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Horribly visible in every detail； the Werewolf was glaring at him。 He
could see the red glow of the gigantic devil…beast's eyes； the white flash of
its teeth； the ghostly shimmering of its snowy chest。 The soul of the man
he had slain had taken this traditional form and was hunting down the
slayer！ A thousand stories of Freund's childhood verified the frightful truth。
And overwrought human nature's endurance went to pieces under the
shock。
A maniac howl of terror split the midnight stillness。 Shriek after shriek
rent the air。 Freund tumbled convulsively to the ground at his colonel's feet；
gripping the officer's booted knees and screeching for protection。 The
colonel； raging that the surprise attack should be imperiled by such a
racket； beat the frantic man over the mouth with his heavy fist； kicking
ferociously at his upturned writhing face； and snarling to him to be silent。
The shower of blows brought Freund back to sanity； to the extent of
changing his craven terror into Fear's secondary phasethe impulse to
strike back at the thing that had caused the fright。 Rolling over and over on
the ground； under the impact of his superior's fist blows and kicks； Freund
somehow regained his feet。
Reeling up to the nearest soldier； the panic…crazed corporal snatched
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the private's rifle and fired three times； blindly； at Bruce。 Then； foaming at
the mouth； Freund fell heavily to earth again； chattering and twitching in a
fit。
Bruce； at the second shot； leaped high in the air； and collapsed； in an
inert furry heap； among the bushes。 There he lay；his career as a courier…
dog forever ended。
Corporal Rudolph Freund was perhaps the best sniper in his regiment。
Wildly though he had fired； marksman…instinct had guided his bullets。 And
at such close range there was no missing。 Bruce went to earth with one
rifle ball through his body； and another in his leg。 A third had reached his
skull。
Now； the complete element of surprise was all…needful for the attack
the Germans had planned against the 〃Here…We…Comes。〃 Deprived of that
advantage the expedition was doomed to utter failure。 For； given a chance
to wake and to rally； the regiment could not possibly be 〃rushed；〃 in vivid
moonlight； before the nearest Allied forces could move up to its support。
And those forces were only a mile or so to the rear。 There can be no
possible hope for a surprise attack upon a well…appointed camp when the
night's stillness has been shattered by a series of maniac screams and by
three echoing rifle…shots。
Already the guard was out。 A bugle was blowing。 In another minute；
the sentry…calls would locate the gap made by the three murdered
sentinels。
A swift guttural conference among the leaders of the gray…clad
marauders was followed by the barking of equally guttural commands。
And the Germans withdrew as quietly and as rapidly as they had come。
* * * * * * * * * * *
It was the mouthing and jabbering of the fit…possessed Corporal
Rudolph Freund that drew to him the notice of a squad of Yankees led by
Top…Sergeant Mahan； ten minutes later。 It was the shudder accompanied
pointing of the delirious man's finger； toward the nearby clump of
undergrowth； that revealed to them the still warm body of Bruce。
Back to camp； carried lovingly in Mahan's strong arms； went all that
was left of the great courier…dog。 Back to camp； propelled between two
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none…too…gentle soldiers； staggered the fit…ridden Corporal Freund。
At the colonel's quarters； a compelling dose of stimulant cleared some
of the mists from the prisoner's brain。 His nerve and his will…power still
gone to smash； he babbled eagerly enough of the night attack； of the
killing of the sentries and of his encounter with the Werewolf。
〃I saw him fall！〃 he raved。 〃But he is not dead。 The Werewolf can be
killed only by a silver bullet； marked with a cross and blessed by a priest。
He will live to track me down！ Lock me where he cannot find me； for the
sake of sweet mercy！〃
And in this way； the 〃Here…We…Comes〃 learned of Bruce's part in the
night's averted disaster。
Old Vivier wept unashamed over the body of the dog he had loved。
Top…Sergeant Mahanthe big tears splashing； unnoted； from his own red
eyesbesought the Frenchman to strive for better self… control and not to
set a cry…baby example to the men。
Then a group of grim…faced soldiers dug a grave。 And； carried by
Mahan and Vivier； the beautiful dog's body was borne to its resting…place。
A throng of men in the gray dawn stood wordless around the grave。 Some
one shamefacedly took off his hat。 With equal shamefacedness； everybody
else followed the example。
Mahan laid the dog's body on the ground； at the grave's brink。 Then；
looking about him； he cleared his throat noisily and spoke。
〃Boys；〃 he began； 〃when a human dies for other humans； there's a
Christian burial service read over him。 I'd have asked the chaplain to read
one over Bruce； here； if I hadn't known he'd say no。 But the Big Dog isn't
going to rest without a word said over his grave； for all that。〃
Mahan cleared his throat noisily once more； winked fast； then went
on：
〃You can laugh at me； if any of you feel like it。 But there's some of
you here who wouldn't be alive to laugh； if Bruce hadn't done what he did
last night。 He was only just a dogwith no soul； and with no life after this
one； I s'pose。 So he went ahead and did his work and took the risks； and
asked no pay。
〃And by and by he died； still doing his work and asking no pay。
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〃He didn't work with the idea of getting a cross or a ribbon or a
promotion or a pension or his name in the paper or to make the crowd
cheer him when he got back home； or to brag to the homefolks about how
he was a hero。 He just went ahead and WAS a hero。 That's because he was
only a dog； with no souland not a man。
〃All of us humans are working for some reward； even if it's only for
our pay or for the fun of doing our share。 But Bruce was a hero because he
was just a dog； and because he didn't know enough to be anything else but
a hero。
〃I've heard about him； before he joined up with us。 I guess most of us
have。 He lived up in Jersey； somewhere。 With folks that had bred him。 I'll
bet a year's pay he was made a lot of by those folks； and that it wrenched
'em to let him go。 You could see he'd been brought up that way。 Life must
'a' been pretty happy for the old chap； back there。 Then he was picked up
and slung into the middle of this hell。
〃So was the rest of us； says you。 But you're wrong。 Those of us that
waited for the draft had our choice of going to the hoosgow； as
'conscientious objectors；' if we didn't want to fight。 And every mother's
son of us knew we was fighting for the Right； and that we was making the
world a decenter and safer place for our grandchildren and our
womenfolks to live in。 We didn't brag about God being on our side； like
the boches do。 It was enough for us to know WE was on GOD'S side and
fighting His great fight for Him。 We had patriotism and religion and Right；
behind us； to give us strength。
〃Brucie hadn't a one of those things。 He didn't know what he was here
forand why he'd been pitched out of his nice home； into all this。 He
didn't have a chance to say Yes or No。 He didn't have any spellbinders to
tell him he was making the world safe for d'mocracy。 He was MADE to
come。
〃How would any of us humans have acted； if a deal like that had been
handed to us？ We'd 'a' grouched and slacked and maybe deserted。 That's
because we're lords of creation and have souls and brains and such。 What
did Bruce do？ He jumped into this game； with bells on。 He risked his life a
hundred times； and he was just as ready to risk it again the next day。
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