The star-independent. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1904-1917, 1915-04-01
CHAPTER XIII.
One Dogs Day.

mere must be real philosophy in
all proverbs. Every dog has his day"
Is a significant one 1t surely was for
Pitchoune. He had his day. It was
glorious one, terrible one, a memor
able one, and he played his little part
in it, He awoke at the gray dawn.
springing like fash from the foot of
Sabron's bed, where he lay asleep, in
response to the sound of the reveille
and Sabron sprang up after him.
Pitchoune in few moments was ir
the center of real disorder. All he
knew was that he followed his master
all day long. The dogs knowledge die
not comprehend the fact that not only
had the native village, of which his
master spoke in his letter to Miss Red
mond, been destroyed, but that Sab
ron's regiment itself was menaced By
a concerted and concentrated attach
from an entire tribe, led by fanatic
as hotminded and as fierce as the
Mahdi of Sudanese history.
Pitchoune followed at the heels OF
his masters horse. No one paid any
attention to him. Heaven knows why
he was not trampled to death, but he
was not. No one trod on him; no
horses hoof hit his little wiry form
that managed in the midst OF carnage
and death to keep itself secure and his
hide whole. He smelt the gunpowder,
he smelt the smoke, smiled at it,
threw up his pretty head and barked
pulled and painted, yelped and tore
about and followed He was not con.
scious of anything but that Sabron
was in motion; that Sabron, his be.
loved master, was in action of some
kind or other and he. soldiers dog,
was in action. too He howled at
fierce dark faces, when he saw them.
He snarled at the bullets that whis.
tied around his ears and. laying his
little ears back, he shook his black
muzzle in the very grin of death
Sabron's horse was shot under him,
and then Pitchoune saw his master
sprang upon him, and his feelings were
not hurt that no attention was paid
him. that not even his name was
called, and as Sabron struggled ON,
Pitchoune followed 1t was his day;
he was fighting the natives; he was
part of a battle; he was soldiers
dog! Little by little the creatures
and things around him grew fewer,
the smoke cleared and rolled away,
fhnrn Of
around hi in which he stood and
barked; then he was off again close to
his masters heels and not too soon
He did not know the blow that strucl
oaDron, but he saw him fell, and then
and there came into his canine heart
some knowledge of the Importance OF
his day. He had raced himself weary
Every bone in his little body ached
with fatigue.
Sabron lay his length on the bed Of
a dried-uD river, one of those phantom.
like channels OF desert stream whose
course runs watery only certain times
OF the year. Sabron, wounded in the
abdomen, lay on his side, Pitchoune
smelled him from head to foot, ad-
dressed himself to his restoration in
his own way. He licked his face and
hands and ears, sat sentinel at the be-
loved head where the forehead was
covered with sweat and blood. He
barked feverishly and to his attentive
ears there came no answer whatso-
ever, either from the wounded man in
the bed of the African river or from
the silent plains.
Sabron was deserted He had fallen
and not been missed and his regiment.
routed by the Arabs, had been driven
into retreat, Finally the little dog,
who knew by instinct that life re-
mained in his masters body, set him
self at work vigorously to awaken
sign Of life. He attacked Sabron's
shoulder as though it we're a prey; he
worried him, barked in his ear, struck
him lightly with his paw, and finally,
awakening to dreadful pain, to fever
and to isolation, awakening perhaps
to the battle for life. to the attentions