 'because she +has every single good point of Champion Rothsay Chief and not a +flaw from nostril to tail-tip'! Rothsay wrote those very words +about her, you remember. And he's supposed to be the most +dependable man in the collie business! Lord! She's undersized--no +bigger than a five monther! And she's prick-eared and apple- +domed; and her head's as wide as a church door!" + +Apparently these humans were not glad to see her. Lass was +grieved at their cold appraisal and a little frightened by the +Master's tone of disgust. Yet she was eager, as ever, to make a +good impression and to lure people into liking her. Shyly she +walked up to the Mistress and laid one white little paw on her +knee. + +Handshaking was Lass's one accomplishment. It had been taught her +by Dick. It had pleased the boy. He had been proud of her ability +to do it. Perhaps it might also please these strangers. And after +the odd fashion of all new arrivals who came to The Place, Lass +picked out the Mistress, rather than any one else, as a potential +friend. + +The Mistress had ever roused the impatience of collie experts by +looking past the showier "points" of a dog and into the soul and +brain and disposition that lay behind them. So now she looked; +and what she saw in Lass's darkly wistful eyes established the +intruder's status at The Place. + +"Let her stay!" pleaded the Mistress as the Master growled +something about bundling the dog into her crate again and sending +her back to the Rothsay Kennels. "Let her stay, please! She's a +dear." + +"But we're not breeding 'dears,'" observed the Master. "We +planned to breed a strain of perfect collies. And this is a +mutt!" + +"Her pedigree says there's no better collie blood in America," +denied the Mistress. "And even if she happens to be a 'second,' +that's no sign her puppies will be seconds. See how pretty and +loving and wise she is. DO keep her!" + +Which of course settled the matter. + +Up the lawn, from his morning swim in the lake, strolled a great +mahogany-and-white collie. At sight of Lass he lowered his head +for a charge. He was king of The Place's dogs, this mighty +thoroughbred, Sunnybank Lad. And he did not welcome canine +intruders. + +But he halted midway in his dash toward the puppy who frisked +forth so gayly to meet him. For he recognized her as a female. +And man is the only animal that will molest the female of his +species. + +The fiercely silent charge was changed in a trice to a coldly +civil touching of noses, and the majestic wagging of a plumy +tail. After which, side by side, the two collies--big and little +--old and new--walked up to the veranda, to be petted by the +humans who had so amusedly watched their encounter. + +"See!" exclaimed the Mistress, in triumph. "Lad has accepted her. +He vouches for her. That ought to be enough for any one!" + +Thus it was that Lass found a home. + +As she never yet had been taught to know her name, she learned +readily to respond to the title of "Princess." And for several +months life went on evenly and happily for her. + +Indeed, life was always wondrous pleasant, there at The Place,-- +for humans and for animals alike. A fire-blue lake bordered the +grounds on two sides. Behind stretched the forest. And on every +side arose the soft green mountains, hemming in and brooding over +The Place as though they loved it. In the winter evenings there +was the huge library hearth with its blaze and warmth; and a +disreputable fur rug in front of it that might have been ordained +expressly for tired dogs to drowse on. And there were the +Mistress and the Master. Especially the Mistress! The Mistress +somehow had a way of making all the world seem worth while. + +Then, of a morning, when Lass was just eleven months old, two +things happened. + +The Mistress and the Master went down to her kennel after +breakfast. Lass did not run forth to greet them as usual. She lay +still, wagging her tail in feeble welcome as they drew near. But +she did not get up. + +Crowding close to her tawny side was a tiny, shapeless creature +that looked more like a fat blind rat than like anything else. It +was a ten-hour-old collie pup--a male, and yellowish brown of +hue. + +"That's the climax!" complained the Master, breaking in on the +Mistress's rhapsodies. "Here we've been planning to start a +kennel of home-bred collies! And see what results we get! One +solitary puppy! Not once in ten times are there less than six in +a collie-litter. Sometimes there are a dozen. And here the dog +you wheedled me into keeping has just one! I expected at least +seven." + +"If it's a freak to be the only puppy in a litter," answered the +Mistress, refusing to part with her enthusiasm over the miracle, +"then this one ought to bring us luck. Let's call him 'Bruce.' +You remember, the original Bruce won because of the mystic +number, seven. This Bruce has got to make up to us for the seven +puppies that weren't born. See how proud she is of him! Isn't she +a sweet little mother?" + +The second of the morning's events was a visit from the foreman +of the Rothsay Kennels, who motored across to The Place, intent +on clearing up a mystery. + +"The Boss found a collie yesterday, tied in the front yard of a +negro cabin a mile or two from our kennels," he told the Master. +"He recognized her right away as Rothsay Princess. The negro +claims to have found her wandering around near the railroad +tracks, one night, six months ago. Now, what's the answer?" + +"The answer," said the Master, "is that your boss is mistaken. +I've had Rothsay Princess for the past six months. And she's the +last dog I'll ever get from the Rothsay Kennels. I was stung, +good and plenty, on that deal. + +"My wife wanted to keep her, or I'd have made a kick in the +courts for having to pay two hundred dollars for a cheeky, +apple-domed, prick eared--" + +"Prick-eared!" exclaimed the foreman, aghast at the volleyed +sacrilege. "Rothsay Princess has the best ears of any pup we've +bred since Champion Rothsay Chief. Not a flaw in that pup. She--" + +"Not a flaw, hey!" sniffed the Master. "Come down to the kennel +and take a look at her. She has as many flaws as a street-cur has +fleas." + +He led the way to the kennel. At sight of the stranger Lass +growled and showed her teeth. For a collie mother will let nobody +but proven friends come near to her newborn brood. + +The foreman stared at the hostile young mother for a half-minute, +whistling bewilderedly between his teeth. Then he laughed aloud. + +"That's no more Rothsay Princess than I am!" he declared. "I know +who she IS, though. I'd remember that funny mask among a million. +That's Rothsay Lass! Though how she got HERE--! + +"We couldn't have shipped her by mistake, either," he went on, +confused. "For we'd sold her, that same day, to a kid in our +town. I ought to know. Because the kid kept on pestering us every +day for a month afterward, to find if she had come back to us. He +said she ran away in the night. He still comes around, once a +week or so, to ask. A spindly, weak, sick-looking little chap, he +is. I don't get the point of this thing, from any angle. But we +run our kennels on the square. And I can promise the boss'll +either send back your check or send Rothsay Princess to you and +take Lass back." + +Two days later, while all The Place was still mulling over the +mystery, a letter came for the Master from Lass's home town. It +was signed "Edw'd Hazen," and it was written on the cheap +stationery of his employer's bottling works. It read: + +Dear Sir: + +"Six months ago, my son bought a dog from the Rothsay Kennels. It +was a she-dog, and his ma and I didn't want one around. So I put +it aboard a freight-car on the sly. My boy went sick over losing +his dog. He has never rightly got over it, but he peaks and mopes +and gets thinner all the time. If I had known how hard he was +going to take it, I would of cut off my hand before I would of +done such a thing. And my wife feels just like I do about it. We +would both of us have given a hundred dollars to get the dog back +for him, when we saw how bad he felt. But it was too late. +Somehow or other it is most generally too late when a rotten +thing has been done. + +"To-day he went again to the Rothsay Kennels to ask if she had +come back. He has always been hoping she would. And they told him +you have her. Now, sir, I am a poor man, but if one hundred +dollars will make you sell me that dog, I'll send it to you in a +money order by return mail. It will be worth ten times that much, +to my wife and me, to have Dick happy again. I inclose a stamp. +Will you let me know?" + +Six weeks afterward The Place's car brought Dick Hazen across to +receive his long-lost pet. + +The boy was thinner and shakier and whiter than when he had gone +to sleep with his cherished puppy curled against his narrow +chest. But there was a light in his eyes and an eagerness in his +heart that had not been there in many a long week. + +Lass was on the veranda to welcome him. And as Dick scrambled out +of the car and ran to pick her up, she came more than half-way to +meet him. With a flurry of fast-pattering steps and a bark of +eager welcome, she flung herself upon her long-vanished master. +For a highbred collie does not forget. And at first glimpse of +the boy Lass remembered him. + +Dick caught her up in his arms--a harder feat than of yore, +because of her greater weight and his own sapped strength,--and +hugged her tight to his breast. Winking very fast indeed to +disperse tears that had no place in the eyes of a self-contained +man of twelve, he sputtered rapturously: + +"I KNEW I'd find you, Lassie--I knew it all the time;--even the +times when I was deadsure I wouldn't! Gee, but you've grown, +though! And you're beautifuler than ever. Isn't she, Miss?" he +demanded, turning to the Mistress with instinctive knowledge that +here at least he would find confirmation. "Indeed she is!" the +Mistress assured him. + +"And see how glad she is to be with you again! She--" + +"And Dad says she can stay with me, for keeps!" exulted Dick. "He +says he'll put a new lock on the cellar door, so she can't ever +push out again, the way she did, last time. But I guess she's had +her lesson in going out for walks at night and not being able to +find her way back. She and I are going to have the dandiest times +together, that ever happened. Aren't we, Lass? Is that her little +boy?" he broke off, in eager curiosity, as the Master appeared +from the kennels, carrying Bruce. + +The puppy was set down on the veranda floor for Dick's +inspection. + +"He's cunning, isn't he? Kind of like a Teddy Bear,--the sort +kids play with. But," with a tinge of worry, "I'm not sure Ma +will let me keep two. Maybe--" + +"Perhaps," suggested the Mistress, "perhaps you'd like us to keep +little Bruce, to remember Lass by? We'll try to make him very +happy." + +"Yes'm!" agreed Dick, in much haste, his brow clearing from a +mental vision of Mrs. Hazen's face when she should see him return +with twice as many dogs as he had set out for. "Yes'm. If you +wouldn't mind, very much. S'pose we leave it that way? I guess +Bruce'll like being with you, Miss. I--I guess pretty near +anybody would. You'll--you'll try not to be too homesick for +Lass, won't you?" + +On the steps of the veranda the downy and fat puppy watched his +mother's departure with no especial interest. By the Mistress's +wish, Mr. Hazen had not been required to make any part of his +proffered hundred-dollar payment for the return of his boy's pet. +All the Mistress had stipulated was that Lass might be allowed to +remain at The Place until baby Bruce should no longer need her. + +"Bruce," said the Mistress as the car rolled up the drive and out +of sight, "you are the sole visible result of The Place's +experiment in raising prize collies. You have a tremendous +responsibility on those fat little shoulders of yours,--to live +up to it all." + +By way of showing his scorn for such trifles as a "tremendous +responsibility," Bruce proceeded to make a ferocious onslaught at +the Mistress's temperamental gray Persian kitten, "Tipperary," +which was picking a mincing way across the veranda. + +A howl of pain and two scratches on his tiny nose immediately +followed the attack. Tipperary then went on with her mincing +promenade. And Bruce, with loud lamentations, galloped to the +shelter of the Mistress's skirt. + +"Poor little chap!" soothed the Mistress, picking him up and +comforting him. "Responsibility isn't such a joke, after all, is +it, Baby?" + + + +CHAPTER II. The Pest + +Thackeray, as a lad, was dropped from college for laziness and +for gambling. Bismarck failed to get a University degree, because +he lacked power to study and because he preferred midnight beer +to midnight oil. George Washington, in student days, could never +grasp the simplest rules of spelling. The young Lincoln loved to +sprawl in the shade with fish-pole or tattered book, when he +should have been working. + +Now, these men were giants--physically as well as mentally. Being +giants, they were by nature slow of development. + +The kitten, at six months of age, is graceful and compact and of +perfect poise. The lion-cub, at the same age, is a gawky and +foolish and ill-knit mass of legs and fur; deficient in sense and +in symmetry. Yet at six years, the lion and the cat are not to be +compared for power or beauty or majesty or brain, or along any +other lines. + +The foregoing is not an essay on the slow development of the +Great. It is merely a condensation of the Mistress's earnest +arguments against the selling or giving away of a certain +hopelessly awkward and senseless and altogether undesirable +collie pup named Bruce. + +From the very first, the Mistress had been Bruce's champion at +The Place. There was no competition for that office. She and she +alone could see any promise in the shambling youngster. + +Because he had been born on The Place, and because he was the +only son of Rothsay Lass, whom the Mistress had also championed +against strong opposition, it had been decided to keep and raise +him. But daily this decision seemed less and less worth while. +Only the Mistress's championing of the Undesirable prevented his +early banishment. + +From a fuzzy and adventurous fluff-ball of gray-gold-and-white +fur, Bruce swiftly developed into a lanky giant. He was almost as +large again as is the average collie pup of his age; but, big as +he was, his legs and feet and head were huge, out of all +proportion to the rest of him. The head did not bother him. Being +hampered by no weight of brain, it would be navigated with more +or less ease, in spite of its bulk. But the legs and feet were +not only in his own way, but in every one else's. + +He seemed totally lacking in sense, as well as in bodily +coordination. He was forever getting into needless trouble. He +was a stormcenter. No one but a born fool--canine or human--could +possibly have caused one-tenth as much bother. + +The Mistress had named him "Bruce," after the stately Scottish +chieftain who was her history-hero. And she still called him +Bruce--fifty times a day--in the weary hope of teaching him his +name. But every one else on The Place gave him a title instead of +a name--a title that stuck: "The Pest." He spent twenty-four +hours, daily, living up to it. + +Compared with Bruce's helplessly clownish trouble-seeking +propensities, Charlie Chaplin's screen exploits are miracles of +heroic dignity and of good luck. + +There was a little artificial water-lily pool on The Place, +perhaps four feet deep. By actual count, Bruce fell into it no +less than nine times in a single week. Once or twice he had +nearly drowned there before some member of the family chanced to +fish him out. And, learning nothing from experience, he would +fall in again, promptly, the next day. + +The Master at last rigged up a sort of sloping wooden platform, +running from the lip of the pool into the water, so that Bruce +could crawl out easily, next time he should tumble in. Bruce +watched the placing of this platform with much grave interest. +The moment it was completed, he trotted down it on a tour of +investigation. At its lower edge he slipped and rolled into the +pool. There he floundered, with no thought at all of climbing out +as he had got in, until the Master rescued him and spread a wire +net over the whole pool to avert future accidents. + +Thenceforth, Bruce met with no worse mischance, there, than the +perpetual catching of his toe-pads in the meshes of the wire. +Thus ensnared he would stand, howling most lamentably, until his +yells brought rescue. + +Though the pool could be covered with a net, the wide lake at the +foot of the lawn could not be. Into the lake Bruce would wade +till the water reached his shoulders. Then with a squeal of +venturesome joy, he would launch himself outward for a swim; and, +once facing away from shore, he never had sense enough to turn +around. + +After a half-hour of steady swimming, his soft young strength +would collapse. A howl of terror would apprise the world at large +that he was about to drown. Whereat some passing boatman would +pick him up and hold him for ransom, or else some one from The +Place must jump into skiff or canoe and hie with all speed to the +rescue. The same thing would be repeated day after day. + +The local S.P.C.A. threatened to bring action against the Master +for letting his dog risk death, in this way, from drowning. +Morbidly, the Master wished the risk might verge into a +certainty. + +The puppy's ravenous appetite was the wonder of all. He stopped +eating only when there was nothing edible in reach. And as his +ideas of edible food embraced everything that was chewable,--from +bath-towels to axle-grease--he was seldom fasting and was +frequently ill. + +Nature does more for animals than for humans. By a single +experience she warns them, as a rule, what they may safely eat +and what they may not. Bruce was the exception. He would pounce +upon and devour a luscious bit of laundry-soap with just as much +relish as though a similar bit of soap had not made him horribly +sick the day before. + +Once he munched, relishfully, a two-pound box of starch, box and +all; on his recovery, he began upon a second box, and was unhappy +when it was taken from him. + +He would greet members of the family with falsetto-thunderous +barks of challenge as they came down the drive from the highway. +But he would frisk out in joyous welcome to meet and fawn upon +tramps or peddlers who sought to invade The Place. He could +scarce learn his own name. He could hardly be taught to obey the +simplest command. As for shaking hands or lying down at order +(those two earliest bits of any dog's education), they meant no +more to Bruce than did the theory of quadratic equations. + +At three months he launched forth merrily as a chicken-killer; +gleefully running down and beheading The Place's biggest +Orpington rooster. But his first kill was his last. The Master +saw to that. + +There is no use in thrashing a dog for killing poultry. There is +but one practically sure cure for the habit. And this one cure +the Master applied. + +He tied the slain rooster firmly around Bruce's furry throat, and +made the puppy wear it, as a heavy and increasingly malodorous +pendant, for three warm days and nights. + +Before the end of this seventy-two-hour period, Bruce had grown +to loathe the sight and scent of chicken. Stupid as he was, he +learned this lesson with absolute thoroughness,--as will almost +any chicken-killing pup,--and it seemed to be the only teaching +that his unawakened young brain had the power to grasp. + +In looks, too, Bruce was a failure. His yellowish-and-white body +was all but shapeless. His coat was thick and heavy enough, but +it showed a tendency to curl--almost to kink--instead of waving +crisply, as a collie's ought. The head was coarse and blurred in +line. The body was gaunt, in spite of its incessant feedings. As +for contour or style-- + +It was when the Master, in disgust, pointed out these diverse +failings of the pup, that the Mistress was wont to draw on +historic precedent for other instances of slow development, and +to take in vain the names of Thackeray, Lincoln, Washington and +Bismarck and the rest. + +"Give him time!" she urged once. "He isn't quite six months old +yet; and he has grown so terribly fast. Why, he's over two feet +tall, at the shoulder, even now--much bigger than most full-grown +collies. Champion Howgill Rival is spoken of as a 'big' dog; yet +he is only twenty-four inches at the shoulder, Mr. Leighton says. +Surely it's something to own a dog that is so big." + +"It IS 'something,'" gloomily conceded the Master. "In our case +it is a catastrophe. I don't set up to be an expert judge of +collies, so maybe I am all wrong about him. I'm going to get +professional opinion, though. Next week they are going to have +the spring dogshow at Hampton. It's a little hole-in-a-corner +show, of course. But Symonds is to be the all-around judge, +except for the toy breeds. And Symonds knows collies, from the +ground up. I am going to take Bruce over there and enter him for +the puppy class. If he is any good, Symonds will know it. If the +dog is as worthless as I think he is, I'll get rid of him. If +Symonds gives any hope for him, I'll keep him on a while longer." + +"But," ventured the Mistress, "if Symonds says 'Thumbs down,' +then--" + +"Then I'll buy a pet armadillo or an ornithorhynchus instead," +threatened the Master. "Either of them will look more like a +collie than Bruce does." + +"I--I wonder if Mr. Symonds smokes," mused the Mistress under her +breath. + +"Smokes?" echoed the Master. "What's that got to do with it?" + +"I was only wondering," she made hesitant answer, "if a box of +very wonderful cigars, sent to him with our cards, mightn't +perhaps--" + +"It's a fine sportsmanly proposition!" laughed the Master. "When +women get to ruling the world of sport, there'll be no need of +comic cartoons. Genuine photographs will do as well. If it's just +the same to you, dear girl, we'll let Symonds buy his own cigars, +for the present. The dog-show game is almost the only one I know +of where a judge is practically always on the square. People +doubt his judgment, sometimes, but there is practically never any +doubt of his honesty. Besides, we want to get the exact dope on +Bruce. (Not that I haven't got it, already!) If Symonds 'gates' +him, I'm going to offer him for sale at the show. If nobody buys +him there, I'm going--" + +"He hasn't been 'gated' yet," answered the Mistress in calm +confidence. + +At the little spring show, at Hampton, a meager eighty dogs were +exhibited, of which only nine were collies. This collie division +contained no specimens to startle the dog-world. Most of the +exhibits were pets. And like nearly all pets, they were +"seconds"--in other words, the