often heard Bruce's praises sung. He had never chanced to see the
dog until now. But, beneath his armor of dignity, he quaked to
think what the results to himself must have been, had he obeyed
his first impulse of drawing his pistol and shooting the adored
and pricelessly useful collie.

Mahan,--stolidly rejoicing in his victory over the top-lofty
potentate whom he disliked,--led the way out of the crowded
vestibule into the street. Bruce followed demurely at his heels
and Vivier bombarded everybody in sight for information as to
what the whole fracas was about.

Bruce was himself again. Now that the detested man in woman's
clothes had gone away, there was no sense in continuing to
struggle or to waste energy in a show of fury. Nevertheless, in
his big heart burned deathless hatred toward the German who had
kicked him. And, like an elephant, a collie never forgets.

"But," Vivier was demanding of everybody, "but why should the
gentle Bruce have attacked a good nurse? It is not what you call
'make-sense.' C'est un gentilhomme, ce vieux! He would not attack
a woman less still a sister of the Red Cross. He--"

"Of course he wouldn't," glumly assented the downhearted Mahan.
"But he DID. That's the answer. I saw him do it. He knocked her
down and--"

"Which nurse was she?" asked a soldier who had come up after the
trouble was over.