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knew they themselves could not hope to stand against a second and larger
charge。
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Such a charge the enemy were certain to make。 The Germans； too；
must soon learn of the defection of the supports。 It was now only a
question of an hour or less before a charge with a double… enveloping
movement would surround and bag the Here…We…Comes； catching the
whole regiment in an inescapable trap。
To fall back； now； up that long bare hillside； under full fire of the
augmented German artillery； would mean a decimating of the entire
command。 The Here…We…Comes could not retreat。 They could not hope to
hold their ground。 The sole chance for life lay in the arrival of strong
reenforcements from the rear； to help them hold the trenches until night； or
to man the supporting positions。 Reserves were within easy striking
distance。 But； as happened so many times in the war； there was no routine
way to summon them in time。
It was the chance sight of a crumpled message lying on his dugout…
table that reminded the colonel of Bruce's existence and of his presence in
the front trench。 It was a matter of thirty seconds for the colonel to scrawl
an urgent appeal and a brief statement of conditions。 Almost as soon as the
note was ready； an orderly appeared at the dugout entrance； convoying the
newly awakened Bruce。
The all…important message was fastened in place。 The colonel himself
went to the edge of the traverse； and with his own arms lifted the eighty…
pound collie to the top。
There was tenderness as well as strength in the lifting arms。 As he set
Bruce down on the brink； the colonel said； as if speaking to a fellow…
human：
〃I hate to do it； old chap。 I HATE to！ There isn't one chance in three of
your getting all the way up the hill alive。 But there wouldn't be one chance
in a hundred； for a MAN。 The boches will be on the lookout for just this
move。 And their best sharpshooters will be waiting for youeven if you
dodge the shrapnel and the rest of the artillery。 I'm sorry！ Andgood…by。〃
Then； tersely； he rasped out the command
〃Bruce！ Headquarters！ Headquarters！ QUICK！〃
At a bound； the dog was gone。
Breasting the rise of the hill； Bruce set off at a sweeping run； his
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Bruce
tawny…and…white mane flying in the wind。
A thousand eyes； from the Here…We…Come trenches； watched his flight。
And as many eyes from the German lines saw the huge collie's dash up the
coverless slope。
Scarce had Bruce gotten fairly into his stride when the boche bullets
began to singnot a desultory little flurry of shots； as before； but by the
score； and with a murderous earnestness。 When he had appeared； on his
way to the trenches； an hour earlier； the Germans had opened fire on him；
merely for their own amusement upon the same merry principle which
always led them to shoot at an Ally war…dog。 But now they understood his
all…important mission； and they strove with their best skill to thwart it。
The colonel of the Here…We…Comes drew his breath sharply between
his teeth。 He did not regret the sending of the collie。 It had been a move of
stark military necessity。 And there was an off chance that it might mean
the saving of his whole command。
But the colonel was fond of Bruce； and it angered him to hear the
frantic effort of the boche marksmen to down so magnificent a creature。
The bullets were spraying all about the galloping dog； kicking up tiny
swirls of dust at his heels and in front of him and to either side。
Mahan； watching； with streaming eyes and blaspheming lips； recalled
the French sergeant's theory that Bruce bore a charmed life。 And he prayed
that Vivier might be right。 But in his prayer was very little faith。 For under
such a fusillade it seemed 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
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Bruce
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
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Bruce
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