less desirable dogs of +thoroughbred litters. + +Hampton's town hall auditorium was filled to overcrowding, with a +mass of visitors who paraded interestedly along the aisles +between the raised rows of stall-like benches where the dogs were +tied; or who grouped densely around all four sides of the roped +judging-ring in the center of the hall. + +For a dogshow has a wel-nigh universal appeal to humanity at +large; even as the love for dogs is one of the primal and firm- +rooted human emotions. Not only the actual exhibitor and their +countless friends flock to such shows; but the public at large is +drawn thither as to no other function of the kind. + +Horse-racing, it is true, brings out a crowd many times larger +than does a dogshow. But only because of the thrill of winning or +losing money. For where one's spare cash is, there is his heart +and his all-absorbing interest. Yet it is a matter of record that +grass is growing high, on the race-tracks, in such states as have +been able to enforce the anti-betting laws. The "sport of kings" +flourishes only where wagers may accompany it. Remove the betting +element, and you turn your racetrack into a huge and untrodden +lot. + +There is practically no betting connected with any dogshow. +People go there to see the dogs and to watch their judging, and +for nothing else. As a rule, the show is not even a social event. +Nevertheless, the average dogshow is thronged with spectators. +(Try to cross Madison Square Garden, on Washington's Birthday +afternoon, while the Westminster Kennel Club's Show is in +progress. If you can work your way through the press of visitors +in less than half an hour, then Nature intended you for a +football champion.) + +The fortunate absence of a betting-interest alone keeps such +affairs from becoming among the foremost sporting features of the +world. Many of the dogs on view are fools, of course. Because +many of them have been bred solely with a view to show-points. +And their owners and handlers have done nothing to awaken in +their exhibits the half-human brain and heart that is a dog's +heritage. All has been sacrificed to "points"--to points which +are arbitrary and which change as freakily as do fashions in +dress. + +For example, a few years ago, a financial giant collected and +exhibited one of the finest bunches of collies on earth. He had a +competent manager and an army of kennel-men to handle them. He +took inordinate pride in these priceless collies of his. Once I +watched him, at the Garden Show, displaying them to some Wall +Street friends. Three times he made errors in naming his dogs. +Once, when he leaned too close to the star collie of his kennels, +the dog mistook him for a stranger and resented the intrusion by +snapping at him. He did not know his own pets, one from another. +And they did not know their owner, by sight or by scent. + +At the small shows, there is an atmosphere wholly different. Few +of the big breeders bother to compete at such contests. The dogs +are for the most part pets, for which their owners feel a keen +personal affection, and which have been brought up as members of +their masters' households. Thus, if small shows seldom bring +forth a world-beating dog, they at least are full of clever and +humanized exhibits and of men and women to whom the success or +failure of their canine friends is a matter of intensest personal +moment. Wherefore the small show often gives the beholder +something he can find but rarely in a larger exhibition. + +A few dogs genuinely enjoy shows--or are supposed to. To many +others a dogshow is a horror. + +Which windy digression brings us back by prosy degrees to Bruce +and to the Hampton dogshow. + +The collies were the first breed to be judged. And the puppy +class, as usual, was the first to be called to the ring. + +There were but three collie pups, all males. One was a rangy tri- +color of eleven months, with a fair head and a bad coat. The +second was an exquisite six-months puppy, rich of coat, +prematurely perfect of head, and cowhocked. These two and Bruce +formed the puppy class which paraded before Symonds in the oblong +ring. + +"Anyhow," whispered the Mistress as the Master led his stolidly +gigantic entry toward the enclosure, "Bruce can't get worse than +a third-prize yellow ribbon. We ought to be a little proud of +that. There are only three entries in his class." + +But even that bit of barren pride was denied the awkward +youngster's sponsor. As the three pups entered the enclosure, the +judge's half-shut eyes rested on Bruce--at first idly, then in +real amazement. Crossing to the Master, before giving the signal +for the first maneuvers, he said in tired disgust-- + +"Please take your measly St. Bernard monstrosity out of the ring. +This is a class for collies, not for freaks. I refuse to judge +that pup as a collie." + +"He's a thoroughbred," crossly protested the Master. "I have his +certified pedigree. There's no better blood in--" + +"I don't care what his ancestors were," snapped the judge. "He's +a throw-back to the dinosaur or the Great Auk. And I won't judge +him as a collie. Take him out of the ring. You're delaying the +others." + +A judge's decision is final. Red with angry shame and suppressing +an unworthy desire to kick the luckless Bruce, the Master led the +pup back to his allotted bench. Bruce trotted cheerily along with +a maddening air of having done something to be proud of. Deaf to +the Mistress's sympathy and to her timidly voiced protests, the +Master scrawled on an envelope-back the words "For Sale. Name +Your Own Price," and pinned it on the edge of the bench. + +"Here endeth the first lesson in collie-raising, so far as The +Place is concerned," he decreed, stalking back to the ringside to +watch the rest of the judging. + +The Mistress lingered behind, to bestow a furtive consolatory pat +upon the disqualified Bruce. Then she joined her husband beside +the ring. + +It was probably by accident that her skirt brushed sharply +against the bench-edge as she went--knocking the "For Sale" sign +down into the litter of straw below. + +But a well-meaning fellow-exhibitor, across the aisle, saw the +bit of paper flutter floorward. This good soul rescued it from +the straw and pinned it back in place. + +(The world is full of helpful folk. That is perhaps one reason +why the Millennium's date is still so indefinite.) + +An hour later, a man touched the Master on the arm. + +"That dog of yours, on Bench 48," began the stranger, "the big pup +with the 'For Sale' sign on his bench. What do you want for him?" + +The Mistress was several feet away, talking to the superintendent +of the show. Guiltily, yet gratefully, the Master led the would- +be purchaser back to the benches, without attracting his wife's +notice. + +A few minutes afterward he returned to where she and the +superintendent were chatting. + +"Well," said the Master, trying to steel himself against his +wife's possible disappointment, "I found a buyer for Bruce--a Dr. +Halding, from New York. He likes the pup. Says Bruce looks as if +he was strong and had lots of endurance. I wonder if he wants him +for a sledge-dog. He paid me fifteen dollars for him; and it was +a mighty good bargain. I was lucky to get more than a nickel for +such a cur." + +The Master shot forth this speech in almost a single rapid +breath. Then, before his wife could reply,--and without daring to +look into her troubled eyes,--he discovered an acquaintance on +the far side of the ring and bustled off to speak to him. The +Master, you see, was a husband, not a hero. + +The Mistress turned a worried gaze on the superintendent. + +"It was best, I suppose," she said bravely. "We agreed he must be +sold, if the judge decided he was not any good. But I'm sorry. +For I'm fond of him. I'm sorry he is going to live in New York, +too. A big city is no place for a big dog. I hope this Dr. +Halding will be nice to the poor puppy." + +"Dr.--WHO?" sharply queried the superintendent, who had not +caught the name when the Master had spoken it in his rapid-fire +speech. "Dr. Halding? Of New York? Huh! + +"You needn't worry about the effect of city life on your dog," he +went on with venomous bitterness. "The pup won't have a very long +spell of it. If I had my way, that man Halding would be barred +from every dog-show and stuck in jail. It's an old trick of his, +to buy up thoroughbreds, cheap, at shows. The bigger and the +stronger they are, the more he pays for them. He seems to think +pedigreed dogs are better for his filthy purposes than street +curs. They have a higher nervous organism, I suppose. The swine!" + +"What do you mean?" asked the Mistress, puzzled by his vehemence. +"I don't--" + +"You must have heard of Halding and his so-called 'research +work,'" the superintendent went on. "He is one of the most +notorious vivisectionists in--" + +The superintendent got no further. He was talking to empty air. +The Mistress had fled. Her determined small figure made a tumbled +wake through the crowd as she sped toward Bruce's bench. The +puppy was no longer there. In another second the Mistress was at +the door of the building. + +A line of parked cars was stretched across the opposite side of +the village street. Into one of these cars a large and loose- +jointed man was lifting a large and loose-jointed dog. The dog +did not like his treatment, and was struggling pathetically in +vain awkwardness to get free. + +"Bruce!" called the Mistress, fiercely, as she dashed across the +street. + +The puppy heard the familiar voice and howled for release. Dr. +Halding struck him roughly over the head and scrambled into the +machine with him, reaching with his one disengaged hand for the +self-starter button. Before he could touch it, the Mistress was +on the running-board of the car. + +As she ran, she had opened her wristbag. Now, flinging on the +runabout's seat a ten and a five-dollar bill, she demanded-- + +"Give me my dog! There is the money you paid for him!" + +"He isn't for sale," grinned the Doctor. "Stand clear, please. +I'm starting." + +"You're doing nothing of the sort," was the hot reply. "You'll +give back my dog! Do you understand?" + +For answer Halding reached again toward his self-starter. A +renewed struggle from the whimpering puppy frustrated his aim and +forced him to devote both hands to the subduing of Bruce. The dog +was making frantic writhings to get to the Mistress. She caught +his furry ruff and raged on, sick with anger. + +"I know who you are and what you want this poor frightened puppy +for. You shan't have him! There seems to be no law to prevent +human devils from strapping helpless dogs to a table and +torturing them to death in the unholy name of science. But if +there isn't a corner waiting for them, below, it's only because +Hades can't be made hot enough to punish such men as they ought +to be punished! You're not going to torture Bruce. There's your +money. Let go of him." + +"You talk like all silly, sloppy sentimentalists!" scoffed the +Doctor, his slight German accent becoming more noticeable as he +continued: "A woman can't have the intellect to understand our +services to humanity. We--" + +"Neither have half the real doctors!" she flashed. "Fully half of +them deny that vivisection ever helped humanity. And half the +remainder say they are in doubt. They can't point to a single +definite case where it has been of use. Alienists say it's a +distinct form of mental perversion,--the craving to torture dumb +animals to death and to make scientific notes of their +sufferings." + +"Pah!" he sniffed. "I--" + +She hurried on + +"If humanity can't be helped without cutting live dogs and +kittens to shreds, in slow agony--then so much the worse for +humanity! If you vivisectors would be content to practice on one +another--or on condemned murderers,--instead of on friendly and +innocent dogs, there'd be no complaint from any one. But leave +our pets alone. Let go of my puppy!" + +By way of response the Doctor grunted in lofty contempt. At the +same time he tucked the wriggling dog under his right arm, +holding him thus momentarily safe, and pressed the self-starter +button. + +There was a subdued whir. A move of Halding's foot and a release +of the brake, and the car started forward. + +"Stand clear!" he ordered. "I'm going." + +The jolt of the sudden start was too much for the Mistress's +balance on the running-board. Back she toppled. Only by luck did +she land on her feet instead of her head, upon the greasy +pavement of the street. + +But she sprang forward again, with a little cry of indignant +dismay, and reached desperately into the moving car for Bruce, +calling him eagerly by name. + +Dr. Halding was steering with his left hand, while his viselike +right arm still encircled the protesting collie. As the Mistress +ran alongside and grasped frantically for her doomed pet, he let +go of Bruce for an instant, to fend off her hand--or perhaps to +thrust her away from the peril of the fast-moving mud-guards. At +the Mistress's cry--and at the brief letup of pressure caused by +the Doctor's menacing gesture toward the unhappy woman--Bruce's +long-sleeping soul awoke. He answered the cry and the man's blow +at his deity in the immemorial fashion of all dogs whose human +gods are threatened. + +There was a snarling wild-beast growl, the first that ever had +come from the clownlike puppy's throat,--and Bruce flung his +unwieldy young body straight for the vivisector's throat. + +Halding, with a vicious fist-lunge, sent the pup to the floor of +the car in a crumpled heap, but not before the curving white +eyeteeth had slashed the side of the man's throat in an ugly +flesh-wound that drove its way dangerously close to the jugular. + +Half stunned by the blow, and with the breath knocked out of him, +Bruce none the less gathered himself together with lightning +speed and launched his bulk once more for Halding's throat. + +This time he missed his mark--for several things happened all at +once. + +At the dog's first onslaught, Halding's foot had swung forward, +along with his fist, in an instinctive kick. The kick did not +reach Bruce. But it landed, full and effectively, on the +accelerator. + +The powerful car responded to the touch with a bound. And it did +so at the very moment that the flash of white teeth at his throat +made Halding snatch his own left hand instinctively from the +steering-wheel, in order to guard the threatened spot. + +A second later the runabout crashed at full speed into the wall +of a house on the narrow street's opposite side. + +The rest was chaos. + +When a crowd of idlers and a policeman at last righted the +wrecked car, two bodies were found huddled inertly amid a junk- +heap of splintered glass and shivered wood and twisted metal. The +local ambulance carried away one of these limp bodies. The +Place's car rushed the smash-up's other senseless victim to the +office of the nearest veterinary. Dr. Halding, with a shattered +shoulder-blade and a fractured nose and jaw and a mild case of +brain-concussion,--was received as a guest of honor at the +village hospital. + +Bruce, his left foreleg broken and a nasty assortment of glass- +cuts marring the fluffiness of his fur, was skillfully patched up +by the vet' and carried back that night to The Place. + +The puppy had suddenly taken on a new value in his owners' eyes-- +partly for his gallantly puny effort at defending the Mistress, +partly because of his pitiful condition. And he was nursed, right +zealously, back to life and health. + +In a few weeks, the plaster cast on the convalescent's broken +foreleg had been replaced by a bandage. In another week or two +the vet' pronounced Bruce as well as ever. The dog, through +habit, still held the mended foreleg off the ground, even after +the bandage was removed. Whereat, the Master tied a bandage +tightly about the uninjured foreleg. + +Bruce at once decided that this, and not the other, was the lame +leg; and he began forthwith to limp on it. As it was manifestly +impossible to keep both forelegs off the ground at the same time +when he was walking, he was forced to make use of the once-broken +leg. Finding, to his amaze, that he could walk on it with perfect +ease, he devoted his limping solely to the well leg. And as soon +as the Master took the bandage from that, Bruce ceased to limp at +all. + +Meanwhile, a lawyer, whose name sounded as though it had been +culled from a Rhine Wine list, had begun suit, in Dr. Halding's +name, against the Mistress, as a "contributory cause" of his +client's accident. The suit never came to trial. It was dropped, +indeed, with much haste. Not from any change of heart on the +plaintiff's behalf; but because, at that juncture, Dr. Halding +chanced to be arrested and interned as a dangerous Enemy Alien. +Our country had recently declared war on Germany; and the belated +spy-hunt was up. + +During the Federal officers' search of the doctor's house, for +treasonable documents (of which they found an ample supply), they +came upon his laboratory. No fewer than five dogs, in varying +stages of hideous torture, were found strapped to tables or +hanging to wall-hooks. The vivisector bewailed, loudly and +gutturally, this cruel interruption to his researches in +Science's behalf. + +One day, two months after the accident, Bruce stood on all four +feet once more, with no vestige left of scars or of lameness. And +then, for the first time, a steady change that had been so slow +as to escape any one's notice dawned upon the Mistress and the +Master. It struck them both at the same moment. And they stared +dully at their pet. + +The shapeless, bumptious, foolish Pest of two months ago had +vanished. In his place, by a very normal process of nature-magic, +stood a magnificently stately thoroughbred collie. + +The big head had tapered symmetrically, and had lost its puppy +formlessness. It was now a head worthy of Landseer's own pencil. +The bonily awkward body had lengthened and had lost its myriad +knobs and angles. It had grown massively graceful. + +The former thatch of half-curly and indeterminately yellowish +fuzz had changed to a rough tawny coat, wavy and unbelievably +heavy, stippled at the ends with glossy black. There was a +strange depth and repose and Soul in the dark eyes--yes, and a +keen intelligence, too. + +It was the old story of the Ugly Duckling, all over again. + +"Why!" gasped the Mistress. "He's--he's BEAUTIFUL! And I never +knew it." + +At her loved voice the great dog moved across to where she sat. +Lightly he laid one little white paw on her knee and looked +gravely up into her eyes. + +"He's got sense, too," chimed in the Master. "Look at those eyes, +if you doubt it. They're alive with intelligence. It's--it's a +miracle! He can't be the same worthless whelp I wanted to get rid +of! He CAN'T!" + +And he was not. The long illness, at the most formative time of +the dog's growth, had done its work in developing what, all the +time, had lain latent. The same illness--and the long-enforced +personal touch with humans--had done an equally transforming work +on the puppy's undeveloped mind. The Thackeray-Washington- +Lincoln-Bismarck simile had held good. + +What looked like a miracle was no more than the same beautifully +simple process which Nature enacts every day, when she changes an +awkward and dirt-colored cygnet into a glorious swan or a leggily +gawky colt into a superb Derby-winner. But Bruce's metamorphosis +seemed none the less wonderful in the eyes of the two people who +had learned to love him. + +Somewhere in the hideous wreck of Dr. Halding's motorcar the dog +had found a soul--and the rest had followed as a natural course +of growth. + +At the autumn dog-show, in Hampton, a "dark-sable-and-white" +collie of unwonted size and beauty walked proudly into the ring +close to the Mistress's side, when the puppy class was called--a +class that includes all dogs under twelve months old. Six minutes +later the Mistress was gleesomely accepting the first-prize blue +ribbon, for "best puppy," from Judge Symonds' own gnarled hand. + +Then came the other classes for collies--"Novice," "Open," +"Limit," "Local," "American Bred." And as Bruce paced +majestically out of the ring at last, he was the possessor of +five more blue ribbons--as well as the blue Winner's rosette, for +"best collie in the show." + +"Great dog you've got there, madam!" commented Symonds in solemn +approval as he handed the Winner's rosette to the Mistress. "Fine +dog in every way. Fine promise. He will go far. One of the best +types I've--" + +"Do you really think so?" sweetly replied the Mistress. "Why, one +of the foremost collie judges in America has gone on record as +calling him a 'measly St. Bernard monstrosity.'" + +"No?" snorted Symonds, incredulous. "You don't say so! A judge +who would speak so, of that dog, doesn't understand his business. +He--" + +"Oh, yes, he does!" contradicted the Mistress, glancing lovingly +at her handful of blue ribbons. "I think he understands his +business very well indeed--NOW!" + + + +CHAPTER III. The War Dog + +The guest had decided to wait until next morning, before leaving +The Place, instead of following his first plan of taking a night +train to New York. He was a captain in our regular army and had +newly come back from France to forget an assortment of shrapnel- +bites and to teach practical tactics to rookies. + +He reached his decision to remain over night at The Place while +he and the Mistress and the Master were sitting on the vine-hung +west veranda after dinner, watching the flood of sunset change +the lake to molten gold and the sky to pink fire. It would be +pleasant to steal another few hours at this back-country House of +Peace before returning to the humdrum duties of camp. And the +guest yielded to the temptation. + +"I'm mighty glad you can stay over till morning," said the +Master. "I'll send word to Roberts not to bring up the car." + +As he spoke, he scrawled a penciled line on an envelope-back; +then he whistled. + +From a cool lounging-place beneath the wistaria-vines arose a +huge collie--stately of form, dark brown and white of coat, deep- +set of eye and with a head that somehow reminded one of a +Landseer engraving. The collie trotted up the steps of the +veranda and stood expectant before the Master. The latter had +been folding the envelope lengthwise. Now he slipped it through +the ring in the dog's collar. + +"Give it to Roberts," he said. + +The big collie turned and set off at a hand-gallop. + +"Good!" approved the guest. "Bruce didn't seem to be in any doubt +as to what you wanted him to do. He knows where Roberts is likely +to be?" + +"No," said the Master. "But he can track him and find him, if +Roberts is anywhere within a mile or so from here. That was one +of the first things we taught him--to carry messages. All we do +is to slip the paper into his collar-ring