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Page 34
"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.
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