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Page 27
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.
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