and tell him the name +of the person to take it to. Naturally, he knows us all by name. +So it is easy enough for him to do it. We look on the trick as +tremendously clever. But that's because we love Bruce. Almost any +dog can be taught to do it, I suppose. We--" + +"You're mistaken!" corrected the guest. "Almost any dog CAN'T be +taught to. Some dogs can, of course; but they are the exception. +I ought to know, for I've been where dog-couriers are a decidedly +important feature of trench-warfare. I stopped at one of the dog- +training schools in England, too, on my way back from Picardy, +and watched the teaching of the dogs that are sent to France and +Flanders. Not one in ten can be trained to carry messages; and +not one in thirty can be counted on to do it reliably. You ought +to be proud of Bruce." + +"We are," replied the Mistress. "He is one of the family. We +think everything of him. He was such a stupid and awkward puppy, +too! Then, in just a few months, he shaped up, as he is now. And +his brain woke." + +Bruce interrupted the talk by reappearing on the veranda. The +folded envelope was still in the ring on his collar. The guest +glanced furtively at the Master, expecting some sign of chagrin +at the collie's failure. + +Instead, the Master took the envelope, unfolded it and glanced at +a word or two that had been written beneath his own scrawl; then +he made another penciled addition to the envelope's writing, +stuck the twisted paper back into the ring and said-- + +"Roberts." + +Off trotted Bruce on his second trip. + +"I had forgotten to say which train you'll have to take in the +morning," explained the Master. "So Roberts wrote, asking what +time he was to have the car at the door after breakfast. It was +careless of me." + +The guest did not answer. But when Bruce presently returned,-- +this time with no paper in his collar-ring,--the officer passed +his hand appraisingly through the dog's heavy coat and looked +keenly down into his dark eyes. + +"Gun-shy?" asked the guest. "Or perhaps he's never heard a gun +fired?" + +"He's heard hundreds of guns fired," said the Master. "I never +allow a gun to be fired on The Place, of course, because we've +made it a bird refuge. But Bruce went with us in the car to the +testing of the Lewis machineguns, up at Haskell. They made a most +ungodly racket. But somehow it didn't seem to bother the Big Dog +at all." + +"H'm!" mused the guest, his professional interest vehemently +roused. "He would be worth a fortune over there. There are a lot +of collies in the service, in one capacity or another--almost as +many as the Airedales and the police dogs. And they are doing +grand work. But I never saw one that was better fitted for it +than Bruce. It's a pity he lives on the wrong side of the +Atlantic. He could do his bit, to more effect than the average +human. There are hundreds of thousands of men for the ranks, but +pitifully few perfect courier-dogs." + +The Mistress was listening with a tensity which momentarily grew +more painful. The Master's forehead, too, was creased with a new +thought that seemed to hurt him. To break the brief silence that +followed the guest's words, he asked: + +"Are the dogs, over there, really doing such great work as the +papers say they are? I read, the other day--" + +" 'Great work!'" repeated the guest. "I should say so. Not only +in finding the wounded and acting as guards on listening posts, +and all that, but most of all as couriers. There are plenty of +times when the wireless can't be used for sending messages from +one point to another, and where there is no telephone connection, +and where the firing is too hot for a human courier to get +through. That is where is the war dogs have proved their weight +in radium. Collies, mostly. There are a million true stories of +their prowess told, at camp-fires. Here are just two such +incidents--both of them on record, by the way, at the British War +Office + +"A collie, down near Soissons, was sent across a bad strip of +fire-scourged ground, with a message. A boche sharpshooter fired +at him and shattered his jaw. The dog kept on, in horrible agony, +and delivered the message. Another collie was sent over a still +hotter and much longer stretch of territory with a message. (That +was during the Somme drive of 1916.) He was shot at, a dozen +times, as he ran. At last two bullets got him. He fell over, +mortally wounded. He scrambled to his feet and kept on falling, +stumbling, staggering--till he got to his destination. Then he +dropped dead at the side of the Colonel the message had been sent +to. And those are only two of thousands of true collie-anecdotes. +Yet some fools are trying to get American dogs done away with, as +'non-utilitarian,' while the war lasts! As if the dogs in France, +today, weren't earning their overseas brothers' right to live-- +and live well!" + +Neither of his hearers made reply when the guest finished his +earnest, eager recital. Neither of them had paid much heed to his +final words. For the Master and the Mistress were looking at each +other in mute unhappiness. The same miserable thought was in the +mind of each. And each knew the thought that was torturing the +mind of the other. + +Presently, at a glint of inquiry in the Master's eye, the +Mistress suddenly bent over and buried her face in the deep mass +of Bruce's ruff as the dog stood lovingly beside her. Then, still +stroking the collie's silken head, she returned her husband's +wretchedly questioning glance with a resigned little nod. The +Master cleared his throat noisily before he could speak with the +calm indifference he sought. Then, turning to the apparently +unnoticing guest, he said-- + +"I think I told you I tried to get across to France at the very +start--and I was barred because I am past forty and because I +have a bum heart and several other defects that a soldier isn't +supposed to have. My wife and I have tried to do what little we +can for the Cause, on this side of the ocean. But it has seemed +woefully little, when we remember what others are doing. And we +have no son we can send." + +Again he cleared his throat and went on with sulky +ungraciousness: + +"We both know what you've been driving at for the past five +minutes. And--and we agree. Bruce can go." + +"Great!" applauded the guest. "That's fine! He'll be worth his--" + +"If you think we're a couple of fools for not doing this more +willingly," went on the Master with savage earnestness, "just +stop to think what it means to a man to give up the dog he loves. +Not to give him up to some one who will assure him a good home, +but to send him over into that hell, where a German bullet or a +shell-fragment or hunger or disease is certain to get him, soon +or late. To think of him lying smashed and helpless, somewhere in +No Man's Land, waiting for death; or caught by the enemy and +eaten! (The Red Cross bulletin says no less than eight thousand +dogs were eaten, in Saxony alone, in 1913, the year BEFORE the +war began.) Or else to be captured and then cut up by some German +vivisector-surgeon in the sacred interests of Science! Oh, we can +bring ourselves to send Bruce over there! But don't expect us to +do it with a good grace. For we can't." + +"I--" began the embarrassed guest; but the Mistress chimed in, +her sweet voice not quite steady. + +"You see, Captain, we've made such a pet--such a baby--of Bruce! +All his life he has lived here--here where he had the woods to +wander in and the lake to swim in, and this house for his home. +He will be so unhappy and--Well, don't let's talk about that! +When I think of the people who give their sons and everything +they have, to the country, I feel ashamed of not being more +willing to let a mere dog go. But then Bruce is not just a 'mere +dog.' He is--he is BRUCE. All I ask is that if he is injured and +not killed, you'll arrange to have him sent back here to us. +We'll pay for it, of course. And will you write to whomever you +happen to know, at that dog-training school in England, and ask +that Bruce be treated nicely while he is training there? He's +never been whipped. He's never needed it, you see." + + +The Mistress might have spared herself much worry as to Bruce's +treatment in the training school to which he was consigned. It +was not a place of cruelty, but of development. And when, out of +the thousands of dogs sent there, the corps of trainers found one +with promise of strong ability, such a pupil was handled with all +the care and gentleness and skill that a temperamental prima +donna might expect. + +Such a dog was the big American collie, debarked from a goods car +at the training camp railway station, six weeks after the +Mistress and the Master had consented to his enlistment. And the +handlers treated him accordingly. + +The Master himself had taken Bruce to the transport, in Brooklyn, +and had led him aboard the overfull ship. The new sights and +sounds around him interested the home-bred collie. But when the +Master turned him over to the officer in whose charge he was to +be for the voyage, Bruce's deep-set eyes clouded with a sudden +heartsick foreboding. + +Wrenching himself free from the friendly hand on his collar, he +sprang in pursuit of his departing deity,--the loved Master who +was leaving him alone and desolate among all these strange scenes +and noises. The Master, plodding, sullen and heavy-hearted, +toward the gangway, was aware of a cold nose thrust into his +dejected hand. + +Looking down he beheld Bruce staring up at him with a world of +stark appeal in his troubled gaze. The Master swallowed hard; +then laid his hand on the beautiful head pressed so confidingly +against his knee. Turning, he led the dog back to the quarters +assigned to him. + +"Stay here, old friend!" he commanded, huskily. "It's all right. +You'll make good. I know that. And there's a chance in a billion +that you'll come back to us. I'm--I'm not deserting you. And I +guess there's precious little danger that any one on The Place +will ever forget you. It's--it's all right. Millions of humans +are doing it. I'd give everything I've got, if I could go, too. +IT'S ALL RIGHT!" + +Then Bruce understood at last that he was to stay in this place +of abominations, far from everything he loved; and that he must +do so because the Master ordained it. He made no further effort +to break away and to follow his god ashore. But he shivered +convulsively from head to foot; and his desolate gaze continued +to trace the Master's receding figure out of sight. Then, with a +long sigh, he lay down, heavily, his head between his white +forepaws, and resigned himself to whatever of future misery his +deities might have ordained for him. + +Ensued a fortnight of mental and bodily anguish, as the inland- +reared dog tasted the horrors of a voyage in a rolling ship, +through heaving seas. Afterward, came the landing at a British +port and the train ride to the camp which was to be his home for +the next three months. + +Bruce's sense of smell told him the camp contained more dogs than +ever he had beheld in all his brief life put together. But his +hearing would have led him to believe there were not a dozen +other dogs within a mile of him. + +From the encampment arose none of the rackety barking which +betokens the presence of many canines, and which deafens visitors +to a dog-show. + +One of the camp's first and most stringent rules forbade barking, +except under special order. These dogs--or the pick of them--were +destined for work at the front. The bark of a dog has a carrying +quality greater than the combined shouting of ten men. It is the +last sound to follow a balloonist, after he has risen above the +reach of all other earth-noises. + +Hence, a chance bark, rising through the night to where some +enemy airman soared with engines turned off, might well lead to +the bombing of hitherto unlocated trenches or detachment-camps. +For this and divers other reasons, the first lesson taught to +arriving wardogs was to abstain from barking. + +The dogs were divided, roughly, by breeds, as regarded the line +of training assigned to them. The collies were taught courier- +work. The Airedales, too,--hideous, cruel, snake-headed,--were +used as couriers, as well as to bear Red Cross supplies and to +hunt for the wounded. The gaunt and wolflike police dogs were +pressed into the two latter tasks, and were taught listening-post +duty. And so on through all available breeds,--including the +stolidly wise Old English sheepdogs who were to prove invaluable +in finding and succoring and reporting the wounded,--down to the +humble terriers and mongrels who were taught to rid trenches of +vermin. + +Everywhere was quiet efficiency and tirelessly patient and +skillful work on the part of the trainers. For Britain's best dog +men had been recruited for service here. On the perfection of +their charges' training might depend the fate of many thousand +gallant soldiers. Wherefore, the training was perfect. + +Hundreds of dogs proved stupid or unreliable or gun-shy or too +easily confused in moments of stress. These were weeded out, +continually, and shipped back to the masters who had proffered +them. + +Others developed with amazing speed and cleverness, grasping +their profession as could few human soldiers. And Bruce, lonely +and heartsore, yet throwing himself into his labors with all the +zest of the best thoroughbred type,--was one of this group. + +His early teachings now stood him in good stead. What once had +been a jolly game, for his own amusement and that of the Mistress +and the Master, was now his life-work. Steadily his trainer +wrought over him, bringing out latent abilities that would have +dumfounded his earliest teachers, steadying and directing the +gayly dashing intelligence; upbuilding and rounding out all his +native gifts. + +A dog of Bruce's rare type made up to the trainers for the +dullness of their average pupils. He learned with bewildering +ease. He never forgot a lesson once taught. + +No, the Mistress need not have interceded to save him from +beating. As soon would an impresario think of thrashing Caruso or +Paderewski as would Bruce's glum Scottish trainer have laid whip +to this best pupil of his. Life was bare and strict for Bruce. +But life was never unkind to him, in these first months of exile +from The Place. And, bit by bit, he began to take a joy in his +work. + +Not for a day,--perhaps not for an hour, did the big collie +forget the home of his babyhood or those he had delighted to +worship, there. And the look of sadness in his dark eyes became a +settled aspect. Yet, here, there was much to interest and to +excite him. And he grew to look forward with pleasure to his +daily lessons. + +At the end of three months, he was shipped to France. There his +seemingly aimless studies at the training camp were put to active +use. + + * * * * * * * * * * + +At the foot of the long Flanders hill-slope the "Here-We-Come" +Regiment, of mixed American and French infantry, held a +caterpillar-shaped line of trenches. + +To the right, a few hundred yards away, was posted a Lancashire +regiment, supported by a battalion from Cornwall. On the left +were two French regiments. In front, facing the hill-slope and +not a half-mile distant, was the geometric arrangement of +sandbags that marked the contour of the German first-line +trenches. + +The hill behind them, the boches in front of them, French and +British troops on either side of them--the Here-We-Comes were +helping to defend what was known as a "quiet' sector. Behind the +hill, and on loftier heights far to the rear, the Allied +artillery was posted. Somewhere in the same general locality lay +a division of British reserves. + +It is almost a waste of words to have described thus the +surroundings of the Here-We-Comes. For, with no warning at all, +those entire surroundings were about to be changed. + +Ludendorff and his little playmates were just then engaged in the +congenial sport of delivering unexpected blows at various +successive points of the Allied line, in an effort to find some +spot that was soft enough to cave in under the impact and let +through a horde of gray-clad Huns. And though none of the +defenders knew it, this "quiet" sector had been chosen for such a +minor blow. + +The men in higher command, back there behind the hill crest, had +a belated inkling, though, of a proposed attack on the lightly +defended front trenches. For the Allied airplanes which drifted +in the upper heavens like a scattered handful of dragon-flies +were not drifting there aimlessly. They were the eyes of the +snakelike columns that crawled so blindly on the scarred brown +surface of the earth. And those "eyes" had discerned the massing +of a force behind the German line had discerned and had duly +reported it. + +The attack might come in a day. It might not come in a week. But +it was coming--unless the behind-the-lines preparations were a +gigantic feint. + +A quiet dawn, in the quiet trenches of the quiet sector. +Desultory artillery and somewhat less desultory sniping had +prevailed throughout the night, and at daybreak; but nothing out +of the ordinary. + +Two men on listening-post had been shot; and so had an +overcurious sentry who peeped just an inch too far above a +parapet. A shell had burst in a trench, knocking the telephone +connection out of gear and half burying a squad of sleepers under +a lot of earth. Otherwise, things were drowsily dull. + +In a dugout sprawled Top-Sergeant Mahan,--formerly of Uncle Sam's +regular army, playing an uninspiring game of poker with Sergeant +Dale of his company and Sergeant Vivier of the French infantry. +The Frenchman was slow in learning poker's mysteries. + +And, anyway, all three men were temporarily penniless and were +forced to play for I.O.U's--which is stupid sport, at best. + +So when, from the German line, came a quick sputt-sputt-sputt +from a half-dozen sharpshooters' rifles, all three men looked up +from their desultory game in real interest. Mahan got to his feet +with a grunt. + +"Some other fool has been trying to see how far he can rubber +above the sandbags without drawing boche fire," he hazarded, +starting out to investigate. "It's a miracle to me how a boche +bullet can go through heads that are so full of first-quality +ivory as those rubberers'." + +But Mahan's strictures were quite unwarranted. The sharpshooters +were not firing at the parapet. Their scattering shots were +flying high, and hitting against the slope of the hill behind the +trenches. + +Adown this shell-pocked hillside, as Mahan and the other +disturbed idlers gazed, came cantering a huge dark-brown-and- +white collie. The morning wind stirred the black stippling that +edged his tawny fur, showing the gold-gray undercoat beneath it. +His white chest was like a snowdrift, and offered a fine mark for +the German rifles. A bullet or two sang whiningly past his gayly +up-flung head. + +A hundred voices from the Here-We-Come trenches hailed the +advancing dog. + +"Why, it's Bruce!" cried Mahan in glad welcome. "I might 'a' +known he or another of the collies would be along. I might 'a' +known it, when the telephones went out of commission. He--" + +"Regardez-donc!" interrupted the admiring Vivier. "He acts like +bullets was made of flies! Mooch he care for boche lead-pills, ce +brave vieux!" + +"Yes," growled Dale worriedly; "and one of these days a bullet +will find its way into that splendid carcass of his. He's been +shot at, a thousand times, to my own knowledge. And all I ask is +a chance, with a rifle-butt, at the skull of the Hun who downs +him!" + +"Downs Bruce?" queried Vivier in fine scorn. "The boche he is no +borned who can do it. Bruce has what you call it, in Ainglish, +the 'charm life.' He go safe, where other caniche be pepper- +potted full of holes. I've watch heem. I know." + +Unscathed by the several shots that whined past him, Bruce came +to a halt at the edge of a traverse. There he stood, wagging his +plume of a tail in grave friendliness, while a score of khaki- +clad arms reached up to lift him bodily into the trench. + +A sergeant unfastened the message from the dog's collar and +posted off to the colonel with it. + +The message was similar to one which had been telephoned to each +of the supporting bodies, to right and to left of the Here-We- +Comes. It bade the colonel prepare to withdraw his command from +the front trenches at nightfall, and to move back on the main +force behind the hill-crest. The front trenches were not +important; and they were far too lightly manned to resist a mass +attack. Wherefore the drawing-in and consolidating of the whole +outflung line. + +Bruce, his work done now, had leisure to respond to the countless +offers of hospitality that encompassed him. One man brought him a +slice of cold broiled bacon. Another spread pork-grease over a +bit of bread and proffered it. A third unearthed from some +sacredly guarded hiding-place an excessively stale half-inch +square of sweet chocolate. + +Had the dog so chosen, he might then and there have eaten himself +to death on the multitude of votive offerings. But in a few +minutes he had had enough, and he merely sniffed in polite +refusal at all further gifts. + +"See?" lectured Mahan. "That's the beast of it! When you say a +fellow eats or drinks 'like a beast,' you ought to remember that +a beast won't eat or drink a mouthful more than is good for him." + +"Gee!" commented the somewhat corpulent Dale. "I'm glad I'm not a +beast--especially on pay-day." + +Presently Bruce tired of the ovation tendered him. These ovations +were getting to be an old story. They had begun as far back as +his training-camp days--when the story of his joining the army +was told by the man to whom The Place's guest had written +commending the dog to the trainers' kindness. + +At the training-camp this story had been reenforced by the chief +collie-teacher--a dour little Hieland Scot named McQuibigaskie, +who on the first day declared that the American dog had more +sense and more promise and more soul "than a' t'other tykes south +o' Kirkcudbright Brae." + +Being only mortal, Bruce found it pleasanter to be admired and +petted than ignored or kicked. He was impersonally friendly with +the soldiers, when he was off duty; and he relished the dainties +they were forever thrusting at him. + +But at times his soft eyes would grow dark with homesickness for +the quiet loveliness of The Place and for the Mistress and the +Master who were his loyally worshiped gods. Life had been so +happy and so sweetly uneventful for him, at The Place! And there +had been none of the awful endless thunder and the bewilderingly +horrible smells and gruesome sights which here met him at every +turn. + +The dog's loving heart used to grow sick with it all; and he +longed unspeakably for home. But he was a gallant soldier, and he +did his work not