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shrub…grown ground； Bruce gravely paced to and fro at his side。 But
presently this aimless promenade began to wax uninteresting。 And； as the
two came to the far end of the beat； Bruce yawned and lay down。 It was
pleasanter to lie there and to watch the sentinel do the walking。
Stretched out； in a little grass…hollow； the dog followed blinkingly with
his soft brown eyes the pendulumlike progress of his friend。 And always
the dog's plumed tail would beat rhythmic welcome against the ground as
the sentry approached him。
Thus nearly an hour wore on。 A fat moon butted its lazy way through
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the smoke…mists of the eastern skyline。
Then something happenedsomething that Bruce could readily have
forestalled if the wind had been blowing from the other direction； and if a
dog's eyes were not as nearsighted as his nose is farsmelling。
The Missourian paused to run his hand caressingly over the collie's
rough mane； and moved on； down the lonely beat。 Bruce watched his
receding figure； drowsily。 At the end of ninety yards or more； the
Missourian passed by a bunch of low bushes which grew at the near side
of a stretch of hilly and shellpocked ground。 He moved past the bushes；
still watched by the somewhat bored dog。
It was then that Bruce saw a patch of bushshadow detach itself from
the rest； under the glow of the rising moon。 The shadow was humpy and
squat。 Noiseless； it glided out from among the bushes； close at the sentry's
heels； and crept after him。
Bruce pricked his ears and started to get up。 His curiosity was roused。
The direction of the wind prevented him from smelling out the nature of
the mystery。 It also kept his keen hearing from supplying any clue。 And
the distance would not permit him to see with any distinctness。
Still his curiosity was very mild。 Surely； if danger threatened； the
sentinel would realize it。 For by this time the Shadow was a bare three feet
behind him near enough； by Bruce's system of logic； for the Missourian to
have smelled and heard the pursuer。 So Bruce got up； in the most leisurely
fashion； preparatory to strolling across to investigate。 But at almost his
first step he saw something that changed his gracefully slouching walk
into a charging run。
The Shadow suddenly had merged with the sentinel。 For an instant； in
stark silence； the two seemed to cling together。 Then the Shadow fled； and
the lanky Missourian slumped to the earth in a sprawling heap； his throat
cut。
The slayer had been a deft hand at the job。 No sound had escaped the
Missourian； from the moment the stranglingly tight left arm had been
thrown around his throat from behind until； a second later； he fell bleeding
and lifeless。
In twenty leaping strides； Bruce came up to the slain sentinel and bent
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over him。 Dog…instinct told the collie his friend had been done to death。
And the dog's power of scent told him it was a German who had done the
killing。
For many months； Bruce had been familiar with the scent of German
soldiers； so different from that of the army in which he toiled。 And he had
learned to hate it； even as a dog hates the vague 〃crushed cucumber〃 smell
of a pitviper。 But while every dog dreads the viper…smell as much as he
loathes it； Bruce had no fear at all of the boche odor。 Instead； it always
awoke in him a blood…lust； as fierce as any that had burned in his wolf…
ancestors。
This same fury swept him now； as he stood； quivering； above the body
of the kindly man who so lately had petted him； this and a craving to
revenge the murder of his human friend。
For the briefest time； Bruce stood there； his dark eyes abrim with
unhappiness and bewilderment； as he gazed down on the huddled form in
the wet grass。 Then an electric change came over him。 The softness fled
from his eyes； leaving them bloodshot and blazing。 His great tawny ruff
bristled like an angry cat's。 The lazy gracefulness departed from his
mighty body。 It became tense and terrible。 In the growing moonlight his
teeth gleamed whitely from under his upcurled lip。
In a flash he turned and set off at a loping run； nose close to ground；
his long stride deceptively swift。 The zest of the man… hunt had obsessed
him； as completely as； that day； it had spurred the advance of the 〃Here…
We…Comes。〃
The trail of the slayer was fresh； even over such broken ground。 Fast
as the German had fled； Bruce was flying faster。 Despite the murderer's
long start； the dog speedily cut down the distance between his quarry and
himself。 Not trusting to sight； but solely to his unerring sense of smell。
Bruce sped on。
Then； in a moment or two； his hearing re…enforced his scent。 He could
catch the pad…pad…pad of running feet。 And the increasing of the sound
told him he was gaining fast。
But in another bound his ears told him something elsesomething he
would have heard much sooner； had not the night wind been setting so
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strongly in the other direction。 He heard not only the pounding of his
prey's heavy…shod feet； but the soft thud of hundredsperhaps thousands
of other army shoes。 And now； despite the adverse wind； the odor of
innumerable soldiers came to his fiercely sniffing nostrils。 Not only was it
the scent of soldiers； but of German soldiers。
For the first time； Bruce lifted his head from the ground； as he ran； and
peered in front of him。 The moon had risen above the low…lying horizon
vapors into a clear sky； and the reach of country was sharply visible。
Bruce saw the man he was chasing；saw him plainly。 The German
was still running； but not at all as one who flees from peril。 He ran； rather；
as might the bearer of glad tidings。 And he was even now drawing up to a
group of men who awaited eagerly his coming。 There must have been fifty
men in the group。 Behind themin open formation and as far as the dog's
near…sighted eyes could see were more men； and more； and more
thousands of them； all moving stealthily forward。
Now； a collie （in brain； though never in heart） is much more wolf than
dog。 A bullterrier； or an Airedale；