the plop of star-shells
sent up by the enemy in futile hope of penetrating the viscid fog. And
everywhere was heard the shuffle and stumbling of innumerable boots.

At last the noise of feet began to die away, and the uneven groping
tread of the twelve Americans to sound more distinctly for the
lessening of the surrounding turmoil. And in another few seconds Bruce
came to a halt--not to an abrupt stop, as when he had allowed an enemy
squad to pass in front of him, but a leisurely checking of speed, to
denote that he could go no farther with the load he was helping to haul.

Mahan put out his free hand. It encountered the American wires. Bruce
had stopped at the spot where the party had cut a narrow path through
the entanglement on the outward journey. Alone, the dog could easily
have passed through the gap, but he could not be certain of pulling
Mahan with him. Wherefore the halt.

* * * * *

The last of the twelve men scrambled down to safety, in the American
first-line trench, Bruce among them. The lieutenant went straight to
his commanding officer, to make his report. Sergeant Mahan went
straight to his company cook, whom he woke from a snoreful sleep.
Presently Mahan ran back to where the soldiers were gathered admiringly
around Bruce.

The Sergeant carried a chunk of fried beef, for which he had just given
the cook his entire remaining stock of cigarettes.

"Here you are, Bruce!" he exclaimed. "The best in the shop is none too
good for the dog that got us safe out of that filthy mess. Eat hearty!"

Bruce did not so much as sniff at the (more or less) tempting bit of
meat. Coldly he looked up at Mahan. Then, with sensitive ears laid flat
against his silken head, in token of strong contempt, he turned his
back on the Sergeant and walked away.

Which was Bruce's method of showing what he thought of a human fool who
would give him a command and who would then hold so tightly to him that
the dog could hardly carry out the order.

CHAPTER V. The Double Cross

In the background lay a landscape that had once been beautiful. In the
middle distance rotted a village that had once been alive. In the
foreground stood an edifice that had once been a church. The
once-beautiful landscape had the look of a gigantic pockmarked face, so
scored was it by shell-scar and crater. Its vegetation was swept away.
Its trees were shattered stumps. Its farmsteads were charred piles of
rubble.

The vi