only well, but with a snap and a dash and an +almost uncanny intelligence which made him an idol to the men. + +Presently, now, having eaten all he wanted and having been patted +and talked to until he craved solitude, Bruce strolled ever to an +empty dugout, curled up on a torn blanket there, put his nose +between his white paws and went to sleep. + +The German artillery-fire had swelled from an occasional +explosion to a ceaseless roar, that made the ground vibrate and +heave, and that beat on the eardrums with nauseating iterance. +But it did not bother Bruce. For months he had been used to this +sort of annoyance, and he had learned to sleep snugly through it +all. + +Meanwhile, outside his dugout, life was speeding up at a dizzying +rate. The German artillery had sprung to sudden and wholesale +activity. Far to the right of the Here-We-Come regiment's +trenches a haze had begun to crawl along the ground and to send +snaky tendrils high in air-tendrils that blended into a single +grayish-green wall as they moved forward. The hazewall's gray- +green was shot by yellow and purple tinges as the sun's weak rays +touched it. To the left of the Here-We-Comes, and then in front +of them, appeared the same wall of billowing gas. + +The Here-We-Comes were ready for it with their hastily donned +masks. But there was no need of the precaution. By one of the +sudden wind--freaks so common in the story of the war, the gas- +cloud was cleft in two by a swirling breeze, and it rolled dankly +on, to right and left, leaving the central trenches clear. + +Now, an artillery barrage, accompanied or followed by a gas- +demonstration, can mean but one thing: a general attack. +Therefore telephonic word came to the detachments to left and +right of the Here-We-Comes, to fall back, under cover of the gas- +cloud, to safer positions. Two dogs were sent, with the same +order, to the Here-We-Comes. (One of the dogs was gassed. A bit +of shrapnel found the other.) + +Thus it was that the Here-We-Comes were left alone (though they +did not know it), to hold the position,--with no support on +either side, and with a mere handful of men wherewith to stem the +impending rush. + +On the heels of the dispersing gas-cloud, and straight across the +half-mile or less of broken ground, came a line of gray. In five +successive waves, according to custom, the boches charged. Each +wave hurled itself forward as fast as efficiency would let it, in +face of the opposing fire, and as far as human endurance would be +goaded. Then it went down, and its survivors attached themselves +to the succeeding wave. + +Hence, by the time the fifth and mightiest wave got into motion, +it was swelled by the survivors of all four of its predecessors +and was an all-but-resistless mass of shouting and running men. + +The rifles and machine-guns of the Here-We-Comes played merrily +into the advancing gray swarms, stopping wave after wave, and at +last checking the fifth and "master" wave almost at the very +brink of the Franco-American parapet. + +"That's how they do!" Mahan pantingly explained to a rather shaky +newcomer, as the last wave fell back. "They count on numbers and +bullrushes to get them there. If they'd had ten thousand men, in +that rush, instead of five thousand, they'd have got us. And if +they had twice as many men in their whole army as they have, +they'd win this war. But praise be, they haven't twice as many! +That is one of the fifty-seven reasons why the Allies are going +to lick Germany." + +Mahan talked jubilantly. The same jubilation ran all along the +line of victors. But the colonel and his staff were not +rejoicing. They had just learned of the withdrawal of the forces +to either side of them, and they knew they themselves could not +hope to stand against a second and larger charge. + +Such a charge the enemy were certain to make. The Germans, too, +must soon learn of the defection of the supports. It was now only +a question of an hour or less before a charge with a double- +enveloping movement would surround and bag the Here-We-Comes, +catching the whole regiment in an inescapable trap. + +To fall back, now, up that long bare hillside, under full fire of +the augmented German artillery, would mean a decimating of the +entire command. The Here-We-Comes could not retreat. They could +not hope to hold their ground. The sole chance for life lay in +the arrival of strong reenforcements from the rear, to help them +hold the trenches until night, or to man the supporting +positions. Reserves were within easy striking distance. But, as +happened so many times in the war, there was no routine way to +summon them in time. + +It was the chance sight of a crumpled message lying on his +dugout-table that reminded the colonel of Bruce's existence and +of his presence in the front trench. It was a matter of thirty +seconds for the colonel to scrawl an urgent appeal and a brief +statement of conditions. Almost as soon as the note was ready, an +orderly appeared at the dugout entrance, convoying the newly +awakened Bruce. + +The all-important message was fastened in place. The colonel +himself went to the edge of the traverse, and with his own arms +lifted the eighty-pound collie to the top. + +There was tenderness as well as strength in the lifting arms. As +he set Bruce down on the brink, the colonel said, as if speaking +to a fellow-human: + +"I hate to do it, old chap. I HATE to! There isn't one chance in +three of your getting all the way up the hill alive. But there +wouldn't be one chance in a hundred, for a MAN. The boches will +be on the lookout for just this move. And their best +sharpshooters will be waiting for you--even if you dodge the +shrapnel and the rest of the artillery. I'm sorry! And--good-by." + +Then, tersely, he rasped out the command-- + +"Bruce! Headquarters! Headquarters! QUICK!" + +At a bound, the dog was gone. + +Breasting the rise of the hill, Bruce set off at a sweeping run, +his tawny-and-white mane flying in the wind. + +A thousand eyes, from the Here-We-Come trenches, watched his +flight. And as many eyes from the German lines saw the huge +collie's dash up the coverless slope. + +Scarce had Bruce gotten fairly into his stride when the boche +bullets began to sing--not a desultory little flurry of shots, as +before; but by the score, and with a murderous earnestness. When +he had appeared, on his way to the trenches, an hour earlier, the +Germans had opened fire on him, merely for their own amusement-- +upon the same merry principle which always led them to shoot at +an Ally war-dog. But now they understood his all-important +mission; and they strove with their best skill to thwart it. + +The colonel of the Here-We-Comes drew his breath sharply between +his teeth. He did not regret the sending of the collie. It had +been a move of stark military necessity. And there was an off +chance that it might mean the saving of his whole command. + +But the colonel was fond of Bruce, and it angered him to hear the +frantic effort of the boche marksmen to down so magnificent a +creature. The bullets were spraying all about the galloping dog, +kicking up tiny swirls of dust at his heels and in front of him +and to either side. + +Mahan, watching, with streaming eyes and blaspheming lips, +recalled the French sergeant's theory that Bruce bore a charmed +life. And he prayed that Vivier might be right. But in his prayer +was very little faith. For under such a fusillade it seemed +impossible that at least one highpower bullet should not reach +the collie before the slope could be traversed. A fast-running +dog is not an easy mark for a bullet--especially if the dog be a +collie, with a trace of wolf--ancestry in his gait. A dog, at +best, does not gallop straight ahead as does a horse. There is +almost always a sidewise lilt to his run. + +Bruce was still further aided by the shell-plowed condition of +the hillside. Again and again he had to break his stride, to leap +some shell-hole. Often he had to encircle such holes. More than +once he bounded headlong down into a gaping crater and scrambled +up its far side. These erratic moves, and the nine-hundred-yard +distance (a distance that was widening at every second) made the +sharpshooters' task anything but an exact science. + +Mahan's gaze followed the dog's every step. Bruce had cleared +more than three-fourths of the slope. The top-sergeant permitted +himself the luxury of a broad grin. + +"I'll buy Vivier all the red-ink wine he can gargle, next pay- +day!" he vowed. "He was dead right about the dog. No bullet was +ever molded that can get--" + +Mahan broke off in his exultation, with an explosive oath, as a +new note in the firing smote upon his trained hearing. + +"The swine!" he roared. "The filthy, unsportsmanly, dog-eating +Prussian swine! They're turning MACHINE-GUNS on him!" + +In place of the intermittent rattle of rifleshots now came the +purring cough of rapidfire guns. The bullets hit the upper +hillside in swathes, beginning a few yards behind the flying +collie and moving upward toward him like a sweeping of an unseen +scythe. + +"That's the wind-up!" groaned Mahan. "Lord, send me an even break +against one of those Hun machinegunners some day! If--" + +Again Mahan failed to finish his train of thought. He stared +open-mouthed up the hill. Almost at the very summit, within a rod +or two of the point where the crest would intervene between him +and his foes, Bruce whirled in mid-air and fell prone. + +The fast-following swaths of machine-gun bullets had not reached +him. But another German enemy had. From behind a heap of offal, +on the crest, a yellow-gray dog had sprung, and had launched +himself bodily upon Bruce's flank as the unnoticing collie had +flashed past him. + +The assailant was an enormous and hyena-like German police-dog. +He was one of the many of his breed that were employed (for work +or food) in the German camps, and which used to sneak away from +their hard-kicking soldier-owners to ply a more congenial trade +as scavengers, and as seekers for the dead. For, in traits as +well as in looks, the police-dog often emulates the ghoulish +hyena. + +Seeing the approaching collie (always inveterate foe of his +kind), the police-dog had gauged the distance and had launched +his surprise attack with true Teuton sportsmanship and +efficiency. Down went Bruce under the fierce weight that crashed +against his shoulder. But before the other could gain his coveted +throat-grip, Bruce was up again. Like a furry whirlwind he was at +the police-dog, fighting more like a wolf than a civilized collie +--tearing into his opponent with a maniac rage, snapping, +slashing; his glittering white fangs driving at a dozen +vulnerable points in a single second. + +It was as though Bruce knew he had no time to waste from his +life-and-death mission. He could not elude this enemy, so he must +finish him as quickly as possible. + +"Give me your rifle!" sputtered Mahan to the soldier nearest him. +"I'll take one potshot at that Prussian cur, before the machine- +guns get the two of 'em. Even if I hit Bruce by mistake, he'd +rather die by a Christian Yankee-made bullet than--" + +Just then the scythelike machine-gun fire reached the hillcrest +combatants. And in the same instant a shell smote the ground, +apparently between them. Up went a geyser of smoke and dirt and +rocks. When the cloud settled, there was a deep gully in the +ground where a moment earlier Bruce and the police-dog had waged +their death-battle. + +"That settles it!" muttered the colonel. + +And he went to make ready for such puny defense as his men might +hope to put up against the German rush. + +While these futile preparations were still under way, terrific +artillery fire burst from the Allied batteries behind the hill, +shielding the Here-We-Come trenches with a curtain of fire whose +lower folds draped themselves right unlovingly around the German +lines. Under cover of this barrage, down the hill swarmed the +Allied reserves! + +"How did you get word?" demanded the astonished colonel of the +Here-We-Comes, later in the day. + +"From your note, of course," replied the general he had +questioned. "The collie--old Bruce." + +"Bruce?" babbled the colonel foolishly. + +"Of course," answered the general. "Who else? But I'm afraid it's +the last message he'll ever deliver. He came rolling and +staggering up to headquarters--one mass of blood, and three +inches thick with caked dirt. His right side was torn open from a +shell-wound, and he had two machine-gun bullets in his shoulder. +He's deaf as a post, too, from shell-shock. He tumbled over in a +heap on the steps of headquarters. But he GOT there. That's +Bruce, all over. That's the best type of collie, all over. Some +of us were for putting him out of his misery with a shot through +the head. We'd have done it, too, if it had been any other dog. +But the surgeon-general waded in and took a hand in the game-- +carried Bruce to his own quarters. We left him working over the +dog himself. And he swears Bruce will pull through!" + + + +CHAPTER IV. When Eyes Were No Use + +"Yes, it's an easy enough trade to pick up," lectured Top- +Sergeant Mahan, formerly of the regular army. "You've just got to +remember a few things. But you've got to keep on remembering +those few, all the time. If you forget one of 'em, it's the last +bit of forgetting you're ever likely to do." + +Top-Sergeant Mahan, of the mixed French-and-American regiment +known as "Here-We-Come," was squatting at ease on the trench +firing-step. From that professorial seat he was dispensing +useful knowledge to a group of fellow-countrymen-newly arrived +from the base, to pad the "Here-We-Come" ranks, which had been +thinned at the Rache attack. + +"What sort of things have we got to remember, Sergeant?" jauntily +asked a lanky Missourian. "We've got the drill pretty pat; and +the trench instructions and--" + +"Gee!" ejaculated Mahan. "I had no idea of that! Then why don't +you walk straight ahead into Berlin? If you know all you say you +do, about war, there's nothing more for you to learn. I'll drop a +line to General Foch and suggest to him that you rookies be +detailed to teach the game to us oldsters." + +"I didn't mean to be fresh," apologized the jaunty one. "Won't +you go ahead and tell us the things we need to remember?" + +"Well," exhorted Mahan, appeased by the newcomer's humility, +"there aren't so many of them, after all. Learn to duck, when you +hear a Minnie grunt or a whizzbang cut loose; or a five-nine +begin to whimper. Learn not to bother to duck when the rifles get +to jabbering--for you'll never hear the bullet that gets you. +Study the nocturnal habits of machine-guns and the ways of +snipers and the right time not to play the fool. And keep saying +to yourself: 'The bullet ain't molded that can get ME!' Mean it +when you say it. When you've learned those few things, the rest +of the war-game is dead easy." + +"Except," timidly amended old Sergeant Vivier, the gray little +Frenchman, "except when eyes are--are what you call it, no use." +"That's right," assented Mahan. "In the times when eyes are no +use, all rules fail. And then the only thing you can do is to +trust to your Yankee luck. I remember--" + +"'When eyes are no use'?" repeated the recruit. "If you mean +after dark, at night--haven't we got the searchlights and the +starshells and all that?" + +"Son," replied Mahan, "we have. Though I don't see how you ever +guessed such an important secret. But since you know everything, +maybe you'll just kindly tell us what good all the lights in the +world are going to do us when the filthy yellow-gray fog begins +to ooze up out of the mud and the shell-holes, and the filthy +gray mist oozes down from the clouds to meet it. Fog is the one +thing that all the war-science won't overcome. A fogpenetrator +hasn't been invented yet. If it had been, there'd be many a husky +lad living today, who has gone West, this past few years, on +account of the fogs. Fog is the boche's pet. It gives Fritzy a +lovely chance to creep up or, us. It--" + +"It is the helper of US, too," suggested old Vivier. "More than +one time, it has kept me safe when I was on patrol. And did it +not help to save us at Rache, when--" + +"The fog may have helped us, one per cent, at Rache," admitted +Mahan. "But Bruce did ninety-nine per cent of the saving." + +"A Scotch general?" asked the recruit, as Vivier nodded cordial +affirmation of Mahan's words, and as others of the old-timers +muttered approval. + +"No," contradicted Mahan. "A Scotch collie. If you were dry +behind the ears, in this life, you wouldn't have to ask who Bruce +is." + +"I don't understand," faltered the rookie, suspicious of a +possible joke. + +"You will soon," Mahan told him. "Bruce will be here to-day. I +heard the K.O. saying the big dog is going to be sent down with +some dispatches or something, from headquarters. It's his first +trip since he was cut up so." + +"I am saving him--this!" proclaimed Vivier, disgorging from the +flotsam of his pocket a lump of once-white sugar. "My wife, she +smuggle three of these to me in her last paquet. One I eat in my +cafe noir; one I present to mon cher vieux, ce bon Mahan; one I +keep for the grand dog what save us all that day." + +"What's the idea?" queried the mystified rookie. "I don't--" + +"We were stuck in the front line of the Rache salient," explained +Mahan, eager to recount his dog-friend's prowess. "On both sides +our supports got word to fall back. We couldn't get the word, +because our telephone connection was knocked galley-west. There +we were, waiting for a Hun attack to wipe us out. We couldn't +fall back, for they were peppering the hillslope behind us. We +were at the bottom. They'd have cut us to ribbons if we'd shown +our carcasses in the open. Bruce was here, with a message he'd +brought. The K.O. sent him back to headquarters for the reserves. +The boche heavies and snipers and machine-guns all cut loose to +stop him as he scooted up the hill. And a measly giant of a +German police dog tried to kill him, too. Bruce got through the +lot of them; and he reached headquarters with the SOS call that +saved us. The poor chap was cut and gouged and torn by bullets +and shell-scraps, and he was nearly dead from shell-shock, too. +But the surgeon general worked over him, himself, and pulled him +back to life. He--" + +"He is a loved pet of a man and a woman in your America, I have +heard one say," chimed in Vivier. "And his home, there, was in +the quiet country. He was lent to the cause, as a patriotic +offering, ce brave! And of a certainty, he has earned his +welcome." + +When Bruce, an hour later, trotted into the trenches, on the way +to the "Here-We-Come" colonel's quarters, he was received like a +visiting potentate. Dozens of men hailed him eagerly by name as +he made his way to his destination with the message affixed to +his collar. + +Many of these men were his well-remembered friends and comrades. +Mahan and Vivier, and one or two more, he had grown to like--as +well as he could like any one in that land of horrors, three +thousand miles away from The Place, where he was born, and from +the Mistress and the Master, who were his loyally worshiped gods. + +Moreover, being only mortal and afflicted with a hearty appetite, +Bruce loved the food and other delicacies the men were forever +offering him as a variation on the stodgy fare dished out to him +and his fellow war-dogs. + +As much to amuse and interest the soldiers whose hero he was, as +for any special importance in the dispatch he carried, Bruce had +been sent now to the trenches of the Here-We-Comes. It was his +first visit to the regiment he had saved, since the days of the +Rache assault two months earlier. Thanks to supremely clever +surgery and to tender care, the dog was little the worse for his +wounds. His hearing gradually had come back. In one shoulder he +had a very slight stiffness which was not a limp, and a +new-healed furrow scarred the left side of his tawny coat. +Otherwise he was as good as new. + +As Bruce trotted toward the group that so recently had been +talking of him, the Missouri recruit watched with interest for +the dog's joy at this reunion with his old friends. Bruce's snowy +chest and black-stippled coat were fluffed out by many recent +baths. His splendid head high and his dark eyes bright, the +collie advanced toward the group. + +Mahan greeted him joyously. Vivier stretched out a hand which +displayed temptingly the long-hoarded lump of sugar. A third man +produced, from nowhere in particular, a large and meat-fringed +soup-bone. + +"I wonder which of you he'll come to, first," said the interested +Missourian. + +The question was answered at once, and right humiliatingly. For +Bruce did not falter in his swinging stride as he came abreast of +the group. Not by so much as a second glance did he notice +Mahan's hail and the tempting food. + +As he passed within six inches of the lump of sugar which Vivier +was holding out to him, the dog's silken ears quivered slightly, +sure sign of hard-repressed emotion in a thoroughbred collie,-- +but he gave no other manifestation that he knew any one was +there. + +"Well, I'll be blessed!" snickered the Missourian in high +derision, as Bruce passed out of sight around an angle of the +trench. "So that's the pup who is such a pal of you fellows, is +he? Gee, but it was a treat to see how tickled he was to meet you +again!" + +To the rookie's amazement none of his hearers seemed in the least +chagrined over the dogs chilling disregard of them. Instead, +Mahan actually grunted approbation. + +"He'll be back," prophesied the Sergeant. "Don't you worry. He'll +be back. We ought to have had more sense than try to stop him +when he's on duty. He has better discipline than the rest of us. +That's one of very first things they teach a courier-dog--to pay +no attention to anybody, when he's on dispatch duty. When Bruce +has delivered his message to the K.O., he'll have the right to +hunt up his chums. And no one knows it better'n Bruce himself." + +"It was a sin--a thoughtlessness--of me to hold the sugar at +him," said old Vivier. "Ah, but he is a so good soldier, ce brave +Bruce! He look not to the left nor yet to the right, nor yet to +the so-desired sugar-lump. He keep his head at attention! All but +the furry tips of his ears. Them he has not yet taught to be good +soldiers. They tremble, when he smell the sugar and the good +soup-bone. They quiver like the little leaf. But he keep on. He--" + +There was a scurry of fast-cantering feet. Around the angle of +the trench dashed Bruce. Head erect, soft dark eyes shining with +a light of gay mischief, he galloped up to the grinning Sergeant +Vivier and stood. The dog's great plume of a tail was wagging +violently. His tulip ears were cocked. His whole interest in life +was fixed on the precious lump of sugar which