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Page 47
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.
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