Presently,--not relishing the rebukes of the friends who had
heretofore pestered him by overmuch petting,--the collie arose
quietly from his couch of trampled earth at the foot of the stone
bench and strolled back across the street. Most of the men were
too busy, talking, to note Bruce's departure. But Sergeant Mahan
caught sight of him just as the dog was mounting the last of the
steps leading into the church.

As a rule, when Bruce went investigating, he walked carelessly
and with his tail slightly a-wag. Now his tail was stiff as an
icicle, and he moved warily, on the tips of his toes. His tawny-
maned neck was low. Mahan, understanding dogs, did not like the
collie's demeanor. Remembering that the nurse had entered the
church a few minutes earlier, the Sergeant got to his feet and
hastily followed Bruce.

The dog, meanwhile, had passed through the crazily splintered
doorway and had paused on the threshold of the improvised
hospital, as the reek of iodoform and of carbolic smote upon his
sensitive nostrils. In front of him was the stone-paved
vestibule. Beyond was the interior of the shattered church, lined
now with double rows of cots.

Seated on a camp-chair in the shadowy vestibule was the pseudo
Red Cross nurse. At sight of the collie the nurse got up in some
haste. Bruce, still walking stiff-legged, drew closer.

Out from under the white skirt flashed a capable and solidly-
shod foot. In a swinging kick, the foot let drive at the oncoming