pep and his master were finally assigned to duty in the great hospital at brest and life went on there quite to the dog’s liking.
the hospital was composed of a number of long, low buildings, all cool, clean, and quiet. there were so many buildings and wards for different ailments that pep wondered how his master could ever remember where all his patients were. when the doctor was too busy to have him around, pep spent his time in the dispensary, where he was a prime favorite with captain everts, who had charge of this important portion of the hospital. the captain was also a doctor, so sometimes his friends called him “doc” and sometimes “cap,” but all were very respectful.
[74]there was a fine soft rug under a great table and here pep would lie for hours watching the doctors and nurses come and go. some of them spoke to him and some did not. for some of them he would grin and wag his tail, but the majority he hardly deigned to notice.
he usually went with the doctor for his morning rounds through the wards. he would follow sedately at his master’s heels from ward to ward.
when his master stopped to examine a patient, pep stopped and watched proceedings narrowly. there were several things that he noticed his master always did. first he would say “good morning” and “how are you this fine day?” the doctor always said that no matter if it was raining buckets full, and it was either raining or cloudy most of the time.
then the doctor would go to the paper which they called a chart at the head of the bed and study it intently. pep could usually tell whether or not his master was pleased with what he saw on the chart.
when he was not pleased, the doctor[75] would take out his watch and hold the man’s wrist. he would also sometimes look at the patient’s tongue, but usually the surgeon spent his time putting on bandages, changing dressings, and doing other needful things for the poor wounded soldiers.
some of the men would speak to pep and for some of them he would stand on his hind legs and let them stroke his head. if he liked the soldier, he would lick his hand. so it happened that many of the soldiers came to look for pep’s morning visit as much as they did for the doctor’s.
he would often visit at the convalescents’ ward on his own account. there the men were up walking around, or sitting in chairs. usually they would be playing cards, reading, or writing letters home.
they often took pep into their confidence and told him about their sweethearts at home, or that he reminded them of a dog they once knew. several of the soldiers in this ward became very fond of pep and he of them. he would allow himself to be stroked and petted a great deal by his favorites. he felt in some way that it helped the[76] soldiers to pet him. he knew that he and his master were here to help the soldiers, so he would gladly sacrifice his dignity in the good cause.
he would sit gravely listening for half an hour at a time while the soldiers talked excitedly about the battles they had been in. he noted that their faces always grew grave or angry when they mentioned the word boche. so he finally decided in his dog way, which was not quite clear as to the reasons why, that boche meant something bad. it was probably the enemy, the thing that they were all out here to fight.
finally one of the men who was fond of dogs and had a trick dog at home taught pep to growl at the mention of the boche, and this accomplishment greatly pleased the soldiers.
every two or three days the activities at the hospital would be doubled and then pep would often hear the word battle. that meant that the number of ambulances arriving that day would be greatly increased. at such times he was always out in the great quadrangle before the main building watching[77] the ambulances come and go, and the nurses and doctors unload the wounded men. it was a serious time. no one laughed or joked here as they did in the dispensary. at such times his master would not even notice him when he rubbed against his leg to attract his attention.
pep slept on his fine rug under the table in the dispensary. some one was always on duty, and nurses were coming and going all night. in fact, the hospital was almost as busy during the night as it was in the day time.
one night when he had been there about three weeks he was awakened by the most terrible thunderstorm that he had ever heard, or at least that was what he thought it. the thunder claps came one after another in quick succession. only they were much more staccato than thunder, more like giant firecrackers. nurses and doctors were hurrying to and fro, and the orderly hospital was turned into pandemonium.
pep came hurriedly out of his place of hiding under the table to discover what was the matter, and soon heard the word boche.[78] every one was so angry that he decided the boche must have something to do with the thunderstorm, but just what he could not imagine.
he was trotting about after the captain growling softly to himself when a thunderbolt much louder than the rest exploded right in their midst. pep heard the sound of breaking glass all about him. some of the pieces stuck in his skin and the air was filled with a pungent liquid that drenched pep’s back.
he growled savagely, but his growls changed to yelps when the liquid began eating into his skin. with yelps of pain he fled from the dispensary, out into the open air. this did not help much, however, as the liquid still burned fiercely. all was excitement outside. the thunder had ceased but broken glass was everywhere, while in many places there were bricks and timbers and splintered boards thrown about in every direction.
