 |
"What can we use for the brassards and costumes?" said Kitty.
"Elise has an old red apron in the clothes-hamper that we can cut up for crosses," said Mrs. Walton, always ready for emergencies. "But now to your tents, every man of you, or you'll never be ready to get up in the morning."
It was hard to go to sleep in the midst of such strange surroundings, and more than once Lloyd started up, aroused by the hoot of an owl, or the thud of a bat against the side of the tent. Not until she reached out and laid her hand on the great St. Bernard stretched out beside her cot, did she settle herself comfortably to sleep. With the touch of his soft curls against her fingers, she was no longer afraid.
When the officers came into the camp next day, they found the children in the midst of their new game. It was some time before their attention was attracted to it, for the Colonel was one of the men who had followed General Walton on his long, hard Indian campaign, and there were many questions to be asked and answered, about mutual friends in the army.
Hero was not making a serious business of the game, but was entering into it as if it were a big frolic. He could not make believe as the boys could, who played at soldiering. But the old words of command, uttered, in the Little Colonel's high, excited voice, sent him bounding in the direction she pointed, and the prostrate forms he found scattered about the sham battle field, seemed to quicken his memory. Mrs. Walton presently called the officer's attention to the efforts Hero was making to recall his old lessons, and briefly outlined his history.
"I believe he would remember perfectly," said the Colonel, watching him with deep interest, "if we were to take him over to our camp, and try him among the regular uniformed soldiers. Of course our accoutrements are not the kind he has been accustomed to, but I think they would suggest them. At least the smell of powder would be familiar, and the guns and canteens and knapsacks might awaken something in his memory that would revive his entire training. I should like very much to make the experiment."
After some further conversation, Lloyd was called up to meet the officers, and it was agreed that Hero should be taken over to the camp for a trial on the day the sham battle was to take place.
"The day has not yet been definitely determined," said the Colonel, "but I'll send you word as soon as it is. By the way, my orderly was once a young French officer, and often talks of the French army. He'll welcome Hero like a long-lost brother, for he has a soft spot in his heart for anything connected with his motherland. Ill send him over either this evening or to-morrow."
That evening the orderly rode over to bring word that the sham battle would take place the following Thursday, and they were all invited to witness it. Hero's trial would take place immediately after the battle. While he stood talking to Mrs. Walton and Miss Allison, Lloyd and Kitty came running down the hill with Hero close behind them.
The orderly turned with an exclamation of admiration as the dog came toward him, and held out his hand with a friendly snap of the fingers. "Ah, old comrade," he called out in French, in a deep, hearty voice. "Come, give me a greeting! I, too, am from the motherland."
At sound of the familiar speech, the dog went forward, wagging his tail violently, as if he recognised an old acquaintance. