that it appeared to be a
child. He was too old a man, and with his one arm too helpless to
attempt to stop it, but he remembered that Hero had once shared the
training of some collies for police service, before it had been decided
to use him as an ambulance dog. They were taught to spring at the
bridles of escaping horses.

"I was doubtful if Hero remembered those early lessons," said the Major,
"but I called out to him sharply, for the love of heaven to stop it if
he could, and that instant he was at the horse's head, hanging on with
all his might. Bravo, old fellow!" he continued, turning to the dog as
he spoke. "We are proud of you this day!"

They were in the corridor of the hotel now, and the Little Colonel,
kneeling beside Hero and putting her arms around his neck, finished her
sobbing with her fair little face laid fondly against his silky coat.

"Oh, you deah, deah old Hero," she said. "You saved me, and I'll love
you fo' evah and evah!"

The crowd was still in front of the hotel, and the corridor full of
excited servants and guests, when Mr. and Mrs. Sherman hurried in. They
had taken the first carriage they could hail and driven as fast as
possible in the wake of the runaway. Mrs. Sherman was trembling so
violently that she could scarcely stand, when they reached the hotel.
The clerk who ran out to assure them of the Little Colonel's safety was
loud in his praises of the faithful St. Bernard.

Hero had known many masters. He had been taught to obey many voices.
Many hands had fed and fondled him, but no hand had ever lain quite so
tenderly on his head, as the Little Colonel's. No one had ever looked
into his eyes so gratefully as she, and no voice had ever thrilled him
with as loving tones as hers, as she knelt there beside him, calling him
all the fond endearing names she knew. He understood far better than if
he had been human, that she loved him. Eagerly licking her hands and
wagging his tail, he told her as plainly as a dog can talk that
henceforth he would be one of her best and most faithful of friends.

If petting and praise and devoted attention could spoil a dog, Hero's
head would certainly have been turned that day, for friends and
strangers alike made much of him. A photographer came to take his
picture for the leading daily paper. Before nightfall his story was
repeated in every home in Geneva. No servant in the hotel but took a
personal pride in him or watched his chance to give him a sly sw