finally an orderly noticed pep’s distress and examined him. he brought ointment and rubbed the dog’s back till the burning[79] almost ceased. but in the morning it was seen that he had lost a large patch of hair just back of his shoulders. this was his first wound at the hands of the boche, but not his last.
the terrible thunderstorm which pep had been through was a boche bombing expedition which had the base hospital as its mark.
so pep learned that there were devils in the deep and devils in the sky, and he knew from what was said about them that they were all boches.
after that night he growled louder than ever at the word boche.
one day about a week after the night bombing expedition pep’s master came into the dispensary. pep was lying under the table on his favorite rug, asleep, but he aroused himself at the familiar step.
“hello, old sport,” said the physician, tossing a stick of cinnamon candy under the table to the dog.
pep was very fond of candy, especially of cinnamon. his master, who was something of a joker, said it was because of the bark in it. the terrier wagged his tail in appreciation,[80] swallowed the candy after two or three crunches and came out to greet his master.
the doctor sat down heavily in the easy chair by the table and motioned for pep to come up into his lap. this was a privilege for special occasions and the dog complied with alacrity.
the doctor looked about the room wearily. he had just come off duty after eighteen hours, and was very tired. the large room was nearly empty, the only other occupant being a young man who sat at a typewriter clicking away for dear life at the other end of the room.
“it’s just you and i, pep,” said the man, running the dog’s silky ears through his fingers in a way the terrier loved. “we can have a good visit, pep. i’m lonesome, old chap. i want you to comfort me. i am thinking of the dear old home and the mistress. what do you suppose the little woman is doing to-day? i’ll bet you another stick of candy against three wags of your tail that she is thinking of us. i am sure of that, old sport.”
[81]the dog took the proffered candy gingerly in his teeth and then dropped it disdainfully on the floor. his master was incredulous, so stooped and picked up the candy and offered it again. pep was usually ravenous for candy but he again dropped it on the floor, then sat up very straight and looked hard into his master’s face. his ears were cocked. his expression was inquiring. there was something afoot, something in the wind that he did not like. no candy for him until his master smiled, or looked more cheerful.
the look that the dog fastened on his face was so intent that the master’s gaze fell before that of his inquisitor. he pulled the dog’s ear to distract him. but he would not be distracted. instead, he put his paws on the man’s shoulders, and looked fairly into his face. the man stooped down and kissed him on the top of the head.
“you are all i have to kiss now, pep,” he said. “i’d rather kiss you than some folks. i’m thinking of home, old chap.”
the dog heaved a deep sigh. he knew that his master was sad and he was a sort of[82] ?olian harp that always responded to his master’s moods with sympathetic chords.
“pep,” said the doctor sternly, “sit down in my lap and listen. i want to talk to you. i am going away.”
the dog sat on his haunches in the man’s lap and listened intently, his head on one side as though to catch each word, a sad, wistful look on his face.
the doctor had sometimes used that tone to him before when he was going away to new york for several days. then it had meant loneliness and dog heartache, so pep was rightfully depressed.
“i’m going away, pep. it is to the front. i am going where the wounded men come from and you must be a good dog and stay here and not run away. do you understand? you must be a good dog.”
pep knew the tone was that of reproof and admonishment, so he dropped his ears and looked very meek.
“the last time i left you, you ran away and made me lots of trouble. this time you must be good.”
[83]the dog wagged his tail and whimpered. he would be good.
the doctor felt of his collar. it was very heavy and studded with brass rivets. “it’s strong enough,” he said. “you can’t break that.” then he tried it to see if he could slip it over pep’s head. it was rather loose, so for luck he took it up a hole. “there, now i’ll get a good strong chain and i guess you’ll be all right. of course you’ll be lonesome and make a great fuss, but these are hard times for us all, and you will have to be a good soldier like the rest of us.”
pep had seen the doctor try his collar before when he was to be tied up. his freedom was very dear to him. he loved to roam about the hospital. they were going to tie him up. he crawled up and licked his master’s face eagerly and pleaded in his dog way.
“it isn’t any use, old chap. you have got to be tied up.”
sadly the terrier sank down in his master’s lap, a look of utter dejection on his face.