Vivier held out to +him. + +From puppyhood, Bruce had adored lump sugar. Even at The Place, +sugar had been a rarity for him, for the Mistress and the Master +had known the damage it can wreak upon a dog's teeth and +digestion. Yet, once in a while, as a special luxury, the +Mistress had been wont to give him a solitary lump of sugar. + +Since his arrival in France, the dog had never seen nor scented +such a thing until now. Yet he did not jump for the gift. He did +not try to snatch it from Vivier. Instead, he waited until the +old Frenchman held it closer toward him, with the invitation: + +"Take it, mon vieux! It is for you." + +Then and then only did Bruce reach daintily forward and grip the +grimy bit of sugar between his mighty jaws. Vivier stroked the +collie's head while Bruce wagged his tail and munched the sugar +and blinked gratefully up at the donor. Mahan looked on, +enviously. "A dog's got forty-two teeth, instead of the thirty- +two that us humans have to chew on," observed the Sergeant. "A +vet' told me that once. And sugar is bad for all forty-two of +'em. Maybe you didn't know that, Monsoo Vivier? Likely, at this +rate, we'll have to chip in before long and buy poor Brucie a +double set of false teeth. Just because you've put his real ones +out of business with lumps of sugar!" + +Vivier looked genuinely concerned at this grim forecast. Bruce +wandered across to the place where the donor of the soup-bone +brandished his offering. Other men, too, were crowding around +with gifts. + +Between petting and feeding, the collie spent a busy hour among +his comrades-at-arms. He was to stay with the "Here-We-Comes" +until the following day, and then carry back to headquarters a +reconnaissance report. + +At four o'clock that afternoon the sky was softly blue and the +air was unwontedly clear. By five o'clock a gentle India-summer +haze blurred the world's sharper outlines. By six a blanket-fog +rolled in, and the air was wetly unbreatheable. The fog lay so +thick over the soggy earth that objects ten feet away were +invisible. + +"This," commented Sergeant Mahan, "is one of the times I was +talking about this morning--when eyes are no use. This is sure +the country for fogs, in war-time. The cockneys tell me the +London fogs aren't a patch on 'em." + +The "Here-We-Comes" were encamped, for the while, at the edge of +a sector from whence all military importance had recently been +removed by a convulsive twist of a hundred-mile battle-front. In +this dull hole-in-a-corner the new-arrived rivets were in process +of welding into the more veteran structure of the mixed regiment. + +Not a quarter-mile away--across No Man's Land and athwart two +barriers of barbed wire--lay a series of German trenches. Now, in +all probability, and from all outward signs, the occupants of +this boche position consisted only of a regiment or two which had +been so badly cut up, in a foiled drive, as to need a month of +non-exciting routine before going back into more perilous +service. + +Yet the commander of the division to which the "Here-We-Comes" +were attached did not trust to probabilities nor to outward +signs. He had been at the front long enough to realize that the +only thing likely to happen was the thing which seemed +unlikeliest. And he felt a morbid curiosity to learn more about +the personnel of those dormant German trenches. + +Wherefore he had sent an order that a handful of the "Here-We- +Comes" go forth into No Man's Land, on the first favorable night, +and try to pick up a boche prisoner or two for questioning- +purposes. A scouring of the doubly wired area between the hostile +lines might readily harvest some solitary sentinel or some other +man on special duty, or even the occupants of a listening-post. +And the division commander earnestly desired to question such +prisoner or prisoners. The fog furnished an ideal night for such +an expedition. + +Thus it was that a very young lieutenant and Sergeant Mahan and +ten privates--the lanky Missourian among them--were detailed for +the prisoner-seeking job. At eleven o'clock, they crept over the +top, single file. + +It was a night wherein a hundred searchlights and a million star- +flares would not have made more impression on the density of the +fog than would the striking of a safety match. Yet the twelve +reconnoiterers were instructed to proceed in the cautious manner +customary to such nocturnal expeditions into No Man's Land. They +moved forward at the lieutenant's order, tiptoeing abreast, some +twenty feet apart from one another, and advancing in three-foot +strides. At every thirty steps the entire line was required to +halt and to reestablish contact--in other words, to "dress" on +the lieutenant, who was at the extreme right. + +This maneuver was more time-wasting and less simple than its +recital would imply. For in the dark, unaccustomed legs are +liable to miscalculation in the matter of length of stride, even +when shell-holes and other inequalities of ground do not +complicate the calculations still further. And it is hard to +maintain a perfectly straight line when moving forward through +choking fog and over scores of obstacles. + +The halts for realignment consumed much time and caused no little +confusion. Nervousness began to encompass the Missouri recruit. +He was as brave as the next man. But there is something creepy +about walking with measured tread through an invisible space, +with no sound but the stealthy pad-pad-pad of equally hesitant +footsteps twenty feet away on either side. The Missourian was +grateful for the intervals that brought the men into mutual +contact, as the eerie march continued. + +The first line of barbed wire was cut and passed. Then followed +an endless groping progress across No Man's Land, and several +delays, as one man or another had trouble in finding contact with +his neighbor. + +At last the party came to the German wires. The lieutenant had +drawn on a rubber glove. In his gloved hand he grasped a strip of +steel which he held in front of him, like a wand, fanning the air +with it. + +As he came to the entanglement, he probed the barbed wire +carefully with his wand, watching for an ensuing spark. For the +Germans more than once had been known to electrify their wires, +with fatal results to luckless prowlers. + +These wires, to-night, were not charged. And, with pliers, the +lieutenant and Mahan started to cut a passageway through them. + +As the very first strand parted under his pressure, Mahan laid +one hand warningly on the lieutenant's sleeve, and then passed +the same prearranged warning down the line to the left. + +Silence--moveless, tense, sharply listening silence--followed his +motion. Then the rest of the party heard the sound which Mahan's +keener ears had caught a moment earlier--the thud of many +marching feet. Here was no furtive creeping, as when the twelve +Yankees had moved along. Rather was it the rhythmic beat of at +least a hundred pairs of shapeless army boots--perhaps of more. +The unseen marchers were moving wordlessly, but with no effort at +muffling the even tread of their multiple feet. + +"They're coming this way!" breathed Sergeant Mahan almost without +sound, his lips close to the excited young lieutenant's ear. "And +they're not fifty paces off. That means they're boches. So near +the German wire, our men would either be crawling or else +charging, not marching! It's a company--maybe a battalion--coming +back from a reconnaissance, and making for a gap in their own +wire some where near here. If we lay low there's an off chance +they may pass us by." + +Without awaiting the lieutenant's order, Mahan passed along the +signal for every man to drop to earth and lie there. He all but +forced the eagerly gesticulating lieutenant to the ground. + +On came the swinging tread of the Germans. Mahan, listening +breathlessly, tried to gauge the distance and the direction. He +figured, presently, that the break the Germans had made in their +wire could be only a few yards below the spot where he and the +lieutenant had been at work with the pliers. Thus the intruders, +from their present course, must inevitably pass very close to the +prostrate Americans--so close, perhaps, as to brush against the +nearest of them, or even to step on one or more of the crouching +figures. + +Mahan whispered to the man on his immediate left, the rookie from +Missouri: + +"Edge closer to the wire--close as you can wiggle, and lie flat. +Pass on the word." + +The Missourian obeyed. Before writhing his long body forward +against the bristly mass of wire he passed the instructions on to +the man at his own left. + +But his nerves were at breaking-point. + +It had been bad enough to crawl through the blind fog, with the +ghostly steps of his comrades pattering softly at either side of +him. But it was a thousand times harder to lie helpless here, in +the choking fog and on the soaked ground, while countless enemies +were bearing down, unseen, upon him, on one side, and an +impenetrable wire cut off his retreat on the other. + +The Missourian had let his imagination begin to work; always a +mistake in a private soldier. He was visualizing the moment when +this tramping German force should become aware of the presence of +their puny foes and should slaughter them against the merciless +wires. It would not be a fair stand-up fight, this murder-rush of +hundreds of men against twelve who were penned in and could not +maneuver nor escape. And the thought of it was doing queer things +to the rookie's overwrought nerves. + +Having passed the word to creep closer to the wires, he began to +execute the order in person, with no delay at all. But he was a +fraction of a second too late. The Germans were moving in hike- +formation with "points" thrown out in advance to either side--a +"point" being a private soldier who, for scouting and other +purposes, marches at some distance from the main body. + +The point, ahead of the platoon, had swerved too far to the left, +in the blackness--an error that would infallibly have brought him +up against the wires, with considerable force, in another two +steps. But the Missourian was between him and the wires. And the +point's heavy-shod foot came down, heel first, on the back of the +rookie's out-groping hand. Such a crushing impact, on the +hand-back, is one of the most agonizing minor injuries a man can +sustain. And this fact the Missourian discovered with great +suddenness. + +His too-taut nerves forced from his throat a yell that split the +deathly stillness with an ear-piercing vehemence. He sprang to +his feet, forgetful of orders intent only on thrusting his +bayonet through the Hun who had caused such acute torture to his +hand. Half way up, the rookie's feet went out from under him in +the slimy mud. He caromed against the point, then fell headlong. + +The German, doubtless thinking he had stumbled upon a single +stray American scout, whirled his own rifle aloft, to dash out +the brains of his luckless foe. But before the upflung butt could +descend,--before the rookie could rise or dodge,--the point added +his quota to the rude breaking of the night's silence. He +screamed in panic terror, dropped his brandished gun and reeled +backward, clawing at his own throat. + +For out of the eerie darkness, something had launched itself at +him--something silent and terrible, that had flown to the +Missourian's aid. Down with a crash went the German, on his back. +He rolled against the Missourian, who promptly sought to grapple +with him. + +But even as he clawed for the German, the rookie's nerves wrung +from him a second yell--this time less of rage than of horror. + +"Sufferin' cats!" he bellowed. "Why didn't anybody ever tell me +Germans was covered with fur instead of clothes?" + +The boche platoon was no longer striding along in hike- +formation. It was broken up into masses of wildly running men, +all of them bearing down upon the place whence issued this +ungodly racket and turmoil. Stumbling, reeling, blindly falling +and rising again, they came on. + +Some one among them loosed a rifle-shot in the general direction +of the yelling. A second and a third German rifleman followed the +example of the first. From the distant American trenches, one or +two snipers began to pepper away toward the enemy lines, though +the fog was too thick for them, to see the German rifle-flashes. + +The boches farthest to the left, in the blind rush, fouled with +the wires. German snipers, from behind the Hun parapets, opened +fire. A minute earlier the night had been still as the grave. Now +it fairly vibrated with clangor. All because one rookie's nerves +had been less staunch than his courage, and because that same +rookie had not only had his hand stepped on in the dark, but had +encountered something swirling and hairy when he grabbed for the +soldier who had stepped on him! + + +The American lieutenant, at the onset of the clamor, sprang to +his feet, whipping out his pistol; his dry lips parted in a +command to charge--a command which, naturally, would have reduced +his eleven men and himself to twelve corpses or to an equal +number of mishandled prisoners within the next few seconds. But a +big hand was clapped unceremoniously across the young officer's +mouth, silencing the half-spoken suicidal order. + +Sergeant Mahan's career in the regular army had given him an +almost uncanny power of sizing up his fellowmen. And he had long +ago decided that this was the sort of thing his untried +lieutenant would be likely to do, in just such an emergency. +Wherefore his flagrant breach of discipline in shoving his palm +across the mouth of his superior officer. + +And as he was committing this breach of discipline, he heard the +Missourian's strangled gasp of: + +"Why didn't anybody ever tell me Germans was covered with fur?" + +In a flash Mahan understood. Wheeling, he stooped low and flung +out both arms in a wide-sweeping circle. Luckily his right hand's +fingertips, as they completed the circle, touched something +fast-moving and furry. + +"Bruce!" he whispered fiercely, tightening his precarious grip on +the wisp of fur his fingers had touched. "Bruce! Stand still, +boy! It's YOU who's got to get us clear of this! Nobody else, +short of the good Lord, can do it!" + +Bruce had had a pleasantly lazy day with his friends in the +first-line trenches. There had been much good food and more +petting. And at last, comfortably tired of it all, he had gone to +sleep. He had awakened in a most friendly mood, and a little +hungry. Wherefore he had sallied forth in search of human +companionship. He found plenty of soldiers who were more than +willing to talk to him and make much of him. But, a little +farther ahead, he saw his good friend, Sergeant Mahan, and others +of his acquaintances, starting over the parapet on what promised +to be a jolly evening stroll. + +All dogs find it hard to resist the mysterious lure of a walk in +human companionship. True, the night was not an ideal one for a +ramble, and the fog had a way of congealing wetly on Bruce's +shaggy coat. Still, a damp coat was not enough of a discomfort to +offset the joy of a stroll with his friends. So Bruce had +followed the twelve men quietly into No Man's Land, falling +decorously into step behind Mahan. + +It had not been much of a walk, for speed or for fun. For the +humans went ridiculously slowly, and had an eccentric way of +bunching together, every now and again, and then of stringing out +into a shambling line. Still, it was a walk, and therefore better +than loafing behind in the trenches. And Bruce had kept his +noiseless place at the Sergeant's heels. + +Then--long before Mahan heard the approaching tramp of feet-- +Bruce caught not only the sound but the scent of the German +platoon. The scent at once told him that the strangers were not +of his own army. A German soldier and an American soldier-- +because of their difference in diet as well as for certain other +and more cogent reasons--have by no means the same odor, to a +collie's trained scent, nor to that of other breeds of war-dogs. +Official records of dog-sentinels prove that. + +Aliens were nearing Bruce's friends. And the dog's ruff began to +stand up. But Mahan and the rest seemed in no way concerned in +spirit thereby--though, to the dog's understanding, they must +surely be aware of the approach. So Bruce gave no further sign of +displeasure. He was out for a walk, as a guest. He was not on +sentry-duty. + +But when the nearest German was almost upon them, and all twelve +Americans dropped to the ground, the collie became interested +once more. A German stepped on the hand of one of his newest +friends. And the friend yelled in pain. Whereat the German made +as if to strike the stepped-on man. + +This was quite enough for loyal Bruce. Without so much as a growl +of warning, he jumped at the offender. + +Dog and man tumbled earthward together. Then after an instant of +flurry and noise, Bruce felt Mahan's fingers on his shoulder and +heard the stark appeal of Mahan's whispered voice. Instantly the +dog was a professional soldier once more--alertly obedient and +resourceful. + +"Catch hold my left arm, Lieutenant!" Mahan was exhorting. "Close +up, there, boys--every man's hand grabbing tight to the shoulder +of the man on his left! Pass the word. And you, Missouri, hang +onto the Lieutenant! Quick, there! And tread soft and tread fast, +and don't let go, whatever happens! Not a sound out of any one! +I'm leading the way. And Bruce is going to lead me." + +There was a scurrying scramble as the men groped for one another. +Mahan tightened his hold on Bruce's mane. + +"Bruce!" he said, very low, but with a strength of appeal that +was not lost on the listening dog. "Bruce! Camp! Back to CAMP! +And keep QUIET! Back to camp, boy! CAMP!" + +He had no need to repeat his command so often and so strenuously. +Bruce was a trained courier. The one word "Camp!" was quite +enough to tell him what he was to do. + +Turning, he faced the American lines and tried to break into a +gallop. His scent and his knowledge of direction were all the +guides he needed. A dog always relies on his nose first and his +eyes last. The fog was no obstacle at all to the collie. He +understood the Sergeant's order, and he set out at once to obey +it. + +But at the very first step, he was checked. Mahan did not release +that feverishly tight hold on his mane, but merely shifted to his +collar. + +Bruce glanced back, impatient at the delay. But Mahan did not let +go. Instead he said once more: + +"CAMP, boy!" + +And Bruce understood he was expected to make his way to camp, +with Mahan hanging on to his collar. + +Bruce did not enjoy this mode of locomotion. It was inconvenient, +and there seemed no sense in it; but there were many things about +this strenuous war-trade that Bruce neither enjoyed nor +comprehended, yet which he performed at command. + +So again he turned campward, Mahan at his collar and an +annoyingly hindering tail of men stumbling silently on behind +them. All around were the Germans--butting drunkenly through the +blanket-dense fog, swinging their rifles like flails, shouting +confused orders, occasionally firing. Now and then two or more of +them would collide and would wrestle in blind fury, thinking they +had encountered an American. + +Impeded by their own sightlessly swarming numbers, as much as by +the impenetrable darkness, they sought the foe. And but for Bruce +they must quickly have found what they sought. Even in compact +form, the Americans could not have had the sheer luck to dodge +every scattered contingent of Huns which starred the German end +of No Man's Land--most of them between the fugitives and the +American lines. + +But Bruce was on dispatch duty. It was his work to obey commands +and to get back to camp at once. It was bad enough to be +handicapped by Mahan's grasp on his collar. He was not minded to +suffer further delay by running into any of the clumps of +gesticulating and cabbage-reeking Germans between him and his +goal. So he steered clear of such groups, making several wide +detours in order to do so. Once or twice he stopped short to let +some of the Germans grope past him, not six feet away. Again he +veered sharply to the left--increasing his pace and forcing Mahan +and the rest to increase theirs--to avoid a squad of thirty men +who were quartering the field in close formation, and who all but +jostled the dog as they strode sightlessly by. An occasional +rifle-shot spat forth its challenge. From both trench-lines men +were firing at a venture. A few of the bullets sang nastily close +to the twelve huddled men and their canine leader. Once a German, +not three yards away, screamed aloud and fell sprawling and +kicking, as one such chance bullet found him. Above and behind, +sounded the plop of star-shells sent up by the enemy in futile +hope of penetrating the viscid fog. And everywhere was heard the +shuffle and stumbling of innumerable boots. + +At last the noise of feet began to die away, and the uneven +groping tread of the twelve Americans to sound more distinctly +for the lessening of the surrounding turmoil. And in another few +seconds Bruce came to a halt--not to an abrupt stop, as when he +had allowed an enemy squad to pass in front of him, but a +leisurely checking of speed, to denote that he could go no +farther with the load he was helping to haul. + +Mahan put out his free hand. It encountered the American wires. +Bruce had stopped at the spot where the party had cut a narrow +path through the entanglement on the outward journey. Alone, the +dog could easily have passed through the gap, but he could not be +certain of pulling Mahan with him. Wherefore the halt. + + * * * * * * * * * * * + +The last of the twelve men scrambled down to safety, in the +American first-line trench, Bruce among them. The lieutenant went +straight to his commanding officer, to make his report. Sergeant +Mahan went straight to his company cook, whom he woke from a +snoreful sleep. Presently Mahan ran back to where the soldiers +were gathered admiringly around Bruce. + +The Sergeant carried a chunk of fried beef, for which he had just +given the cook his entire remaining stock of cigarettes. + +"Here you are, Bruce!" he exclaimed. "The best in the shop is +none too good for the dog that got us safe out of that filthy +mess. Eat hearty!" + +Bruce did not so much as sniff at the (more or less) tempting bit +of meat. Coldly he looked up at Mahan. Then, with sensitive ears +laid flat against his silken head, in token of strong contempt, +he turned his back on the Sergeant and walked away. + +Which was Bruce's method of showing what he thought of a human +fool who would give him a command and who would then hold so +tightly to him that the dog could hardly carry out the order. + + + +CHAPTER V The Double Cross + +In the background lay a landscape that had