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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
incidentsboth 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； staggeringtill 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
startand 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。 Andand 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 petsuch a babyof Bruce！
All his life he has lived herehere 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 andWell； 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 ishe 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