Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1915-03-30

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 note which he
presented stifly, and Pitchoune, who
chose in his little brain to imagine
Brunei an intruder. ssprang 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
a personal servant. The tndigenes are
rapable performances.
AS ne lOOA Iuc 1Stt0I AAOA Ia u4OS .
salver he said CURLY: i
II am ordered to Algiers and shall
not take horses nor Pitchoune."
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. "Thoses said the officer curtly,
"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 q 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. 1t was the first letter he had
ever seen in this handwriting. It was
written in French and ran thus:
Monsieur--My aunt wishes me to ask
you II you will come to US for little
musicale tomorrow afternoon. We hope
you will be free. and hope. she added
that you will bring Pitchoune. Not that
I 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 Dor
voyage. and 1 say I hope Pitchoune will
be comfort to you.
The letter ended in the usual formal
French fashion. Sabron, turning the
letter and rereading it, found that il
completed the work that had been 60
ing on in his lonely heart. He stood
long, musing.
Pitchoune laid himself down on the
rug. his bright little head between his
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 So
Brunei found them when he came in
with the lamp shortly. and as he get
It down on the table and its light
shone on him, sabron. glancing at the
ordonnance, saw that his eyes were
red, and liked him none the less for It
<To Be Contirued.)