The daily star-mirror. (Moscow, Idaho) 1911-1939, 1915-04-13
CHAPTER XIII.
One Dogs Day.

Pitchoune. He had his day. 1t was a
glorious one, terrible one, memoir
able one, and he played his little part
in it. He awoke at the gray dawn,
springing like a fash from the foot of
Sabrons bed, where he lay asleep, in
response to the sound of the reveille,
and Sabron sprang up after him.
Pitchoune in few moments was in
the center Of real disorder All he
knew was that he followed his master
all day long. The dogs knowledge did
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
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, shifted at it,
threw up his pretty head and parked,
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 a soldiers
dog Little by little the creatures
and things around him grew fewer,
the smoke cleared and rolled away,
there were a few feet of freedom
around him 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 struck
Sabron, but he saw him fall, 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.
SAFFRON lay his length on the bed OF
a dried-up river, one of those phantom
like channels of desert stream whose
course runs watery only certain times
of the year. Sabrons 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 he'd 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- |
NAMED in his masters body, set him.
self at work vigorously to awaken
sign of life. He attacked Sabron's
shoulder as though it were prey; he
worried him, parked 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
of his friend, the spahi opened his
eyes.
Sabron's wound was serious, but his
body was vigorous strong and healthy,
and his mind more so. There was
film over it just now. He raised him
self with great effort, and in moment
realized where he was and that to
Iinger there was horrible death. On
each side of the river rose an inclined
bank, not very high and thickly grown
with mimosa bush. This meant to him
hat beyond it and probably within
easy reach, there would be shade from
he intense and dreadful glare beat
ing down upon him, with death IN
avery ray. He groaned and Pitchoune's
voice answered him. Sabron paid no
attention to his dog, did not even call
lis name. His mind, accustomed to
1uick decisions and to matter-of-fact
of life, instantly took It's
proper course. He must get out OF the
.iver bed or die there, rot there.
What there was before him to 90