over me that it must
be one of those escaped circus animals, so I just let loose and blazed
away at him."

The surgeon stood up and looked down at the still form at his feet. "It's
too bad," he said. "He was a grand old dog, the finest St. Bernard I ever
saw. How that little girl loved him! It will just about break her heart
when she finds out what's happened to him."

"Don't!" begged the sentry, huskily. "Don't say anything like that. I feel
bad enough about it now, goodness knows, without your harrowing up my
feelings, talking of the way _she's_ going to feel."

As the surgeon started on, the sentry stopped him. "For heaven's sake,
Mac, don't leave him lying there on the picket-line where I've got to see
him every time I pass. Send somebody to take him away. I'm all unnerved. I
feel as if I'd shot one of my own comrades."

The surgeon looked at him curiously and walked on. Nobody was sent to take
the dog away, but a little while later the sentry was relieved from duty,
and another soldier kept guard over the silent camp, pacing back and forth
past the Red Cross Hero, sleeping his last sleep under the light of the
sentinel stars.

Somebody draped a flag across him before the camp was astir next morning.
"Well, why not?" the man asked when he was joked about paying so much
attention to a dead dog. "Why not? He was a war dog, wasn't he? It's no
more than his due. I was the man he found in the ditch yesterday. As far
as his intention and good will went, he did as much to save me as if I had
been really lying there a wounded soldier. When he came leaping down there
into the ditch after me, licking my face in such a friendly fashion and
holding still so that I could help myself to the flask and bandages, I
thought how grateful a fellow would feel to him if he were really rescued
by him that way. It was all make-believe to me, but it was dead earnest to
the dog, and he did his part as faithfully as any soldier who ever wore a
uniform."

"You're right," said a young lieutenant, sitting near. "If for no other
reason than that he was in the service of the Red Cross, he has a right to
the respect of every man that calls himself a soldier, no matter what flag
he follows."

Later in the morning, when the orderly rode into the little picnic camp,
the girls were away. They were down by the waterfall digging ferns and
mosses to take home. "We are thinking of breaking up camp this afternoon,"
Mrs. Walton told him. "The weathe