The daily star-mirror. (Moscow, Idaho) 1911-1939, 1915-03-30
CHAPTER vi (Continued)

Sabron twisted the telegram, put it
in the fireplace and lighted his ciga-
rette with it, watching Pitchoune who
finding himself a comfortable corner
in the armchair, had settled down for
a nap.
80" nodded the young man aloud,
Il shall not even have Pitchoune."
He smoked, musing In the rigid dis
cipline of,h;s soldiers life he was used
to obedience. His softened eyes, how
ever, and his nervous fingers as they
pulled at his mustache, showed that
the command had touched him.
What shall do with you, old fell
low"
Although Sabron's voice was low,
the dog, whose head was down upon
his paws, turned his bright brown
eyes on his master with so much con-
fdence and affection that it completed
the work. Sabron walked across the
floor, smoking, the spurs on his heels
clanking, the light shining on his brill
was a splendid-looking man with race
and breeding, and he combined with
his masculine force the gentleness of
a woman.
"They want me to be lonely" he
thought "All that the chiefs consider
is the soldier-not the man-even the
companionship Of my dog is denied
me. What do they think I am going
to do out there in the long eastern
evenings?" He reflected. What does
the world expect an Hncompanioned
wanderer to do?" There are many
things and the less thought about
them. the better
"a letter for Monsieur lie Capitaine."
Brunei returned with note which he
presented stiff1y, and Pitchoune, who
chose in his little brain to imagine
Brunei an intruder, sprang from the
chair like lightning, rushed at the
servant, seized the leg of his panta-
looms and began to worry them, growl-
ing. Brunei regarding him with adora-
ton. Sabron had not thought aloud
the last words of the telegram, which
he had used to light his cigarette.
Nor will it be necessary to take
personal servant. The indigenes are
capable ordonnances
AS he took the letter from Brunet's
salver he said CURLY:
Il am ordered to Algiers and shall
not take horses nor Ptchoune."
The dog, at mention of his name,
set Brunet's leg free and stood quiet,
his head lifted.
Nor you either, mon brave Bru-
net" Sabron put his hand on his
servants shoulder, the first familiarity |
he had ever shown a man who served
him with devotion, and who would |
have given his life to save his mas
ter's. Those" said the officer CURLY,
"are the orders from headquarters, and
the least said about them the better
The ruddy cheek Of the servant
turned pale He mechanically touched
his forehead.
"Bien, mon Capitaine," he MUIR
with little catch in his voice.
and without being dismissed, stalked
out of the room.
Pitchoune did not follow. He re-
NAMED immovable like a little dog cut
from bronze; he understandable
shall say-how much Of the conversa-
ton? Sabron threw away his ciga-
rette, then read his letter by the man.
tlepiece, leaning his arm upon it. He
read slowly. He had broken the seal
slowly. 1t was the first letter he had
ever seen in this handwriting 1t was
written in French and ran thus:
Monseur-My aunt wishes me to ask
you if you will come to US for little
musicale tomorrow afternoon. We hope
you will be free, and hope, she added,
hat you will bring Pitchoune. Not that ,
think he will care for the music, but
Lfterward perhaps he will run with us as
We walk to the gate My aunt wishes me
o say that she has learned from the col
mel that you have been ordered to AL ,
,iers. In this way she says that we shall
ave an opportunity Of wishing you bon