bruce-第24章

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admired　dog…hero；　so　murderously　mauling　a　woman　of　the　Red

Cross；　dazed　them　with　horror。



〃Take　him　AWAY！〃　bellowed　Stolz；　delirious　with　pain　and　fear。

〃He's　KILLED　meder　gottverdammte　Teufelhund！〃



And　now　the　crazed　victim's　unconscious　use　of　German　was　not

needed　to　tell　every　one　within　hearing　just　who　and　what　he　was。

For　the　quavering　tones　were　no　longer　a　rich　contralto。　They

were　a　throaty　baritone。　And　the　accent　was　Teutonic。



〃Bruce！〃　observed　Top…Sergeant　Mahan　next　morning；　〃I've　always

said　a　man　who　kicks　a　dog　is　more　of　a　cur　than　the　dog　is。　But

you'll　never　know　how　near　I　came　to　kicking　you　yesterday；　when

I　caught　you　mangling　that　filthy　spy。　And　Brucie；　if　I　had

kicked　you；　wellI'd　be　praying　at　this　minute　that　the　good

Lord　would　grow　a　third　leg　on　me；　so　that　I　could　kick　myself

all　the　way　from　here　to　Berlin！〃　







CHAPTER　VI。　The　Werewolf



When　Bruce　left　the　quiet　peace　of　The　Place　for　the　hell　of　the

Western　Front；　it　had　been　stipulated　by　the　Mistress　and　the

Master　that　if　ever　he　were　disabled；　he　should　be　shipped　back

to　The　Place；　at　their　expense。



It　was　a　stipulation　made　rather　to　soothe　the　Mistress's　sorrow

at　parting　from　her　loved　pet　than　in　any　hope　that　it　could　be

fulfilled；　for　the　average　life　of　a　courierdog　on　the　battle…

front　was　tragically　short。　And　his　fate　was　more　than　ordinarily

certain。　If　the　boche　bullets　and　shrapnel　happened　to　miss　him；

there　were　countless　diseasesbred　of　trench　and　of　hardship　and

of　abominable　foodto　kill　him。



The　Red　Cross　appeal　raised　countless　millions　of　dollars　and

brought　rescue　to　innumerable　human　warriors。　But　in　caring　for


humans；　the　generosity　of　most　givers　reached　its　limit；　and　the

Blue　Cross〃for　the　relief　of　dogs　and　horses　injured　in　the

service　of　the　Allies〃was　forced　to　take　what　it　could　get。　Yet

many　a　man；　and　many　a　body　of　men；　owed　life　and　safety　to　the

heroism　of　some　war…dog；　a　dog　which　surely　merited　special　care

when　its　own　certain　hour　of　agony　struck。



Bruce's　warmest　overseas　friends　were　to　be　found　in　the　ranks　of

the　mixed　Franco…American　regiment；　nicknamed　the

〃Here…We…Comes。〃　Right　gallantly；　in　more　than　one　tight　place；

had　Bruce　been　of　use　to　the　〃Here…We…Comes。〃　On　his　official

visits　to　the　regiment；　he　was　always　received　with　a　joyous

welcome　that　would　have　turned　any　head　less　steady　than　a

thoroughbred　collie's。



Bruce　enjoyed　this　treatment。　He　enjoyed；　too；　the　food…dainties

wherewith　the　〃Here…We…Comes〃　plied　him。　But　to　no　man　in　the

army　would　he　give　the　adoring　personal　loyalty　he　had　left　at

The　Place　with　the　Mistress　and　the　Master。　Those　two　were　still

his　only　gods。　And　he　missed　them　and　his　sweet　life　at　The　Place

most　bitterly。　Yet　he　was　too　good　a　soldier　to　mope。



　　　　*　　　*　　　*　　　*　　　*　　　*　　　*　　　*　　　*　　　*　　　*



For　months　the　〃Here…We…Comes〃　had　been　quartered　in　a

〃quiet〃or　only　occasionally　tumultuoussector；　near

Chateau…Thierry。　Then　the　comparative　quiet　all　at　once　turned　to

pandemonium。



A　lanky　and　degenerate　youth　（who　before　the　war　had　been

unlovingly　known　throughout　Europe　as　the　〃White　Rabbit〃　and　who

now　was　mentioned　in　dispatches　as　the　〃Crown　Prince〃）　had

succeeded　in　leading　some　half…million　fellow…Germans　into　a

〃pocket〃　that　had　lately　been　merely　a　salient。



From　the　three　lower　sides　of　the　pocket；　the　Allies　ecstatically

flung　themselves　upon　their　trapped　foes　in　a　laudable　effort　to

crush　the　half…million　boches　and　their　rabbit…faced　princeling

into　surrender　before　the　latter　could　get　out　of　the　snare；　and

to　the　shelter　of　the　high　ground　and　the　reenforcements　that　lay

behind　it。　The　Germans　objected　most　strenuously　to　this　crushing

process。　And　the　three　beleaguered　edges　of　the　pocket　became　a

triple…section　of　hell。



It　was　a　period　when　no　one's　nerves　were　in　any　degree　normal

