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
  that　you'll　come　back　to　us。　I'mI'm　not　deserting　you。　And　I
  guess　there's　precious　little　danger　that　any　one　on　The　Place
  will　ever　forget　you。　It'sit's　all　right。　Millions　of　humans
  are　doing　it。　I'd　give　everything　I've　got；　if　I　could　go；　too。
  IT'S　ALL　RIGHT！〃
  Then　Bruce　understood　at　last　that　he　was　to　stay　in　this　place
  of　abominations；　far　from　everything　he　loved；　and　that　he　must
  do　so　because　the　Master　ordained　it。　He　made　no　further　effort
  to　break　away　and　to　follow　his　god　ashore。　But　he　shivered
  convulsively　from　head　to　foot；　and　his　desolate　gaze　continued
  to　trace　the　Master's　receding　figure　out　of　sight。　Then；　with　a
  long　sigh；　he　lay　down；　heavily；　his　head　between　his　white
  forepaws；　and　resigned　himself　to　whatever　of　future　misery　his
  deities　might　have　ordained　for　him。
  Ensued　a　fortnight　of　mental　and　bodily　anguish；　as　the　inland…
  reared　dog　tasted　the　horrors　of　a　voyage　in　a　rolling　ship；
  through　heaving　seas。　Afterward；　came　the　landing　at　a　British
  port　and　the　train　ride　to　the　camp　which　was　to　be　his　home　for
  the　next　three　months。
  Bruce's　sense　of　smell　told　him　the　camp　contained　more　dogs　than
  ever　he　had　beheld　in　all　his　brief　life　put　together。　But　his
  hearing　would　have　led　him　to　believe　there　were　not　a　dozen
  other　dogs　within　a　mile　of　him。
  From　the　encampment　arose　none　of　the　rackety　barking　which
  betokens　the　presence　of　many　canines；　and　which　deafens　visitors
  to　a　dog…show。
  One　of　the　camp's　first　and　most　stringent　rules　forbade　barking；
  except　under　special　order。　These　dogsor　the　pick　of　themwere
  destined　for　work　at　the　front。　The　bark　of　a　dog　has　a　carrying
  quality　greater　than　the　combined　shouting　of　ten　men。　It　is　the
  last　sound　to　follow　a　balloonist；　after　he　has　risen　above　the
  reach　of　all　other　earth…noises。
  Hence；　a　chance　bark；　rising　through　the　night　to　where　some
  enemy　airman　soared　with　engines　turned　off；　might　well　lead　to
  the　bombing　of　hitherto　unlocated　trenches　or　detachment…camps。
  For　this　and　divers　other　reasons；　the　first　lesson　taught　to
  arriving　wardogs　was　to　abstain　from　barking。
  The　dogs　were　divided；　roughly；　by　breeds；　as　regarded　the　line
  of　training　assigned　to　them。　The　collies　were　taught　courier…
  work。　The　Airedales；　too；hideous；　cruel；　snake…headed；were
  used　as　couriers；　as　well　as　to　bear　Red　Cross　supplies　and　to
  hunt　for　the　wounded。　The　gaunt　and　wolflike　police　dogs　were
  pressed　into　the　two　latter　tasks；　and　were　taught　listening…post
  duty。　And　so　on　through　all　available　breeds；including　the
  stolidly　wise　Old　English　sheepdogs　who　were　to　prove　invaluable
  in　finding　and　succoring　and　reporting　the　wounded；down　to　the
  humble　terriers　and　mongrels　who　were　taught　to　rid　trenches　of
  vermin。
  Everywhere　was　quiet　efficiency　and　tirelessly　patient　and
  skillful　work　on　the　part　of　the　trainers。　For　Britain's　best　dog
  men　had　been　recruited　for　service　here。　On　the　perfection　of
  their　charges'　training　might　depend　the　fate　of　many　thousand
  gallant　soldiers。　Wherefore；　the　training　was　perfect。
  Hundreds　of　dogs　proved　stupid　or　unreliable　or　gun…shy　or　too
  easily　confused　in　moments　of　stress。　These　were　weeded　out；
  continually；　and　shipped　back　to　the　masters　who　had　proffered
  them。
  Others　developed　with　amazing　speed　and　cleverness；　grasping
  their　profession　as　could　few　human　soldiers。　And　Bruce；　lonely
  and　heartsore；　yet　throwing　himself　into　his　labors　with　all　the
  zest　of　the　best　thoroughbred　type；was　one　of　this　group。
  His　early　teachings　now　stood　him　in　good　stead。　What　once　had
  been　a　jolly　game；　for　his　own　amusement　and　that　of　the　Mistress
  and　the　Master；　was　now　his　life…work。　Steadily　his　trainer
  wrought　over　him；　bringing　out　latent　abilities　that　would　have
  dumfounded　his　earliest　teachers；　steadying　and　directing　the
