bruce-第20章

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of　changing　his　craven　terror　into　Fear's　secondary　phasethe

impulse　to　strike　back　at　the　thing　that　had　caused　the　fright。

Rolling　over　and　over　on　the　ground；　under　the　impact　of　his

superior's　fist　blows　and　kicks；　Freund　somehow　regained　his

feet。



Reeling　up　to　the　nearest　soldier；　the　panic…crazed　corporal

snatched　the　private's　rifle　and　fired　three　times；　blindly；　at

Bruce。　Then；　foaming　at　the　mouth；　Freund　fell　heavily　to　earth

again；　chattering　and　twitching　in　a　fit。



Bruce；　at　the　second　shot；　leaped　high　in　the　air；　and　collapsed；

in　an　inert　furry　heap；　among　the　bushes。　There　he　lay；his

career　as　a　courier…dog　forever　ended。



Corporal　Rudolph　Freund　was　perhaps　the　best　sniper　in　his

regiment。　Wildly　though　he　had　fired；　marksman…instinct　had

guided　his　bullets。　And　at　such　close　range　there　was　no　missing。

Bruce　went　to　earth　with　one　rifle　ball　through　his　body；　and

another　in　his　leg。　A　third　had　reached　his　skull。



Now；　the　complete　element　of　surprise　was　all…needful　for　the

attack　the　Germans　had　planned　against　the　〃Here…We…Comes。〃

Deprived　of　that　advantage　the　expedition　was　doomed　to　utter

failure。　For；　given　a　chance　to　wake　and　to　rally；　the　regiment

could　not　possibly　be　〃rushed；〃　in　vivid　moonlight；　before　the

nearest　Allied　forces　could　move　up　to　its　support。　And　those

forces　were　only　a　mile　or　so　to　the　rear。　There　can　be　no

possible　hope　for　a　surprise　attack　upon　a　well…appointed　camp

when　the　night's　stillness　has　been　shattered　by　a　series　of

maniac　screams　and　by　three　echoing　rifle…shots。



Already　the　guard　was　out。　A　bugle　was　blowing。　In　another

minute；　the　sentry…calls　would　locate　the　gap　made　by　the　three

murdered　sentinels。



A　swift　guttural　conference　among　the　leaders　of　the　gray…clad

marauders　was　followed　by　the　barking　of　equally　guttural

commands。　And　the　Germans　withdrew　as　quietly　and　as　rapidly　as

they　had　come。



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It　was　the　mouthing　and　jabbering　of　the　fit…possessed　Corporal