once been beautiful. +In the middle distance rotted a village that had once been alive. +In the foreground stood an edifice that had once been a church. +The once-beautiful landscape had the look of a gigantic +pockmarked face, so scored was it by shell-scar and crater. Its +vegetation was swept away. Its trees were shattered stumps. Its +farmsteads were charred piles of rubble. + +The village was unlike the general landscape, in that it had +never been beautiful. In spite of globe-trotters' sentimental +gush, not all villages of northern France were beautiful. Many +were built for thrift and for comfort and for expediency; not for +architectural or natural loveliness. + +But this village of Meran-en-Laye was not merely deprived of what +beauty it once might or might not have possessed. Except by +courtesy it was no longer a village at all. It was a double row +of squalid ruins, zig-zagging along the two sides of what was +left of its main street. Here and there a cottage or tiny shop or +shed was still habitable. The rest was debris. + +The church in the foreground was recognizable as such by the +shape and size of its ragged walls, and by a half-smashed image +of the Virgin and Child which slanted out at a perilous angle +above its façade. + +Yet, miserable as the ruined hamlet seemed to the casual eye, it +was at present a vacation-resort--and a decidedly welcome one--to +no less than three thousand tired men. The wrecked church was an +impromptu hospital beneath whose shattered roof dozens of these +men lay helpless on makeshift cots. + +For the mixed American and French regiment known as the "Here-We- +Comes" was billeted at Meran-en-Laye during a respite from the +rigors and perils of the front-line trenches. + +The rest and the freedom from risks, supposed to be a part of the +"billeting" system, were not wholly the portion of the "Here-We +Comes." Meran--en--Laye was just then a somewhat important little +speck on the warmap. + +The Germans had been up to their favorite field sport of trying +to split in half two of the Allied armies, and to roll up each, +independently. The effort had been a failure; yet it had come so +near to success that many railway communications were cut off or +deflected. And Meran-en-Laye had for the moment gained new +importance, by virtue of a spur railway-line which ran through +its outskirts and which made junction with a new set of tracks +the American engineers were completing. Along this transverse of +roads much ammunition and food and many fighting men were daily +rushed. + +The safety of the village had thus become of much significance. +While it was too far behind the lines to be in grave danger of +enemy raids, yet such danger existed to some extent. Wherefore +the presence of the "Here-We-Comes"--for the paradoxical double +purpose of "resting up" and of guarding the railway Function. + +Still, it was better than trench-work; and the "Here-We-Comes" +enjoyed it--for a day or so. Then trouble had set in. + +A group of soldiers were lounging on the stone seat in front of +the village estaminet. Being off duty, they were reveling in that +popular martial pastime known to the Tommy as "grousing" and to +the Yankee doughboy as "airing a grouch." + +Top-Sergeant Mahan, formerly of the regular army, was haranguing +the others. Some listened approvingly, others dissentingly and +others not at all. + +"I tell you," Mahan declared for the fourth time, "somebody's +double-crossing us again. There's a leak. And if they don't find +out where it is, a whole lot of good men and a million dollars' +worth of supplies are liable to spill out through that same leak. +It--" + +"But," argued his crony, old Sergeant Vivier, in his hard- +learned English, "but it may all be of a chance, mon vieux. It +may, not be the doubled cross,--whatever a doubled cross means,-- +but the mere chance. Such things often--" + +"Chance, my grandmother's wall-eyed cat!" snorted Mahan. "Maybe +it might have been chance--when this place hadn't been bombed for +a month--for a whole flight of boche artillery and airship +grenades to cut loose against it the day General Pershing +happened to stop here for an hour on his way to Chateau-Thierry. +Maybe that was chance--though I know blamed well it wasn't. Maybe +it was chance that the place wasn't bombed again till two days +ago, when that troop-train had to spend such a lot of time +getting shunted at the junction. Maybe it was chance that the +church, over across the street, hadn't been touched since the +last drive, till our regiment's wounded were put in it--and that +it's been hit three times since then. Maybe any one of those +things--and of a dozen others was chance. But it's a cinch that +ALL of them weren't chance. Chance doesn't work that way. I--" + +"Perhaps," doubtfully assented old Vivier, "perhaps. But I little +like to believe it. For it means a spy. And a spy in one's midst +is like to a snake in one's blankets. It is a not pleasing +comrade. And it stands in sore need of killing." + +"There's spies everywhere," averred Mahan. "That's been proved +often enough. So why not here? But I wish to the Lord I could lay +hands on him! If this was one of the little sheltered villages, +in a valley, his work would be harder. And the boche airships and +the long-rangers wouldn't find us such a simple target. But up +here on this ridge, all a spy has to do is to flash a signal, any +night, that a boche airman can pick up or that can even be seen +with good glasses from some high point where it can be relayed to +the German lines. The guy who laid out this burg was sure +thoughtless. He might have known there'd be a war some day. He +might even have strained his mind and guessed that we'd be stuck +here. Gee!" + +He broke off with a grunt of disgust; nor did he so much as +listen to another of the group who sought to lure him into an +opinion as to whether the spy might be an inhabitant of the +village or a camp-follower. + +Sucking at his pipe; the Sergeant glowered moodily down the +ruined street. The village drowsed under the hot midday. Here and +there a soldier lounged along aimlessly or tried out his +exercise-book French on some puzzled, native. Now and then an +officer passed in or out of the half-unroofed mairie which served +as regimental headquarters. + +Beyond, in the handkerchief-sized village square, a platoon was +drilling. A thin French housewife was hanging sheets on a line +behind a shell-twisted hovel. A Red Cross nurse came out of the +hospital-church across the street from the estaminet and seated +herself on the stone steps with a basketful of sewing. + +Mahan's half-shut eyes rested critically on the drilling +platoon--amusedly on the woman who was so carefully hanging the +ragged sheets,--and then approvingly upon the Red Cross nurse on +the church steps across the way. + +Mahan, like most other soldiers, honored and revered the Red +Cross for its work of mercy in the army. And the sight of one of +the several local nurses of the Order won from him a glance of +real approbation. + +But presently into his weather-beaten face came an expression of +glad welcome. Out of the mairie gate and into the sleepy warmth +of the street lounged a huge dark-brown-and-white collie. The don +stretched himself lazily, fore and aft, in true collie style, +then stood gazing about him as if in search of something of +interest to occupy his bored attention. + +"Hello!" observed Mahan, breaking in on a homily of Vivier's. +"There's Bruce!" + +Vivier's leathery face brightened at sound of the collie's name. +He looked eagerly in the direction of Mahan's pointing finger. + +"Ce brave!" exclaimed the Frenchman. "I did not know even that he +was in the village. It must be he is but new-arriven. Otherwise +he would, of an assuredly, have hunted up his old friends. Ohe, +Bruce!" he called invitingly. + +"The big dog must have gotten here just a few minutes ago," said +Sergeant Mahan. "He was coming out of headquarters when I saw +him. That must mean he's just struck the town, and with a message +for the K.O. He always goes like greased lightning when he's on +dispatch duty, till he has delivered his message. Then, if he's +to be allowed to hang around a while before he's sent back, he +loafs, lazy-like; the way you see him now. If all the courier- +dogs were like him, every human courier would be out of a job." + +At Vivier's hail the great collie had pricked his ears and +glanced inquiringly up and down the street. Catching sight of the +group seated in front of the estaminet, he began to wag his plumy +tail and set off toward them at a trot. + +Ten minutes earlier, Bruce had cantered into Meran-en-Laye from +the opposite end of the street, bearing in his collar a dispatch +from the corps commander to the colonel of the "Here-We-Comes." +The colonel, at the mairie, had read the dispatch and had patted +its bearer; then had bidden the dog lie down and rest, if he +chose, after his long run. + +Instead, Bruce had preferred to stroll out in search of friends. + +Top-Sergeant Mahan, by the way, would have felt highly flattered +had he chanced to get a glimpse of the dispatch Bruce had brought +to the colonel. For it bore out Mahan's own theory regarding the +presence of spies at or near the village, and it bade the "Here- +We-Come" colonel use every means for tracing them. + +It added the information that three troop-trains with nine +engines were to pass through the village that night on their way +to the trenches, and that the trains were due at the junction at +nine o'clock or shortly thereafter. The mairie was on the other +side of the street from the estaminet. Incidentally, it was on +the shady side of the street--for which reason Bruce,--being +wise, and the day being hot,--remained on that side, until he +should come opposite the bench where his friends awaited him. + +His course, thus, brought him directly past the church. + +As he trotted by the steps, the Red Cross nurse, who sat sewing +there, chirped timidly at him. Bruce paused in his leisurely +progress to see who had accosted him whether an old acquaintance, +to be greeted as such, or merely a pleasantly inclined stranger. + +His soft brown eyes rested first in idle inquiry upon the angular +and white-robed figure on the steps. Then, on the instant, the +friendly inquiring look left his eyes and their softness went +with it--leaving the dog's gaze cold and frankly hostile. + +One corner of Bruce's lips slowly lifted, revealing a tiny view +of the terrible white fangs behind them. His gayly erect head was +lowered, and in the depths of his furry throat a growl was born. +When a dog barks and holds his head up, there is little enough to +fear from him. But when he lowers his head and growl--then look +out. + +Mahan knew dogs. In stark amazement he now noted Bruce's strange +attitude toward the nurse. Never before had he seen the dog show +active hostility toward a stranger--least of all toward a +stranger who had in no way molested him. It was incredible that +the wontedly dignified and sweet-tempered collie had thus +returned a greeting. Especially from a woman! + +Mahan had often seen Red Cross nurses stop to caress Bruce. He +had been amused at the dog's almost protective cordiality toward +all women, whether the French peasants or the wearers of the +brassard of mercy. + +Toward men--except those he had learned to look on as friends-- +the collie always comported himself with a courteous aloofness +But he had seemed to regard every woman as something to be +humored and guarded and to be treated with the same cordial +friendliness that he bestowed on their children--which is the way +of the best type of collie. Yet Bruce had actually snarled at +this woman who had chirped to him from the steps of the church! +And he showed every sign of following up the challenge by still +more drastic measures. + +"Bruce!" called Mahan sharply. "BRUCE! Shame! Come over here! +Come, NOW!" + +At the Sergeant's vehement summons Bruce turned reluctantly away +from the foot of the church steps and came across the street +toward the estaminet. He came slowly. Midway he halted and looked +back over his shoulder at the nurse, his fangs glinting once more +in a snarl. At a second and more emphatic call from Mahan the dog +continued his progress. + +The nurse had started back in alarm at the collie's angry +demonstration. Now, gathering up her work, she retreated into the +church. + +"I'm sorry, Miss!" Mahan shouted after her. "I never saw him that +way, before, when a lady spoke to him. If it was any dog but old +Bruce, I'd give him a whaling for acting like that to you. I'm +dead-sure he didn't mean any harm." + +"Oh, I was going in, anyway," replied the nurse, from the +doorway. "It is of no consequence." + +She spoke nervously, her rich contralto voice shaken by the dog's +fierce show of enmity. Then she vanished into the church; and +Mahan and Vivier took turns in lecturing Bruce on his shameful +dearth of courtesy. + +The big dog paid no heed at all to his friends' discourse. He was +staring sullenly at the doorway through which the nurse had gone. + +"That's one swell way for a decently bred dog to treat a woman!" +Mahan was telling him. "Least of all, a Red Cross nurse! I'm +clean ashamed of you!" + +Bruce did not listen. In his heart he was still angry--and very +much perplexed as well. For he knew what these stupid humans did +not seem to know. + +HE KNEW THE RED CROSS NURSE WAS NO WOMAN AT ALL, BUT A MAN. + +Bruce knew, too, that the nurse did not belong to his loved +friends of the Red Cross. For his uncanny power of scent told him +the garments worn by the impostor belonged to some one else. To +mere humans, a small and slender man, who can act, and who dons +woman's garb, is a woman. To any dog, such a man is no more like +a woman than a horse with a lambskin saddle-pad is a lamb. He is +merely a man who is differently dressed from other men--even as +this man who had chirped to Bruce, from the church steps, was no +less a man for the costume in which he had swathed his body. Any +dog, at a glance and at a sniff, would have known that. + +Women, for one thing, do not usually smoke dozens of rank cigars +daily for years, until their flesh is permeated with the smell of +tobacco. A human could not have detected such a smell--such a +MAN-smell,--on the person who had chirped to Bruce. Any dog, +twenty feet away, would have noticed it, and would have tabulated +the white-clad masquerader as a man. Nor do a woman's hair and +skin carry the faint but unmistakable odor of barracks and of +tent-life and of martial equipment, as did this man's. The +masquerader was evidently not only a man but a soldier. + +Dogs,--high-strung dogs,--do not like to have tricks played on +them; least of all by strangers. Bruce seemed to take the +nurse-disguise as a personal affront to himself. Then, too, the +man was not of his own army. On the contrary, the scent +proclaimed him one of the horde whom Bruce's friends so +manifestly hated--one of the breed that had more than once fired +on the dog. + +Diet and equipment and other causes give a German soldier a +markedly different scent, to dogs' miraculously keen nostrils,-- +and to those of certain humans,--from the French or British or +American troops. War records prove this. Once having learned the +scent, and having learned to detest it, Bruce was not to be +deceived. + +For all these reasons he had snarled loathingly at the man in +white. For these same reasons he could not readily forget the +incident, but continued every now and then to glance curiously +across toward the church. + +Presently,--not relishing the rebukes of the friends who had +heretofore pestered him by overmuch petting,--the collie arose +quietly from his couch of trampled earth at the foot of the stone +bench and strolled back across the street. Most of the men were +too busy, talking, to note Bruce's departure. But Sergeant Mahan +caught sight of him just as the dog was mounting the last of the +steps leading into the church. + +As a rule, when Bruce went investigating, he walked carelessly +and with his tail slightly a-wag. Now his tail was stiff as an +icicle, and he moved warily, on the tips of his toes. His tawny- +maned neck was low. Mahan, understanding dogs, did not like the +collie's demeanor. Remembering that the nurse had entered the +church a few minutes earlier, the Sergeant got to his feet and +hastily followed Bruce. + +The dog, meanwhile, had passed through the crazily splintered +doorway and had paused on the threshold of the improvised +hospital, as the reek of iodoform and of carbolic smote upon his +sensitive nostrils. In front of him was the stone-paved +vestibule. Beyond was the interior of the shattered church, lined +now with double rows of cots. + +Seated on a camp-chair in the shadowy vestibule was the pseudo +Red Cross nurse. At sight of the collie the nurse got up in some +haste. Bruce, still walking stiff-legged, drew closer. + +Out from under the white skirt flashed a capable and solidly- +shod foot. In a swinging kick, the foot let drive at the oncoming +dog. Before Bruce could dodge or could so much as guess what was +coming,--the kick smote him with agonizing force, square on the +shoulder. + +To a spirited collie, a kick carries more than the mere pain of +its inflicting. It is a grossly unforgivable affront as well--as +many a tramp and thief have learned, at high cost. + +By the time the kick had fairly landed, Bruce had recovered from +his instant of incredulous surprise; and with lightning swiftness +he hurled himself at his assailant. + +No bark or growl heralded the murderous throatlunge. It was all +the more terrible for the noiselessness wherewith it was +delivered. The masquerading man saw it coming, just too late to +guard against it. He lurched backward, belatedly throwing both +hands up to defend his throat. It was the involuntary backward +step which saved his jugular. For his heel caught in the hem of +his white skirt. And wholly off balance, he pitched headlong to +the floor. + +This jerky shift of position, on the part of the foe, spoiled +Bruce's aim. His fearful jaws snapped together harmlessly in +empty air at a spot where, a fraction of a second earlier, the +other's throat had been. Down crashed the disguised man. And atop +of him the furious dog hurled himself, seeking a second time the +throatgrip he had so narrowly missed. + +At this point on the program Sergeant Mahan arrived just in time +to bury both hands in the mass of Bruce's furry ruff and to drag +the snarlingly rabid dog back from his prey. + +The place was in an uproar. Nurses and doctors came rushing out +into the vestibule; sick and wounded men sat up on their cots and +eagerly craned their necks to catch sight of the scrimmage. +Soldiers ran in from the street. + +Strong as he was, Mahan had both hands full in holding the +frantic Bruce back from his enemy. Under the insult of the kick +from this masquerader, whom he had already recognized as a foe, +the collie had temporarily lost every vestige of his stately +dignity. He was for the moment merely a wild beast, seeking +revenge for a brutal injury. He writhed and fought in Mahan's +grasp. Never once did he seek to attack the struggling man who +held him. But he strained every giant sinew to get at the foe who +had kicked him. + +The dog's opponent scrambled to his feet, helped by a dozen +willing hands and accosted by as many solicitous voices. The +victim's face was bone-gray with terror. His lips twitched +convulsively. Yet, as befitted a person in his position, he had a +splendid set of nerves. And almost at once he recovered partial +control over himself. + +"I--I don't know how it happened," he faltered, his rich +contralto voice shaky with the ground-swells of his recent shock. +"It began when I was sitting on the steps, sewing. This dog came +past. He growled at me so threateningly that I came indoors. A +minute later, while I was sitting here sewing, he sprang at me +and threw me down. I believe he would--would have killed me," the +narrator finished, with a very genuine shudder, "if I had not +been rescued when I was. Such bloodthirsty brutes ought to be +shot!" + +"He not only OUGHT to be," hotly agreed the chief surgeon, "but +he is GOING to be. Take him out into the street, one of you men, +and put a ball in his head." + +The surgeon turned to the panting nurse. + +"You're certain he didn't hurt you?" he asked. "I don't want a +newcomer, like yourself, to think this is the usual treatment our +nurses get. Lie down and rest. You look scared to death. And +don't be nervous about the cur attacking you again. He'll be dead +inside of three minutes." + +The nurse, with a mumbled word of thanks, scuttled off into the +rear of the church, where the tumbledown vestry had been fitted +up as a dormitory. + +Bruce had calmed down somewhat under Mahan's sharp reproof. But +he now struggled afresh to get at his vanished quarry. And again +the Sergeant had a tussle to hold him. + +"I don't know what's got into the big fellow!" exclaimed Mahan to +Vivier as the old Frenchman joined the tumultuous group. "He's +gone clean daft. He'd of killed that poor woman, if I hadn't--" + +"Get him out of here!" ordered the surgeon. "And clear out, +yourselves, all of you! This rumpus has probably set a lot of my +patients' temperatures to rocketing. Take the cur out and shoot +him!" + +"Excuse me, sir," spoke up Mahan, as Vivier stared aghast at the +man who commanded Bruce's destruction, "but he's no cur. He's a +courier-collie, officially in the service of the United States +Government. And he's the best courier-dog in France to-day. This +is--" + +"I don't care what he is!" raged the surgeon. "He--" + +"This is Bruce," continued Mahan, "the dog that saved the 'Here- +We-Comes' at Rache, and that steered a detail of us to safety one +night in the fog, in the Chateau-Thierry sector. If you order any +man of the 'Here-We-Comes' to shoot Bruce, you're liable to have +a mutiny on your hands--officer or no officer. But if you wish, +sir, I can transmit your order to the K.O. If he endorses it--" + +But the surgeon sought, at that moment, to save the remnants of +his dignity and of a bad situation by stalking loftily back into +the hospital, and leaving Mahan in the middle of his speech. + +"Or, sir," the Sergeant grinningly called after him, "you might +write to the General Commanding, and tell him you want Bruce +shot. The Big Dog always sleeps in the general's own room, when +he's off-duty, at Division Headquarters. Maybe the general will +O.K. his death-sentence, if you ask him to. He--" + +Somewhat quickening his stately stride, the surgeon passed out of +earshot. At the officers' mess of the "Here-We-Comes," he had +often heard Bruce's praises sung. He had never chanced to see the +dog until now. But, beneath his armor of dignity, he quaked to +think what the