  gayly　dashing　intelligence；　upbuilding　and　rounding　out　all　his
  native　gifts。
  A　dog　of　Bruce's　rare　type　made　up　to　the　trainers　for　the
  dullness　of　their　average　pupils。　He　learned　with　bewildering
  ease。　He　never　forgot　a　lesson　once　taught。
  No；　the　Mistress　need　not　have　interceded　to　save　him　from
  beating。　As　soon　would　an　impresario　think　of　thrashing　Caruso　or
  Paderewski　as　would　Bruce's　glum　Scottish　trainer　have　laid　whip
  to　this　best　pupil　of　his。　Life　was　bare　and　strict　for　Bruce。
  But　life　was　never　unkind　to　him；　in　these　first　months　of　exile
  from　The　Place。　And；　bit　by　bit；　he　began　to　take　a　joy　in　his
  work。
  Not　for　a　day；perhaps　not　for　an　hour；　did　the　big　collie
  forget　the　home　of　his　babyhood　or　those　he　had　delighted　to
  worship；　there。　And　the　look　of　sadness　in　his　dark　eyes　became　a
  settled　aspect。　Yet；　here；　there　was　much　to　interest　and　to
  excite　him。　And　he　grew　to　look　forward　with　pleasure　to　his
  daily　lessons。
  At　the　end　of　three　months；　he　was　shipped　to　France。　There　his
  seemingly　aimless　studies　at　the　training　camp　were　put　to　active
  use。
  *　*　*　*　*　*　*　*　*　*
  At　the　foot　of　the　long　Flanders　hill…slope　the　〃Here…We…Come〃
  Regiment；　of　mixed　American　and　French　infantry；　held　a
  caterpillar…shaped　line　of　trenches。
  To　the　right；　a　few　hundred　yards　away；　was　posted　a　Lancashire
  regiment；　supported　by　a　battalion　from　Cornwall。　On　the　left
  were　two　French　regiments。　In　front；　facing　the　hill…slope　and
  not　a　half…mile　distant；　was　the　geometric　arrangement　of
  sandbags　that　marked　the　contour　of　the　German　first…line
  trenches。
  The　hill　behind　them；　the　boches　in　front　of　them；　French　and
  British　troops　on　either　side　of　themthe　Here…We…Comes　were
  helping　to　defend　what　was　known　as　a　〃quiet'　sector。　Behind　the
  hill；　and　on　loftier　heights　far　to　the　rear；　the　Allied
  artillery　was　posted。　Somewhere　in　the　same　general　locality　lay
  a　division　of　British　reserves。
  It　is　almost　a　waste　of　words　to　have　described　thus　the
  surroundings　of　the　Here…We…Comes。　For；　with　no　warning　at　all；
  those　entire　surroundings　were　about　to　be　changed。
  Ludendorff　and　his　little　playmates　were　just　then　engaged　in　the
  congenial　sport　of　delivering　unexpected　blows　at　various
  successive　points　of　the　Allied　line；　in　an　effort　to　find　some
  spot　that　was　soft　enough　to　cave　in　under　the　impact　and　let
  through　a　horde　of　gray…clad　Huns。　And　though　none　of　the
  defenders　knew　it；　this　〃quiet〃　sector　had　been　chosen　for　such　a
  minor　blow。
  The　men　in　higher　command；　back　there　behind　the　hill　crest；　had
  a　belated　inkling；　though；　of　a　proposed　attack　on　the　lightly
  defended　front　trenches。　For　the　Allied　airplanes　which　drifted
  in　the　upper　heavens　like　a　scattered　handful　of　dragon…flies
  were　not　drifting　there　aimlessly。　They　were　the　eyes　of　the
  snakelike　columns　that　crawled　so　blindly　on　the　scarred　brown
  surface　of　the　earth。　And　those　〃eyes〃　had　discerned　the　massing
  of　a　force　behind　the　German　line　had　discerned　and　had　duly
  reported　it。
  The　attack　might　come　in　a　day。　It　might　not　come　in　a　week。　But
  it　was　comingunless　the　behind…the…lines　preparations　were　a
  gigantic　feint。
  A　quiet　dawn；　in　the　quiet　trenches　of　the　quiet　sector。
  Desultory　artillery　and　somewhat　less　desultory　sniping　had
  prevailed　throughout　the　night；　and　at　daybreak；　but　nothing　out
  of　the　ordinary。
  Two　men　on　listening…post　had　been　shot；　and　so　had　an
  overcurious　sentry　who　peeped　just　an　inch　too　far　above　a
  parapet。　A　shell　had　burst　in　a　trench；　knocking　the　telephone
  connection　out　of　gear　and　half　burying　a　squad　of　sleepers　under
  a　lot　of　earth。　Otherwise；　things　were　drowsily　dull。
  In　a　dugout　sprawled　Top…Sergeant　Mahan；formerly　of　Uncle　Sam's
  regular　army；　playing　an　uninspiring　game　of　poker　with　Sergeant
  Dale　of　his　company　and　Sergeant　Vivier　of　the　French　infantry。
  The　Frenchman　was　slow　in　lea