Rudolph　Freund　that　drew　to　him　the　notice　of　a　squad　of　Yankees

led　by　Top…Sergeant　Mahan；　ten　minutes　later。　It　was　the　shudder

accompanied　pointing　of　the　delirious　man's　finger；　toward　the

nearby　clump　of　undergrowth；　that　revealed　to　them　the　still　warm

body　of　Bruce。



Back　to　camp；　carried　lovingly　in　Mahan's　strong　arms；　went　all

that　was　left　of　the　great　courier…dog。　Back　to　camp；　propelled

between　two　none…too…gentle　soldiers；　staggered　the　fit…ridden

Corporal　Freund。



At　the　colonel's　quarters；　a　compelling　dose　of　stimulant　cleared

some　of　the　mists　from　the　prisoner's　brain。　His　nerve　and　his

will…power　still　gone　to　smash；　he　babbled　eagerly　enough　of　the

night　attack；　of　the　killing　of　the　sentries　and　of　his　encounter

with　the　Werewolf。



〃I　saw　him　fall！〃　he　raved。　〃But　he　is　not　dead。　The　Werewolf　can

be　killed　only　by　a　silver　bullet；　marked　with　a　cross　and

blessed　by　a　priest。　He　will　live　to　track　me　down！　Lock　me　where

he　cannot　find　me；　for　the　sake　of　sweet　mercy！〃



And　in　this　way；　the　〃Here…We…Comes〃　learned　of　Bruce's　part　in

the　night's　averted　disaster。



Old　Vivier　wept　unashamed　over　the　body　of　the　dog　he　had　loved。

Top…Sergeant　Mahanthe　big　tears　splashing；　unnoted；　from　his

own　red　eyesbesought　the　Frenchman　to　strive　for　better　self…

control　and　not　to　set　a　cry…baby　example　to　the　men。



Then　a　group　of　grim…faced　soldiers　dug　a　grave。　And；　carried　by

Mahan　and　Vivier；　the　beautiful　dog's　body　was　borne　to　its

resting…place。　A　throng　of　men　in　the　gray　dawn　stood　wordless

around　the　grave。　Some　one　shamefacedly　took　off　his　hat。　With

equal　shamefacedness；　everybody　else　followed　the　example。



Mahan　laid　the　dog's　body　on　the　ground；　at　the　grave's　brink。

Then；　looking　about　him；　he　cleared　his　throat　noisily　and　spoke。



〃Boys；〃　he　began；　〃when　a　human　dies　for　other　humans；　there's　a

Christian　burial　service　read　over　him。　I'd　have　asked　the

chaplain　to　read　one　over　Bruce；　here；　if　I　hadn't　known　he'd　say

no。　But　the　Big　Dog　isn't　going　to　rest　without　a　word　said　over

his　grave；　for　all　that。〃



Mahan　cleared　his　throat　noisily　once　more；　winked　fast；　then

went　on：



〃You　can　laugh　at　me；　if　any　of　you　feel　like　it。　But　there's

some　of　you　here　who　wouldn't　be　alive　to　laugh；　if　Bruce　hadn't

done　what　he　did　last　night。　He　was　only　just　a　dogwith　no

soul；　and　with　no　life　after　this　one；　I　s'pose。　So　he　went　ahead

and　did　his　work　and　took　the　risks；　and　asked　no　pay。



〃And　by　and　by　he　died；　still　doing　his　work　and　asking　no　pay。



〃He　didn't　work　with　the　idea　of　getting　a　cross　or　a　ribbon　or　a

promotion　or　a　pension　or　his　name　in　the　paper　or　to　make　the

crowd　cheer　him　when　he　got　back　home；　or　to　brag　to　the

homefolks　about　how　he　was　a　hero。　He　just　went　ahead　and　WAS　a

hero。　That's　because　he　was　only　a　dog；　with　no　souland　not　a

man。



〃All　of　us　humans　are　working　for　some　reward；　even　if　it's　only

for　our　pay　or　for　the　fun　of　doing　our　share。　But　Bruce　was　a

hero　because　he　was　just　a　dog；　and　because　he　didn't　know　enough

to　be　anything　else　but　a　hero。



〃I've　heard　about　him；　before　he　joined　up　with　us。　I　guess　most

of　us　have。　He　lived　up　in　Jersey；　somewhere。　With　folks　that　had

bred　him。　I'll　bet　a　year's　pay　he　was　made　a　lot　of　by　those

folks；　and　that　it　wrenched　'em　to　let　him　go。　You　could　see　he'd

been　brought　up　that　way。　Life　must　'a'　been　pretty　happy　for　the

old　chap；　back　there。　Then　he　was　picked　up　and　slung　into　the

middle　of　this　hell。



〃So　was　the　rest　of　us；　says　you。　But　you're　wrong。　Those　of　us

that　waited　for　the　draft　had　our　choice　of　going　to　the　hoosgow；

as　'conscientious　objectors；'　if　we　didn't　want　to　fight。　And

every　mother's　son　of　us　knew　we　was　fighting　for　the　Right；　and

that　we　was　making　the　world　a　decenter　and　safer　place　for　our

grandchildren　and　our　womenfolks　to　live　in。　We　didn't　brag　about

God　being　on　our　side；　like　the　boches　do。　It　was　enough　for　us

to　know　WE　was　on　GOD'S　side　and　fighting　His　great　fight　for

Him。　We　had　patriotism　and　religion　and　Right；　behind　us；　to　give

us　strength。



〃Brucie　hadn't　a　one　of　those　things。　He　didn't　know　what　he　was

here　forand　why　he'd　been　pitched　out　of　his　nice　home；　into

all　this。　He　didn't　have　a　chance　to　say　Yes　or　No。　He　didn't

have　any　spellbinders　to　tell　him　he　was　making　the　world　safe

for　d'mocracy。　He　was　MADE　to　come。