results to himself must have been, had he obeyed +his first impulse of drawing his pistol and shooting the adored +and pricelessly useful collie. + +Mahan,--stolidly rejoicing in his victory over the top-lofty +potentate whom he disliked,--led the way out of the crowded +vestibule into the street. Bruce followed demurely at his heels +and Vivier bombarded everybody in sight for information as to +what the whole fracas was about. + +Bruce was himself again. Now that the detested man in woman's +clothes had gone away, there was no sense in continuing to +struggle or to waste energy in a show of fury. Nevertheless, in +his big heart burned deathless hatred toward the German who had +kicked him. And, like an elephant, a collie never forgets. + +"But," Vivier was demanding of everybody, "but why should the +gentle Bruce have attacked a good nurse? It is not what you call +'make-sense.' C'est un gentilhomme, ce vieux! He would not attack +a woman less still a sister of the Red Cross. He--" + +"Of course he wouldn't," glumly assented the downhearted Mahan. +"But he DID. That's the answer. I saw him do it. He knocked her +down and--" + +"Which nurse was she?" asked a soldier who had come up after the +trouble was over. + +"A new one here. I don't know her name. She came last week. I saw +her when she got here. I was on duty at the K.O.'s office when +she reported. She had a letter from some one on the surgeon- +general's staff. But why Bruce should have gone for her to-day-- +or for any woman--is more than I can see. She was scared half to +death. It's lucky she heard the surgeon order him shot. She'll +suppose he's dead, by now. And that'll cure her scare. We must +try to keep Bruce away from this end of the street till he goes +back to headquarters to-morrow." + +As a result Bruce was coaxed to Mahan's company-shed and by dint +of food-gifts and petting was induced to spend most of the day +there. + +At sunset Bruce tired of his dull surroundings. Mahan had gone on +duty; so had Vivier; so had others of his friends. The dog was +bored and lonely. Also he had eaten much. And a walk is good, not +only for loneliness, but for settling an overfull stomach. Bruce +decided to go for a walk. + +Through the irregular street of the village he picked his way, +and on toward the open country beyond. A sentry or two snapped +fingers of greeting to him as he strolled past them. The folk of +the village eyed his bulk and graceful dignity with something +like awe. + +Beyond the hamlet the ridge of hilltop ran on for perhaps a +quarter-mile before dipping into the plain below. At one end of +this little plateau a company of infantry was drilling. Bruce +recognized Mahan among the marching lines, but he saw his friend +was on duty and refrained from going up to him. + +Above, the sunset sky was cloudless. Like tiny specks, miles to +eastward, a few enemy airships circled above the heap of +clustered hills which marked the nearest German position. The +torn-up plain, between, seemed barren of life. So, at first, did +the farther end of the jutting ridge on which the village was +perched. But presently Bruce's idly wandering eye was caught by a +flutter of white among some boulders that clumped together on the +ridge's brow farthest from the village. + +Some one--a woman, from the dress--was apparently picking her way +through the boulders. As Bruce moved forward, a big rock shut her +off from his view and from the view of the hamlet and of the +maneuvering infantry company a furlong away. + +Just then a puff of breeze blew from eastward toward the collie; +and it bore to him a faint scent that set his ruff a-bristle and +his soft brown eyes ablaze. To a dog, a scent once smelled is as +recognizable again as is the sight of a once-seen face to a +human. Bruce set off at a hand-gallop toward the clump of +boulders. + +The Red Cross nurse, whom Bruce had so nearly killed, was off +duty until the night-shift should go on at the hospital. The +nurse had taken advantage of this brief surcease from toil, by +going for a little walk in the cool sunset air, and had carried +along a bag of sewing. + +Up to three months ago this nurse had been known as Heinrich +Stolz, and had been a valued member of the Wilhelmstrasse's +workingforce of secret agents. Then, acting under orders, Herr +Heinrich Stolz had vanished from his accustomed haunts. Soon +thereafter a Red Cross nurse--Felicia Stuart by name had reported +for duty at Paris, having been transferred thither from Italy, +and bearing indubitable credentials to that effect. + +From carefully picked-up information Stolz had just learned of +the expected arrival of the three troop-trains at the junction at +nine that evening. The tidings had interested him keenly, and he +knew of other people to whom they would be far more interesting. + +Seating himself under the lee of the easternmost rock, Stolz +primly opened his sewing-bag and drew forth various torn +garments. The garments were for the most part white, but one or +two were of gaudy colors. + +By way of precaution, in case of discovery, the spy threaded a +needle. Thus, if any one should chance to see him shake out a +garment, preparatory to laying it on his knee and mending it, +there could be no reasonable cause for suspicion. Herr Stolz was +nothing if not efficient. + +He held up the needle and poked the thread at its eye in truly +feminine fashion. + +He had just finished this feat of dexterity when he chanced to +look up from his work at sound of fast-pattering feet. Not thirty +feet away, charging head on at him, rushed the great brown-and- +white collie he supposed had been shot. + +With a jump of abject terror, Herr Stolz sprang up. Mingled with +his normal fear of the dog was a tinge of superstitious dread. He +had been so certain the beast was shot! The doctor had given the +order for his killing. The doctor was a commissioned officer. +Stolz's German mind could not grasp the possibility of a soldier +disobeying an officer's imperative command. + +The collie was upon him by the time the spy gained his feet. +Stolz reached frantically under his dress-folds for the deadly +little pistol that he always kept there. But he was still a +novice in the mysteries of feminine apparel. And, before his +fingers could close on the weapon, Bruce's bared fangs were +gleaming at his throat. + +Stolz ceased to search for the weapon. And, as before, he threw +up both frantic hands to ward off the furious jaws. + +He was barely in time. Bruce's white teeth drove deep into the +spy's forearm, and Bruce's eighty pounds of furry muscular bulk +smote Stolz full in the chest. Down went the spy, under the +terrific impact, sprawling wildly on his back, and fighting with +both bleeding hands to push back the dog. + +Bruce, collie-fashion, did not stick to one grip, but bit and +slashed a dozen times in three seconds, tearing and rending his +way toward the throat-hold he craved; driving through flesh of +hands and of forearms toward his goal. + +Like many another German, Stolz was far more adept at causing +pain than at enduring it. Also, from birth, he had had an +unconquerable fear of dogs. His nerves, too, were not yet +recovered from Bruce's attack earlier in the day. All this, and +the spectral suddenness of the onslaught, robbed him of every +atom of his usual stony self-control. + +Sergeant Mahan was a good soldier. Yet a minute earlier he had +almost ruined his reputation as such. He had been hard put to it +to refrain from leaving the ranks of his drilling company, a +furlong from the rocks, and running at record speed toward the +boulders. For he had seen the supposed nurse pass that way. And +almost directly afterward he had seen Bruce follow her thither. +And he could guess what would happen. + +Luckily for the sake of discipline, the order of "Break ranks!" +was given before Mahan could disgrace himself by such unmartial +behavior. And, on the instant, the Sergeant broke into a run in +the direction of the rocks. + +Wondering at his eccentric action, several of the soldiers +followed. The company captain, at sight of a knot of his men +dashing at breakneck speed toward the boulders, started at a more +leisurely pace in the same direction. + +Mahan had reached the edge of the rocks when his ears were +greeted by a yell of mortal fear. The captain and the rest, +catching the sound, went faster. Screech after screech rang from +the rocky enclosure. + +Mahan rounded the big boulder at the crest of the ridge and flung +himself upon the two combatants, as they thrashed about in a +tumultuous dual mass on the ground. And just then Bruce at last +found his grip on Stolz's throat. + +A stoical German signal-corps officer, on a hilltop some miles to +eastward, laid aside his field-glass and calmly remarked to a +man at his side + +"We have lost a good spy!" + +Such was the sole epitaph and eulogy of Herr Heinrich Stolz, from +his army. + +Meantime, Sergeant Mahan was prying loose the collie's ferocious +jaws from their prey and was tugging with all his might to drag +the dog off the shrieking spy. The throat-hold, he noted, was a +bare inch from the jugular. + +The rest of the soldiers, rushing up pell-mell, helped him pull +the infuriated Bruce from his victim. The spectacle of their +admired dog-hero, so murderously mauling a woman of the Red +Cross, dazed them with horror. + +"Take him AWAY!" bellowed Stolz, delirious with pain and fear. +"He's KILLED me--der gottverdammte Teufelhund!" + +And now the crazed victim's unconscious use of German was not +needed to tell every one within hearing just who and what he was. +For the quavering tones were no longer a rich contralto. They +were a throaty baritone. And the accent was Teutonic. + +"Bruce!" observed Top-Sergeant Mahan next morning, "I've always +said a man who kicks a dog is more of a cur than the dog is. But +you'll never know how near I came to kicking you yesterday, when +I caught you mangling that filthy spy. And Brucie, if I had +kicked you, well--I'd be praying at this minute that the good +Lord would grow a third leg on me, so that I could kick myself +all the way from here to Berlin!" + + + +CHAPTER VI. The Werewolf + +When Bruce left the quiet peace of The Place for the hell of the +Western Front, it had been stipulated by the Mistress and the +Master that if ever he were disabled, he should be shipped back +to The Place, at their expense. + +It was a stipulation made rather to soothe the Mistress's sorrow +at parting from her loved pet than in any hope that it could be +fulfilled; for the average life of a courierdog on the battle- +front was tragically short. And his fate was more than ordinarily +certain. If the boche bullets and shrapnel happened to miss him, +there were countless diseases--bred of trench and of hardship and +of abominable food--to kill him. + +The Red Cross appeal raised countless millions of dollars and +brought rescue to innumerable human warriors. But in caring for +humans, the generosity of most givers reached its limit; and the +Blue Cross--"for the relief of dogs and horses injured in the +service of the Allies"--was forced to take what it could get. Yet +many a man, and many a body of men, owed life and safety to the +heroism of some war-dog, a dog which surely merited special care +when its own certain hour of agony struck. + +Bruce's warmest overseas friends were to be found in the ranks of +the mixed Franco-American regiment, nicknamed the +"Here-We-Comes." Right gallantly, in more than one tight place, +had Bruce been of use to the "Here-We-Comes." On his official +visits to the regiment, he was always received with a joyous +welcome that would have turned any head less steady than a +thoroughbred collie's. + +Bruce enjoyed this treatment. He enjoyed, too, the food-dainties +wherewith the "Here-We-Comes" plied him. But to no man in the +army would he give the adoring personal loyalty he had left at +The Place with the Mistress and the Master. Those two were still +his only gods. And he missed them and his sweet life at The Place +most bitterly. Yet he was too good a soldier to mope. + + * * * * * * * * * * * + +For months the "Here-We-Comes" had been quartered in a +"quiet"--or only occasionally tumultuous--sector, near +Chateau-Thierry. Then the comparative quiet all at once turned to +pandemonium. + +A lanky and degenerate youth (who before the war had been +unlovingly known throughout Europe as the "White Rabbit" and who +now was mentioned in dispatches as the "Crown Prince") had +succeeded in leading some half-million fellow-Germans into a +"pocket" that had lately been merely a salient. + +From the three lower sides of the pocket, the Allies ecstatically +flung themselves upon their trapped foes in a laudable effort to +crush the half-million boches and their rabbit-faced princeling +into surrender before the latter could get out of the snare, and +to the shelter of the high ground and the reenforcements that lay +behind it. The Germans objected most strenuously to this crushing +process. And the three beleaguered edges of the pocket became a +triple-section of hell. + +It was a period when no one's nerves were in any degree normal-- +least of all the nerves of the eternally hammered Germans. Even +the fiercely advancing Franco-Americans, the "Here-We-Comes," had +lost the grimly humorous composure that had been theirs, and +waxed sullen and ferocious in their eagerness. + +Thus it was that Bruce missed his wontedly uproarious welcome as +he cantered, at sunset one July day, into a smashed farmstead +where his friends, the "Here-We-Comes," were bivouacked for the +night. By instinct, the big dog seemed to know where to find the +temporary regimental headquarters. + +He trotted past a sentry, into an unroofed cattle-shed where the +colonel was busily scribbling a detailed report of the work done +by the "Here-We-Comes" during that day's drive. + +Coming to a halt by the colonel's side, Bruce stood expectantly +wagging his plumy tail and waiting for the folded message from +division headquarters to be taken off his collar. + +Usually, on such visits, the colonel made much of the dog. To-day +he merely glanced up abstractedly from his writing, at sight of +Bruce's silken head at his side. He unfastened the message, read +it, frowned and went on with his report. + +Bruce continued to wag his tail and to look up wistfully for the +wonted petting and word of commendation. But the colonel had +forgotten his existence. So presently the collie wearied of +waiting for a caress from a man whose caresses, at best, he did +not greatly value. He turned and strolled out of the shed. His +message delivered, he knew he was at liberty to amuse himself as +he might choose to, until such time as he must carry back to his +general a reply to the dispatch he had brought. + +From outside came the voices of tired and lounging soldiers. A +traveling kitchen had just been set up near by. From it arose a +blend of smells that were mighty tempting to a healthily hungry +dog. Thither, at a decorous but expectant pace, Bruce bent his +steps. + +Top-Sergeant Mahan was gazing with solicitous interest upon the +toil of the cooks at the wheeled kitchen. Beside him, sharing his +concern in the supper preparations, was Mahan's closest crony, +old Sergeant Vivier. The wizened little Frenchman, as a boy, had +been in the surrender of Sedan. Nightly, ever since, he had +besought the saints to give him, some day, a tiny share in the +avenging of that black disgrace. + +Mahan and Vivier were the warmest of Bruce's many admirers in the +"Here-We-Comes." Ordinarily a dual whoop of joy from them would +have greeted his advent. This afternoon they merely chirped +abstractedly at him, and Mahan patted him carelessly on the head +before returning to the inspection of the cooking food. + +Since an hour before dawn, both men had been in hot action. The +command for the "Here-We-Comes" to turn aside and bivouac for the +night had been a sharp disappointment to them, as well as to +every unwounded man in the regiment. + +When a gambler is in the middle of a winning streak, when an +athlete feels he has the race in his own hands, when a business +man has all but closed the deal that means fortune to him--at +such crises it is maddening to be halted at the very verge of +triumph. But to soldiers who, after months of reverses, at last +have their hated foe on the run, such a check does odd things to +temper and to nerves. + +In such plight were the men of the "Here-We-Comes," on this late +afternoon. Mahan and Vivier were too seasoned and too sane to +give way to the bursts of temper and the swirls of blasphemy that +swayed so many of their comrades. Nevertheless they were glum and +silent and had no heart for jolly welcomings,--even to so dear a +friend as Bruce. + +Experience told them that a square meal would work miracles in +the way of calming and bracing them. Hence, apart from stark +hunger, their interest in the cooking of supper. + +Bruce was too much a philosopher--and not devoted enough to his +soldier friends--to be hurt at the lack of warmth in the +greeting. With the air of an epicure, he sniffed at the contents +of one of the kitchen's bubbling kettles. Then he walked off and +curled himself comfortably on a pile of bedding, there to rest +until supper should be ready. + +Several times, as he lay there, soldiers passed and repassed. One +or two of them snapped their fingers at the dog or even stooped, +in passing, to stroke his head. But on the faces of all of them +was unrest and a certain wolfish eagerness, which precluded +playing with pets at such a time. The hot zest of the man-hunt +was upon them. It was gnawing in the veins of the newest recruit, +ever, as in the heart of the usually self-contained colonel of +the regiment. + +The colonel, in fact, had been so carried away by the joy of +seeing his men drive the hated graycoats before them that day +that he had overstepped the spirit of his own orders from the +division commander. + +In brief, he had made no effort to "dress" his command, in the +advance, upon the regiments to either side of it. As a result, +when the signal to bivouac for the night was given, the "Here-We- +Comes" were something like a mile ahead of the regiment which +should have been at their immediate right, and nearly two miles +in front of the brigade at their left. + +In other words, the "Here-We-Comes" now occupied a salient of +their own, ahead of the rest of the FrancoAmerican line. It was +in rebuke for this bit of good progress and bad tactics that the +division commander had written to the colonel, in the dispatch +which Bruce had brought. + +German airmen, sailing far above, and dodging as best they could +the charges of the Allied 'planes, had just noted that the "Here- +We-Comes" "salient" was really no salient at all. So far had it +advanced that, for the moment, it was out of touch with the rest +of the division. It was, indeed, in an excellent position to be +cut off and demolished by a dashing nightattack. And a report to +this effect was delivered to a fumingly distracted German major +general, who yearned for a chance to atone in some way for the +day's shameful reverses. + +"If they hadn't halted us and made us call it a day, just as we +were getting into our stride," loudly grumbled one Yankee private +to another as the two clumped up to the kitchen, "we'd have been +in Fere-en-Tardenois by now. What lazy guy is running this drive, +anyhow?" + +"The same lazy guy that will stick you into the hoosgow for +insubordination and leave you to do your bit there while the rest +of us stroll on to Berlin!" snapped Top-Sergeant Mahan, wheeling +upon the grumbler. "Till you learn how to obey orders without +grouching, it isn't up to you to knock wiser men. Shut up!" + +Though Mahan's tone of reproof was professionally harsh, his +spirit was not in his words. And the silenced private knew it. He +knew, too, that the top-sergeant was as savage over the early +halt as were the rest of the men. + +Bruce, as a rule, when he honored the "Here-We-Comes" with a +visit, spent the bulk of his time with Mahan and old Vivier. But +to-day neither of these friends was an inspiring companion. Nor +were the rest of Bruce's acquaintances disposed to friendliness. +Wherefore, as soon as supper was eaten, the dog returned to his +heap of bedding, for the hour or so of laziness which Nature +teaches all her children to demand, after a full meal,--and which +the so-called "dumb" animals alone are intelligent enough to +take. + +Dusk had merged into night when Bruce got to his feet again. Taps +had just sounded. The tired men gladly rolled themselves into +their blankets and fell into a dead sleep. A sentry-relief set +forth to replace the first batch of sentinels with the second. + +Mahan was of the party. Though the top-sergeant had been a stupid +comrade, thus far to-day, he was now evidently going for a walk. +And even though it was a duty-walk, yet the idea of it appealed +to the dog after his long inaction. + +So Bruce got up and followed. As he came alongside the stiffly +marching top-sergeant, the collie so far subverted discipline as +to thrust his nose, in friendly greeting, into Mahan's slightly +cupped palm. And the top-sergeant so far abetted the breach of +discipline as to give the collie's head a furtive pat. The night +was dim, as the moon had not risen; so the mutual contact of +good-fellowship was not visible to the marching men on either +side of Mahan and the dog. And discipline, therefore, did not +suffer much, after all. + +At one post after another, a sentinel was relieved and a fresh +man took his place. Farthest in front of the "Here-We-Comes" +lines--and nearest to the German--was posted a lanky Missourian +whom Bruce liked, a man who had a way of discovering in his deep +pockets stray bits of food which he had hoarded there for the +collie and delighted to dole out to him. The Missourian had a +drawlingly soft voice the dog liked, and he used to talk to Bruce +as if the latter were another human. + +For all these reasons--and because Mahan was too busy and too +grumpy to bother with him--Bruce elected to stay where he was, +for a while, and share the Missourian's vigil. So, when the rest +of the party moved along to the next sentry-go, the dog remained. +The Missourian was only too glad to have him do so. It is tedious +and stupid to pace a desolate beat, alone, at dead of night, +after a day of hard fighting. And the man welcomed the +companionship of the dog. + +For a time, as the Missourian paced his solitary stretch of +broken and shrub-grown ground, Bruce gravely paced to and fro at +his side. But presently this aimless promenade began to wax +uninteresting. And, as the two came to the far end of the beat, +Bruce yawned and lay down. It was pleasanter to lie there and to +watch the sentinel do the walking. + +Stretched out, in a little grass-hollow, the