As he trotted by the steps, the Red Cross nurse, who sat sewing
there, chirped timidly at him. Bruce paused in his leisurely
progress to see who had accosted him whether an old acquaintance,
to be greeted as such, or merely a pleasantly inclined stranger.

His soft brown eyes rested first in idle inquiry upon the angular
and white-robed figure on the steps. Then, on the instant, the
friendly inquiring look left his eyes and their softness went
with it--leaving the dog's gaze cold and frankly hostile.

One corner of Bruce's lips slowly lifted, revealing a tiny view
of the terrible white fangs behind them. His gayly erect head was
lowered, and in the depths of his furry throat a growl was born.
When a dog barks and holds his head up, there is little enough to
fear from him. But when he lowers his head and growl--then look
out.

Mahan knew dogs. In stark amazement he now noted Bruce's strange
attitude toward the nurse. Never before had he seen the dog show
active hostility toward a stranger--least of all toward a
stranger who had in no way molested him. It was incredible that
the wontedly dignified and sweet-tempered collie had thus
returned a greeting. Especially from a woman!

Mahan had often seen Red Cross nurses stop to caress Bruce. He
had been amused at the dog's almost protective cordiality toward
all women, whether the French peasants or the wearers of the
brassard of mercy.