〃How　would　any　of　us　humans　have　acted；　if　a　deal　like　that　had

been　handed　to　us？　We'd　'a'　grouched　and　slacked　and　maybe

deserted。　That's　because　we're　lords　of　creation　and　have　souls

and　brains　and　such。　What　did　Bruce　do？　He　jumped　into　this　game；

with　bells　on。　He　risked　his　life　a　hundred　times；　and　he　was

just　as　ready　to　risk　it　again　the　next　day。



〃Yes；　and　he　knew　he　was　risking　it；　too。　There's　blame　little　he

didn't　know。　He　saw　war…dogs；　all　around　him；　choking　to　death

from　gas；　or　screaming　their　lives　out；　in　No　Man's　Land；　when　a

bit　of　shell　had　disemboweled　'em　or　a　bullet　had　cracked　their

backbones。　He　saw　'em　starve　to　death。　He　saw　'em　one　bloody　mass

of　scars　and　sores。　He　saw　'em　die　of　pneumonia　and　mange　and

every　rotten　trench　disease。　And　he　knew　it　might　be　his　turn；

any　time　at　all；　to　die　as　they　were　dying；　and　he　knew　the

humans　was　too　busy　nursing　other　humans；　to　have　time　to　spare

on　caring　for　tortured　dogs。　（Though　those　same　dogs　were　dying

for　the　humans；　if　it　comes　to　that。）



〃Yes；　Bruce　knew　what　the　end　was　bound　to　be。　He　knew　it。　And　he

kept　on；　as　gay　and　as　brave　as　if　he　was　on　a　day's　romp。　He

never　flinched。　Not　even　that　time　the　K。O。　sent　him　up　the　hill

for　reenforcements　at　Rache；　when　every　sharpshooter　in　the　boche

trenches　was　laying　for　him；　and　when　the　machine　guns　were

trained　on　him；　too。　Bruce　knew　he　was　running　into　death；then

and　a　dozen　other　times。　And　he　went　at　it　like　a　white　man。



〃I'mI'm　getting　longwinded。　And　I'll　stop。　Butmaybe　if　you

boys　will　remember　the　Big　Dogand　what　he　did　for　us；when　you

get　back　home；if　you'll　remember　him　and　what　he　did　and　what

thousands　of　other　war…dogs　have　done；then　maybe　you'll　be　men

enough　to　punch　the　jaw　of　any　guy　who　gets　to　saying　that　dogs

are　nuisances　and　that　vivisection's　a　good　thing；　and　all　that。

If　you'll　just　do　that　much；　thenwell；　then　Bruce　hasn't　lived

and　died　for　nothing！



〃Brucie；　old　boy；〃　bending　to　lift　the　tawny　body　and　lower　it

into　the　grave；　〃it's　good…by。　It's　good…by　to　the　cleanest；

whitest　pal　that　a　poor　dub　of　a　doughboy　ever　had。　I〃



Mahan　glowered　across　at　the　clump　of　silent　men。



〃If　anybody　thinks　I'm　crying；〃　he　continued　thickly；　〃he's　a

liar。　I　got　a　cold；　and〃



〃Sacre　bon　Dieu！〃　yelled　old　Vivier；　insanely。　〃Regarde…donc！　Nom

d'une　pipe！〃



He　knelt　quickly　beside　the　body；　in　an　ecstasy　of　excitement。

The　others　craned　their　necks　to　see。　Then　from　a　hundred　throats

went　up　a　gasp　of　amazement。



Bruce；　slowly　and　dazedly；　was　lifting　his　magnificent　head！



〃Chase　off　for　the　surgeon！〃　bellowed　Mahan；　plumping　down　on　his

knees　beside　Vivier　and　examining　the　wound　in　the　dog's　scalp。

〃The　bullet　only　creased　his　skull！　It　didn't　go　through！　It's

just　put　him　out　for　a　few　hours；　like　I've　seen　it　do　to　men。

Get　the　surgeon！　If　that　bullet　in　his　body　didn't　hit　something

vital；　we'll　pull　him　around；　yet！　GLORY　BE！〃



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It　was　late　summer　again　at　The　Place；　late　opulent　summer；　with

the　peace　of　green　earth　and　blue　sky；　the　heavy　droning　of　bees

and　the　promise　of　harvest。　The　long　shadows　of　late　afternoon

stretched　lovingly　across　the　lawn；　from　the　great　lakeside

trees。　Over　everything　brooded　a　dreamy　amber　light。　The　war

seemed　a　million　miles　away。



The　Mistress　and　the　Master　came　down　from　the　vine…shaded

veranda　for　their　sunset　walk　through　the　grounds。　At　sound　of

their　steps　on　the　gravel；　a　huge　dark…brown…and…white　collie

emerged　from　his　resting…place　under　the　wistaria…arbor。



He　stretched　himself　lazily；　fore　and　aft；　in　collie…fashion。

Then　he　trotted　up　to　his　two　deities　and　thrust　his　muzzle

playfully　into　the　Mistress's　palm；　as　he　fell　into　step　with　the

promenaders。



He　walked　with　a　stiffness　in　one　foreleg。　His　gait　was　not　a

limp。　But　the　leg's　strength　could　no　longer　be　relied　on　for　a

ten…mile　gallop。　Along　his　forehead　was　a　new…healed　bullet…

crease。　And　the　fur　on　his　sides　had　scarcely　yet　grown　over　the

mark　of　the　high…powered　ball　which　had　gone　clear　through　him

without　touching　a　mortal　spot。



Truly；　the　regimental　surgeon　of　the　〃Here…We…Comes〃　had　done　a

job　worthy　of　his　own　high　fame！　And　the　dog's　wonderful

condition　had　done　the　rest。



Apart　from　scars　and　stiffness；　Bruce　was　none　the　worse