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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 bulletespecially if the dog be a
collie； with a trace of wolfancestry 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 collieold 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 headquartersone 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 a