dog followed +blinkingly with his soft brown eyes the pendulumlike progress of +his friend. And always the dog's plumed tail would beat rhythmic +welcome against the ground as the sentry approached him. + +Thus nearly an hour wore on. A fat moon butted its lazy way +through the smoke-mists of the eastern skyline. + +Then something happened--something that Bruce could readily have +forestalled if the wind had been blowing from the other +direction, and if a dog's eyes were not as nearsighted as his +nose is farsmelling. + +The Missourian paused to run his hand caressingly over the +collie's rough mane, and moved on, down the lonely beat. Bruce +watched his receding figure, drowsily. At the end of ninety yards +or more, the Missourian passed by a bunch of low bushes which +grew at the near side of a stretch of hilly and shellpocked +ground. He moved past the bushes, still watched by the somewhat +bored dog. + +It was then that Bruce saw a patch of bushshadow detach itself +from the rest, under the glow of the rising moon. The shadow was +humpy and squat. Noiseless, it glided out from among the bushes, +close at the sentry's heels, and crept after him. + +Bruce pricked his ears and started to get up. His curiosity was +roused. The direction of the wind prevented him from smelling out +the nature of the mystery. It also kept his keen hearing from +supplying any clue. And the distance would not permit him to see +with any distinctness. + +Still his curiosity was very mild. Surely, if danger threatened, +the sentinel would realize it. For by this time the Shadow was a +bare three feet behind him near enough, by Bruce's system of +logic, for the Missourian to have smelled and heard the pursuer. +So Bruce got up, in the most leisurely fashion, preparatory to +strolling across to investigate. But at almost his first step he +saw something that changed his gracefully slouching walk into a +charging run. + +The Shadow suddenly had merged with the sentinel. For an instant, +in stark silence, the two seemed to cling together. Then the +Shadow fled, and the lanky Missourian slumped to the earth in a +sprawling heap, his throat cut. + +The slayer had been a deft hand at the job. No sound had escaped +the Missourian, from the moment the stranglingly tight left arm +had been thrown around his throat from behind until, a second +later, he fell bleeding and lifeless. + +In twenty leaping strides, Bruce came up to the slain sentinel +and bent over him. Dog-instinct told the collie his friend had +been done to death. And the dog's power of scent told him it was +a German who had done the killing. + +For many months, Bruce had been familiar with the scent of German +soldiers, so different from that of the army in which he toiled. +And he had learned to hate it, even as a dog hates the vague +"crushed cucumber" smell of a pitviper. But while every dog +dreads the viper-smell as much as he loathes it, Bruce had no +fear at all of the boche odor. Instead, it always awoke in him a +blood-lust, as fierce as any that had burned in his wolf- +ancestors. + +This same fury swept him now, as he stood, quivering, above the +body of the kindly man who so lately had petted him; this and a +craving to revenge the murder of his human friend. + +For the briefest time, Bruce stood there, his dark eyes abrim +with unhappiness and bewilderment, as he gazed down on the +huddled form in the wet grass. Then an electric change came over +him. The softness fled from his eyes, leaving them bloodshot and +blazing. His great tawny ruff bristled like an angry cat's. The +lazy gracefulness departed from his mighty body. It became tense +and terrible. In the growing moonlight his teeth gleamed whitely +from under his upcurled lip. + +In a flash he turned and set off at a loping run, nose close to +ground, his long stride deceptively swift. The zest of the man- +hunt had obsessed him, as completely as, that day, it had spurred +the advance of the "Here-We-Comes." + +The trail of the slayer was fresh, even over such broken ground. +Fast as the German had fled, Bruce was flying faster. Despite the +murderer's long start, the dog speedily cut down the distance +between his quarry and himself. Not trusting to sight, but solely +to his unerring sense of smell. Bruce sped on. + +Then, in a moment or two, his hearing re-enforced his scent. He +could catch the pad-pad-pad of running feet. And the increasing +of the sound told him he was gaining fast. + +But in another bound his ears told him something else--something +he would have heard much sooner, had not the night wind been +setting so strongly in the other direction. He heard not only the +pounding of his prey's heavy-shod feet, but the soft thud of +hundreds--perhaps thousands--of other army shoes. And now, +despite the adverse wind, the odor of innumerable soldiers came +to his fiercely sniffing nostrils. Not only was it the scent of +soldiers, but of German soldiers. + +For the first time, Bruce lifted his head from the ground, as he +ran, and peered in front of him. The moon had risen above the +low-lying horizon vapors into a clear sky, and the reach of +country was sharply visible. + +Bruce saw the man he was chasing,--saw him plainly. The German +was still running, but not at all as one who flees from peril. He +ran, rather, as might the bearer of glad tidings. And he was even +now drawing up to a group of men who awaited eagerly his coming. +There must have been fifty men in the group. Behind them--in open +formation and as far as the dog's near-sighted eyes could see-- +were more men, and more, and more--thousands of them, all moving +stealthily forward. + +Now, a collie (in brain, though never in heart) is much more wolf +than dog. A bullterrier, or an Airedale, would have charged on at +his foe, and would have let himself be hacked to pieces before +loosing his hold on the man. + +But--even as a wolf checks his pursuit of a galloping sheep when +the latter dashes into the guarded fold--Bruce came to an abrupt +halt, at sight of these reenforcements. He stood irresolute, +still mad with vengeful anger, but not foolish enough to assail a +whole brigade of armed men. + +It is quite impossible (though Mahan and Vivier used to swear it +must be true) that Bruce had the reasoning powers to figure out +the whole situation which confronted him. He could not have known +that a German brigade had been sent to take advantage of the +"Here-We-Comes" temporarily isolated position--that three +sentries had been killed in silence and that their deaths had +left a wide gap through which the brigade hoped to creep +unobserved until they should be within striking distance of their +unsuspectingly slumbering victims. + +Bruce could not have known this. He could not have grasped the +slightest fraction of the idea, being only a real-life dog and +not a fairytale animal. But what he could and did realize was +that a mass of detested Germans was moving toward him, and that +he could not hope to attack them, single-handed; also, that he +was not minded to slink peacefully away and leave his friend +unavenged. + +Thwarted rage dragged from his furry throat a deep growl; a growl +that resounded eerily through that silent place of stealthy +moves. And he stepped majestically forth from the surrounding +long grass, into the full glare of moonlight. + +The deceptive glow made him loom gigantic and black, and tinged +his snowy chest with the phosphorous gleam of a snowfield. His +eyes shone like a wild beast's. + + * * * * * * * * * * * * + +Corporal Rudolph Freund, of the Konigin Luise Regiment, had just +finished his three-word report to his superior. He had merely +saluted and announced + +"He is dead!" + +Corporal Freund did not thrill, as usual, to the colonel's grunt +of approval. The Corporal was worried. He was a Black Forest +peasant; and, while iron military life had dulled his native +superstitions, it had not dispelled them. + +The night was mystic, in its odd blend of moon and shadows. +However hardened one may be, it is a nerve-strain to creep +through long grass, like a red Indian, to the murder of a hostile +sentinel. And every German in the "Pocket" had been under +frightful mental and physical stress, for the past week. + +Corporal Rudolph Freund was a brave man and a brute. But that +week had sapped his nerve. And the work of this night had been +the climax. The desolate ground, over which he had crawled to the +killing, had suddenly seemed peopled with evil gnomes and +goblins, whose existence no true Black Forest peasant can doubt. +And, on the run back, he had been certain he heard some unseen +monster tearing through the underbrush in hot pursuit of him. So +certain had he been, that he had redoubled his speed. + +There were no wolves or other large wild animals in that region. +When he had wriggled toward the slow-pacing American sentinel, he +had seen and heard no creature of any sort. Yet he was sure that +on the way back he had been pursued by--by Something! And into +his scared memory, as he ran, had flashed the ofttold Black +Forest tale of the Werewolf--the devil--beast that is entered by +the soul of a murdered man and which tracks the murderer to his +death. + +Glad was the unnerved Corporal Freund when his run ceased and he +stood close to his grossly solid and rank-scented fellowmen once +more. Almost he was inclined to laugh at his fears of the fabled +Werewolf--and especially at the idea that he had been pursued. He +drew a long breath of relief. He drew the breath in. But he did +not at once expel it. For on his ears came the sound of a hideous +menacing growl. + +Corporal Freund spun about, in the direction of the mysterious +threat. And there, not thirty feet from him, in the ghostly +moonlight, stood the Werewolf! + +This time there could be no question of overstrained nerves and +of imagination. The Thing was THERE! + +Horribly visible in every detail, the Werewolf was glaring at +him. He could see the red glow of the gigantic devil-beast's +eyes, the white flash of its teeth, the ghostly shimmering of its +snowy chest. The soul of the man he had slain had taken this +traditional form and was hunting down the slayer! A thousand +stories of Freund's childhood verified the frightful truth. And +overwrought human nature's endurance went to pieces under the +shock. + +A maniac howl of terror split the midnight stillness. Shriek +after shriek rent the air. Freund tumbled convulsively to the +ground at his colonel's feet, gripping the officer's booted knees +and screeching for protection. The colonel, raging that the +surprise attack should be imperiled by such a racket, beat the +frantic man over the mouth with his heavy fist, kicking +ferociously at his upturned writhing face, and snarling to him to +be silent. + +The shower of blows brought Freund back to sanity, to the extent +of changing his craven terror into Fear's secondary phase--the +impulse to strike back at the thing that had caused the fright. +Rolling over and over on the ground, under the impact of his +superior's fist blows and kicks, Freund somehow regained his +feet. + +Reeling up to the nearest soldier, the panic-crazed corporal +snatched the private's rifle and fired three times, blindly, at +Bruce. Then, foaming at the mouth, Freund fell heavily to earth +again, chattering and twitching in a fit. + +Bruce, at the second shot, leaped high in the air, and collapsed, +in an inert furry heap, among the bushes. There he lay,--his +career as a courier-dog forever ended. + +Corporal Rudolph Freund was perhaps the best sniper in his +regiment. Wildly though he had fired, marksman-instinct had +guided his bullets. And at such close range there was no missing. +Bruce went to earth with one rifle ball through his body, and +another in his leg. A third had reached his skull. + +Now, the complete element of surprise was all-needful for the +attack the Germans had planned against the "Here-We-Comes." +Deprived of that advantage the expedition was doomed to utter +failure. For, given a chance to wake and to rally, the regiment +could not possibly be "rushed," in vivid moonlight, before the +nearest Allied forces could move up to its support. And those +forces were only a mile or so to the rear. There can be no +possible hope for a surprise attack upon a well-appointed camp +when the night's stillness has been shattered by a series of +maniac screams and by three echoing rifle-shots. + +Already the guard was out. A bugle was blowing. In another +minute, the sentry-calls would locate the gap made by the three +murdered sentinels. + +A swift guttural conference among the leaders of the gray-clad +marauders was followed by the barking of equally guttural +commands. And the Germans withdrew as quietly and as rapidly as +they had come. + + * * * * * * * * * * * + +It was the mouthing and jabbering of the fit-possessed Corporal +Rudolph Freund that drew to him the notice of a squad of Yankees +led by Top-Sergeant Mahan, ten minutes later. It was the shudder +--accompanied pointing of the delirious man's finger, toward the +nearby clump of undergrowth, that revealed to them the still warm +body of Bruce. + +Back to camp, carried lovingly in Mahan's strong arms, went all +that was left of the great courier-dog. Back to camp, propelled +between two none-too-gentle soldiers, staggered the fit-ridden +Corporal Freund. + +At the colonel's quarters, a compelling dose of stimulant cleared +some of the mists from the prisoner's brain. His nerve and his +will-power still gone to smash, he babbled eagerly enough of the +night attack, of the killing of the sentries and of his encounter +with the Werewolf. + +"I saw him fall!" he raved. "But he is not dead. The Werewolf can +be killed only by a silver bullet, marked with a cross and +blessed by a priest. He will live to track me down! Lock me where +he cannot find me, for the sake of sweet mercy!" + +And in this way, the "Here-We-Comes" learned of Bruce's part in +the night's averted disaster. + +Old Vivier wept unashamed over the body of the dog he had loved. +Top-Sergeant Mahan--the big tears splashing, unnoted, from his +own red eyes--besought the Frenchman to strive for better self- +control and not to set a cry-baby example to the men. + +Then a group of grim-faced soldiers dug a grave. And, carried by +Mahan and Vivier, the beautiful dog's body was borne to its +resting-place. A throng of men in the gray dawn stood wordless +around the grave. Some one shamefacedly took off his hat. With +equal shamefacedness, everybody else followed the example. + +Mahan laid the dog's body on the ground, at the grave's brink. +Then, looking about him, he cleared his throat noisily and spoke. + +"Boys," he began, "when a human dies for other humans, there's a +Christian burial service read over him. I'd have asked the +chaplain to read one over Bruce, here, if I hadn't known he'd say +no. But the Big Dog isn't going to rest without a word said over +his grave, for all that." + +Mahan cleared his throat noisily once more, winked fast, then +went on:-- + +"You can laugh at me, if any of you feel like it. But there's +some of you here who wouldn't be alive to laugh, if Bruce hadn't +done what he did last night. He was only just a dog--with no +soul, and with no life after this one, I s'pose. So he went ahead +and did his work and took the risks, and asked no pay. + +"And by and by he died, still doing his work and asking no pay. + +"He didn't work with the idea of getting a cross or a ribbon or a +promotion or a pension or his name in the paper or to make the +crowd cheer him when he got back home, or to brag to the +homefolks about how he was a hero. He just went ahead and WAS a +hero. That's because he was only a dog, with no soul--and not a +man. + +"All of us humans are working for some reward, even if it's only +for our pay or for the fun of doing our share. But Bruce was a +hero because he was just a dog, and because he didn't know enough +to be anything else but a hero. + +"I've heard about him, before he joined up with us. I guess most +of us have. He lived up in Jersey, somewhere. With folks that had +bred him. I'll bet a year's pay he was made a lot of by those +folks; and that it wrenched 'em to let him go. You could see he'd +been brought up that way. Life must 'a' been pretty happy for the +old chap, back there. Then he was picked up and slung into the +middle of this hell. + +"So was the rest of us, says you. But you're wrong. Those of us +that waited for the draft had our choice of going to the hoosgow, +as 'conscientious objectors,' if we didn't want to fight. And +every mother's son of us knew we was fighting for the Right; and +that we was making the world a decenter and safer place for our +grandchildren and our womenfolks to live in. We didn't brag about +God being on our side, like the boches do. It was enough for us +to know WE was on GOD'S side and fighting His great fight for +Him. We had patriotism and religion and Right, behind us, to give +us strength. + +"Brucie hadn't a one of those things. He didn't know what he was +here for--and why he'd been pitched out of his nice home, into +all this. He didn't have a chance to say Yes or No. He didn't +have any spellbinders to tell him he was making the world safe +for d'mocracy. He was MADE to come. + +"How would any of us humans have acted, if a deal like that had +been handed to us? We'd 'a' grouched and slacked and maybe +deserted. That's because we're lords of creation and have souls +and brains and such. What did Bruce do? He jumped into this game, +with bells on. He risked his life a hundred times; and he was +just as ready to risk it again the next day. + +"Yes, and he knew he was risking it, too. There's blame little he +didn't know. He saw war-dogs, all around him, choking to death +from gas, or screaming their lives out, in No Man's Land, when a +bit of shell had disemboweled 'em or a bullet had cracked their +backbones. He saw 'em starve to death. He saw 'em one bloody mass +of scars and sores. He saw 'em die of pneumonia and mange and +every rotten trench disease. And he knew it might be his turn, +any time at all, to die as they were dying; and he knew the +humans was too busy nursing other humans, to have time to spare +on caring for tortured dogs. (Though those same dogs were dying +for the humans, if it comes to that.) + +"Yes, Bruce knew what the end was bound to be. He knew it. And he +kept on, as gay and as brave as if he was on a day's romp. He +never flinched. Not even that time the K.O. sent him up the hill +for reenforcements at Rache, when every sharpshooter in the boche +trenches was laying for him, and when the machine guns were +trained on him, too. Bruce knew he was running into death--, then +and a dozen other times. And he went at it like a white man. + +"I'm--I'm getting longwinded. And I'll stop. But--maybe if you +boys will remember the Big Dog--and what he did for us,--when you +get back home,--if you'll remember him and what he did and what +thousands of other war-dogs have done,--then maybe you'll be men +enough to punch the jaw of any guy who gets to saying that dogs +are nuisances and that vivisection's a good thing, and all that. +If you'll just do that much, then--well, then Bruce hasn't lived +and died for nothing! + +"Brucie, old boy," bending to lift the tawny body and lower it +into the grave, "it's good-by. It's good-by to the cleanest, +whitest pal that a poor dub of a doughboy ever had. I--" + +Mahan glowered across at the clump of silent men. + +"If anybody thinks I'm crying," he continued thickly, "he's a +liar. I got a cold, and--" + +"Sacre bon Dieu!" yelled old Vivier, insanely. "Regarde-donc! Nom +d'une pipe!" + +He knelt quickly beside the body, in an ecstasy of excitement. +The others craned their necks to see. Then from a hundred throats +went up a gasp of amazement. + +Bruce, slowly and dazedly, was lifting his magnificent head! + +"Chase off for the surgeon!" bellowed Mahan, plumping down on his +knees beside Vivier and examining the wound in the dog's scalp. +"The bullet only creased his skull! It didn't go through! It's +just put him out for a few hours, like I've seen it do to men. +Get the surgeon! If that bullet in his body didn't hit something +vital, we'll pull him around, yet! GLORY BE!" + + * * * * * * * * * * * + +It was late summer again at The Place, late opulent summer, with +the peace of green earth and blue sky, the heavy droning of bees +and the promise of harvest. The long shadows of late afternoon +stretched lovingly across the lawn, from the great lakeside +trees. Over everything brooded a dreamy amber light. The war +seemed a million miles away. + +The Mistress and the Master came down from the vine-shaded +veranda for their sunset walk through the grounds. At sound of +their steps on the gravel, a huge dark-brown-and-white collie +emerged from his resting-place under the wistaria-arbor. + +He stretched himself lazily, fore and aft, in collie-fashion. +Then he trotted up to his two deities and thrust his muzzle +playfully into the Mistress's palm, as he fell into step with the +promenaders. + +He walked with a stiffness in one foreleg. His gait was not a +limp. But the leg's strength could no longer be relied on for a +ten-mile gallop. Along his forehead was a new-healed bullet- +crease. And the fur on his sides had scarcely yet grown over the +mark of the high-powered ball which had gone clear through him +without touching a mortal spot. + +Truly, the regimental surgeon of the "Here-We-Comes" had done a +job worthy of his own high fame! And the dog's wonderful +condition had done the rest. + +Apart from scars and stiffness, Bruce was none the worse for his +year on the battle-front. He could serve no longer as a dashing +courier. But his life as a pet was in no way impaired. + +"Here's something that came by the afternoon mail, Bruce," the +Master greeted him, as the collie ranged alongside. "It belongs +to you. Take a look at it." + +The Master drew from his pocket a leather box, and opened it. On +the oblong of white satin, within the cover, was pinned a very +small and very thin gold medal. But, light as it was, it had +represented much abstinence from estaminets and tobacco-shops, on +the part of its donors. + +"Listen," the Master said, holding the medal in front of the +collie. "Listen, while I read you the inscription: 'To Bruce. +From some of the boys he saved from the boches.'" + +Bruce was sniffing the thin gold lozenge interestedly. The +inscription meant nothing to him. But--strong and vivid to his +trained nostrils--he scented on the medal the loving finger- +touch of his old friend and admirer, Top-Sergeant Mahan. + +THE END + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's etext, Bruce by Albert Payson Terhune + diff --git a/old/bruce10.zip b/old/bruce10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..86e8dfd --- /dev/null +++ b/old/bruce10.zip |