spy has to do is to flash a signal, any night, that a boche airman can
pick up or that can even be seen with good glasses from some high point
where it can be relayed to the German lines. The guy who laid out this
burg was sure thoughtless. He might have known there'd be a war some
day. He might even have strained his mind and guessed that we'd be
stuck here. Gee!"

He broke off with a grunt of disgust; nor did he so much as listen to
another of the group who sought to lure him into an opinion as to
whether the spy might be an inhabitant of the village or a
camp-follower.

Sucking at his pipe; the Sergeant glowered moodily down the ruined
street. The village drowsed under the hot midday. Here and there a
soldier lounged along aimlessly or tried out his exercise-book French
on some puzzled, native. Now and then an officer passed in or out of
the half-unroofed mairie which served as regimental headquarters.

Beyond, in the handkerchief-sized village square, a platoon was
drilling. A thin French housewife was hanging sheets on a line behind a
shell-twisted hovel. A Red Cross nurse came out of the hospital-church
across the street from the estaminet and seated herself on the stone
steps with a basketful of sewing.

Mahan's half-shut eyes rested critically on the drilling
platoon--amusedly on the woman who was so carefully hanging the ragged
sheets,--and then approvingly upon the Red Cross nurse on the church
steps across the way.

Mahan, like most other soldiers, honored and revered the Red Cross for
its work of mercy in the army. And the sight of one of the several
local nurses of the Order won from him a glance of real approbation.

But presently into his weather-beaten face came an expression of glad
welcome. Out of the mairie gate and into the sleepy warmth of the
street lounged a huge dark-brown-and-white collie. The don stretched
himself lazily, fore and aft, in true collie style, then stood gazing
about him as if in search of something of interest to occupy his bored
attention.

"Hello!" observed Mahan, breaking in on a homily of Vivier's. "There's
Bruce!"

Vivier's leathery face brightened at sound of the collie's name. He
looked eagerly in the direction of Mahan's pointing finger.

"Ce brave!" exclaimed the Frenchman. "I did not know even that he was
in the village. It must be he is but new-arriven. Otherwise he would,
of an assuredly, have hunted up his old friends. Ohe, Bruce!" he called
invitingly.