en--well, 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!"

* * * * *

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 for his year
on