[84]the doctor laughed. “it isn’t as bad as that, old sport. if i come back we’ll have good times yet. if i don’t, i’ll tell them to send you home to the mistress. if i don’t come back, you take good care of the mistress.
“here come my orders, old chum,” said the physician, giving pep a final hug as an orderly came in and put a telegram in the surgeon’s hand. the doctor read the letter hurriedly and put it into his pocket.
he then brought a heavy dog chain and snapped it into pep’s collar and led him out of the dispensary to a storeroom where he sometimes slept at night. he fastened the chain securely to a staple in the wall and after giving pep a parting hug, departed hurriedly, unmindful of his whimpers and angry barks. half an hour later the doctor was on a train speeding away to the front, while pep sulked dolefully in the storeroom.
pep seemed to know instinctively that his master had gone for a long time. the doctor had left him several times before for half a day since they had been in france, but now it was different. that long confidential[85] talk in the dispensary and the affectionate hugs and lavish petting foretold to his dog mind a long separation.
that night pep howled so persistently that his friend, the captain, finally came into the storeroom and gave him a sound thrashing. after this he was silent except for occasional half stifled whimpers and sobs of grief. but though he seemed to take his hard fate stoically, he was not reconciled.
the captain led him each day on the leash into the dispensary and chained him to the leg of the table. he watched the movements of every one who came in and if any one spoke to him he at once told them in as plain language as a dog could use to unsnap his chain and let him go. but the captain warned each newcomer that pep was to be kept strictly on the chain until his master’s return.
in the daytime he was not so lonesome or unconsolable, but in the night he often lay awake whimpering for his master or working at his chain and collar trying to get loose. he would spend hours tugging at the chain,[86] pulling at the staple with his teeth, or trying to get at his collar, until he lay down utterly exhausted.
so it fared with pep for two weeks, until finally one night when he had tugged and strained even more violently than usual, one of the links in his chain which had been only partly welded broke and he was free.
free from the chain, but not free from the hospital. he knew well that if any one discovered that he was loose, he would be tied up again, so he crouched in a corner of the room behind a packing box and awaited his chance.
nurses often came to this storeroom in the night for supplies.
after about half an hour, the door opened quickly and some one came in hurriedly. the door was left half ajar, so pep slipped out and ran into the main corridor leading to the great quadrangle in front of the hospital. here he slipped behind a door and waited for the next door to open.
luck was with him. the telephone was constantly ringing, and soon nurses and doctors were hurrying to and fro. presently[87] he learned the reason why, for they began bringing in an endless procession of wounded men. the quadrangle was filled with ambulances.
he could hear the motors puffing away from his hiding place. when wounded and dying men are arriving faster than they can be cared for, men do not think much about dogs, so it was easy enough for pep to slip out through the quadrangle and into the boulevard. he brushed against the leg of his friend the captain, who did not even notice him.
once out on the broad street he turned his nose northward and galloped away like the wind.
something away to the northeast was calling, calling, calling. a mind and a soul that was stronger than his own dog mind was pulling him, pulling, pulling, pulling, so why should he not know which way to go?
this sense or instinct which some of the dumb animals have is called orientation. dogs and horses have it to a marked degree and homing pigeons and seals even more. thompson seton tells of how when hopelessly[88] lost in the rocky mountains a dozen miles from home his horse carried him straight to camp, when he gave him his head.
my own small dog, a clever beagle, has an almost uncanny sense of my whereabouts, a sense that transcends mind.
when i arise in the morning and go from my bedroom to the bathroom he may be playing with some other dogs twenty rods away, but as soon as i open my bedroom door, as though i had touched a hidden spring in his dog intellect, he will turn and gallop for the house and be whining at the front door to be let in when i come down stairs.
these lesser minds are to our stronger minds as filings to the magnet. we call and they come though no word is spoken and our command may only be expressed in a great longing.
so pep galloped and galloped and knew not why, only something was calling and calling and he could but obey. he did not need a map or a compass. his dog instinct supplied both.
the reason for his galloping was this.[89] his master, who was also his god, lay in a narrow gulch at the edge of the argonne forest, close to a little brook in a poplar thicket, shot through the hips and nearly dead from thirst and loss of blood.
