it. He
lurched backward, belatedly throwing both hands up to defend his
throat. It was the involuntary backward step which saved his jugular.
For his heel caught in the hem of his white skirt. And wholly off
balance, he pitched headlong to the floor.

This jerky shift of position, on the part of the foe, spoiled Bruce's
aim. His fearful jaws snapped together harmlessly in empty air at a
spot where, a fraction of a second earlier, the other's throat had
been. Down crashed the disguised man. And atop of him the furious dog
hurled himself, seeking a second time the throatgrip he had so narrowly
missed.

At this point on the program Sergeant Mahan arrived just in time to
bury both hands in the mass of Bruce's furry ruff and to drag the
snarlingly rabid dog back from his prey.

The place was in an uproar. Nurses and doctors came rushing out into
the vestibule; sick and wounded men sat up on their cots and eagerly
craned their necks to catch sight of the scrimmage. Soldiers ran in
from the street.

Strong as he was, Mahan had both hands full in holding the frantic
Bruce back from his enemy. Under the insult of the kick from this
masquerader, whom he had already recognized as a foe, the collie had
temporarily lost every vestige of his stately dignity. He was for the
moment merely a wild beast, seeking revenge for a brutal injury. He
writhed and fought in Mahan's grasp. Never once did he seek to attack
the struggling man who held him. But he strained every giant sinew to
get at the foe who had kicked him.

The dog's opponent scrambled to his feet, helped by a dozen willing
hands and accosted by as many solicitous voices. The victim's face was
bone-gray with terror. His lips twitched convulsively. Yet, as befitted
a person in his position, he had a splendid set of nerves. And almost
at once he recovered partial control over himself.

"I--I don't know how it happened," he faltered, his rich contralto
voice shaky with the ground-swells of his recent shock. "It began when
I was sitting on the steps, sewing. This dog came past. He growled at
me so threateningly that I came indoors. A minute later, while I was
sitting here sewing, he sprang at me and threw me down. I believe he
would--would have killed me," the narrator finished, with a very
genuine shudder, "if I had not been rescued when I was. Such
bloodthirsty brutes ought to be shot!"

"He not only OUGHT to be," hotly agreed the chief surgeon, "but he is
GOING to be. T