least　of　all　the　nerves　of　the　eternally　hammered　Germans。　Even

the　fiercely　advancing　Franco…Americans；　the　〃Here…We…Comes；〃　had

lost　the　grimly　humorous　composure　that　had　been　theirs；　and

waxed　sullen　and　ferocious　in　their　eagerness。



Thus　it　was　that　Bruce　missed　his　wontedly　uproarious　welcome　as

he　cantered；　at　sunset　one　July　day；　into　a　smashed　farmstead

where　his　friends；　the　〃Here…We…Comes；〃　were　bivouacked　for　the

night。　By　instinct；　the　big　dog　seemed　to　know　where　to　find　the

temporary　regimental　headquarters。



He　trotted　past　a　sentry；　into　an　unroofed　cattle…shed　where　the

colonel　was　busily　scribbling　a　detailed　report　of　the　work　done

by　the　〃Here…We…Comes〃　during　that　day's　drive。



Coming　to　a　halt　by　the　colonel's　side；　Bruce　stood　expectantly

wagging　his　plumy　tail　and　waiting　for　the　folded　message　from

division　headquarters　to　be　taken　off　his　collar。



Usually；　on　such　visits；　the　colonel　made　much　of　the　dog。　To…day

he　merely　glanced　up　abstractedly　from　his　writing；　at　sight　of

Bruce's　silken　head　at　his　side。　He　unfastened　the　message；　read

it；　frowned　and　went　on　with　his　report。



Bruce　continued　to　wag　his　tail　and　to　look　up　wistfully　for　the

wonted　petting　and　word　of　commendation。　But　the　colonel　had

forgotten　his　existence。　So　presently　the　collie　wearied　of

waiting　for　a　caress　from　a　man　whose　caresses；　at　best；　he　did

not　greatly　value。　He　turned　and　strolled　out　of　the　shed。　His

message　delivered；　he　knew　he　was　at　liberty　to　amuse　himself　as

he　might　choose　to；　until　such　time　as　he　must　carry　back　to　his

general　a　reply　to　the　dispatch　he　had　brought。



From　outside　came　the　voices　of　tired　and　lounging　soldiers。　A

traveling　kitchen　had　just　been　set　up　near　by。　From　it　arose　a

blend　of　smells　that　were　mighty　tempting　to　a　healthily　hungry

dog。　Thither；　at　a　decorous　but　expectant　pace；　Bruce　bent　his

steps。



Top…Sergeant　Mahan　was　gazing　with　solicitous　interest　upon　the

toil　of　the　cooks　at　the　wheeled　kitchen。　Beside　him；　sharing　his

concern　in　the　supper　preparations；　was　Mahan's　closest　crony；

old　Sergeant　Vivier。　The　wizened　little　Frenchman；　as　a　boy；　had

been　in　the　surrender　of　Sedan。　Nightly；　ever　since；　he　had

besought　the　saints　to　give　him；　some　day；　a　tiny　share　in　the

avenging　of　that　black　disgrace。



Mahan　and　Vivier　were　the　warmest　of　Bruce's　many　admirers　in　the

〃Here…We…Comes。〃　Ordinarily　a　dual　whoop　of　joy　from　them　would

have　greeted　his　advent。　This　afternoon　they　merely　chirped

abstractedly　at　him；　and　Mahan　patted　him　carelessly　on　the　head

before　returning　to　the　inspection　of　the　cooking　food。



Since　an　hour　before　dawn；　both　men　had　been　in　hot　action。　The

command　for　the　〃Here…We…Comes〃　to　turn　aside　and　bivouac　for　the

night　had　been　a　sharp　disappointment　to　them；　as　well　as　to

every　unwounded　man　in　the　regiment。



When　a　gambler　is　in　the　middle　of　a　winning　streak；　when　an

athlete　feels　he　has　the　race　in　his　own　hands；　when　a　business

man　has　all　but　closed　the　deal　that　means　fortune　to　himat

such　crises　it　is　maddening　to　be　halted　at　the　very　verge　of

triumph。　But　to　soldiers　who；　after　months　of　reverses；　at　last

have　their　hated　foe　on　the　run；　such　a　check　does　odd　things　to

temper　and　to　nerves。



In　such　plight　were　the　men　of　the　〃Here…We…Comes；〃　on　this　late

afternoon。　Mahan　and　Vivier　were　too　seasoned　and　too　sane　to

give　way　to　the　bursts　of　temper　and　the　swirls　of　blasphemy　that

swayed　so　many　of　their　comrades。　Nevertheless　they　were　glum　and

silent　and　had　no　heart　for　jolly　welcomings；even　to　so　dear　a

friend　as　Bruce。



Experience　told　them　that　a　square　meal　would　work　miracles　in

the　way　of　calming　and　bracing　them。　Hence；　apart　from　stark

hunger；　their　interest　in　the　cooking　of　supper。



Bruce　was　too　much　a　philosopherand　not　devoted　enough　to　his

soldier　friendsto　be　hurt　at　the　lack　of　warmth　in　the

greeting。　With　the　air　of　an　epicure；　he　sniffed　at　the　contents

of　one　of　the　kitch