The weekly times-record. (Valley City, N.D.) 1912-1922, 1915-03-11
CONTINUED from page six)

t. OOedienCa. HIS softened eyes, how.
ever, and his nervous fingers as they
pulled at his mustache, showed that
the command had touched him.
What shall I do with you, old fel.
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-
fidence and affection that it completed
the work. Sabron walked across the
floor, smoking. the spurs on his heels
clanking, the light shining on his bril-
liant boots and on his uniform. He
was splendid-looking man with race
and breeding, and he combined with
his masculine force the gentleness Of
q 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 am going
to do out there in the long eastern
evenings?" He reflected. What does
the world expect an uncompanioned
wanderer to do?" There are many
things and the less thought about
them, the better.
"A letter for Monsieur lie Capitaine."
Brunei returned with q note which he
presented stifly, 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
q personal servant. The indigenes are
capable performances.
AS he took the letter from Brunet's
salver he said CURLY:
II am ordered to Algiers and shall
not take horses nor Pitchoune."
The dog, at mention Of his name,
set Brunets leg free and stood quiet.
his head lifted.
"Nor you either, mon brave Brl'
net" Sabron put his hand on his
servants shoulder, the first familiarity
he had ever shown q 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 rudy cheek of the servant
turned pale. He mechanically touched
his forehead
'Bien, mon Capitaine," he muir
INJURED, with little catch in his voice.
He stood at attention, then wheeled
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 understood-who
shall say-how much of the converse
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. It was the first letter he had
ever seen in this handwriting. It was
written in French and ran thus:
NIonsieur-My aunt wishes me to ask
you II you will come to us for a little
musicale tomorrow afternoon. We hope
you will be free, and I hope, she added,
that you will bring Pitchoune. Not that
think he will care for the music, but
afterward perhaps he will run with us as
We walk to the gate. My aunt wishes me
to say that she has learned from the COL
onel that you have been ordered to Al
giers. In this way she says that we shall
have an opportunity Of wishing you boz
voyage, and say hope Pitchoune viii
be comfort to you. r-
The letter ended in the usual forma
French fashion. Sabron, turning the
letter and rereading it, found that II
completed the work that had been 60
ing on in his lonely heart. He stooS
long, musing.
III Pitchoune laid himself down on the
rug, his bright little head between hif
paws. his affectionate eyes on his mas
ter. The freight shone on them both
the musing young officer and the al
most human-hearted little beast. Sc
Brunei found them when he came IN
with the lamp shortly, and as he SET
it down on the table and its light
shone on him, sabron. glancing at the
ordinance, saw that his eyes were
red, and liked him none the less for It
CHAPTER VII.
A Soldiers Dog.
1T is just as thought" he told
Pitchoune. II took you into my life,