bruce- 第10部分

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　learning　poker's　mysteries。



And；　anyway；　all　three　men　were　temporarily　penniless　and　were

forced　to　play　for　I。O。U'swhich　is　stupid　sport；　at　best。



So　when；　from　the　German　line；　came　a　quick　sputt…sputt…sputt

from　a　half…dozen　sharpshooters'　rifles；　all　three　men　looked　up

from　their　desultory　game　in　real　interest。　Mahan　got　to　his　feet

with　a　grunt。



〃Some　other　fool　has　been　trying　to　see　how　far　he　can　rubber

above　the　sandbags　without　drawing　boche　fire；〃　he　hazarded；

starting　out　to　investigate。　〃It's　a　miracle　to　me　how　a　boche

bullet　can　go　through　heads　that　are　so　full　of　first…quality

ivory　as　those　rubberers'。〃



But　Mahan's　strictures　were　quite　unwarranted。　The　sharpshooters

were　not　firing　at　the　parapet。　Their　scattering　shots　were

flying　high；　and　hitting　against　the　slope　of　the　hill　behind　the

trenches。



Adown　this　shellpocked　hillside；　as　Mahan　and　the　other

disturbed　idlers　gazed；　came　cantering　a　huge　dark…brown…and…

wh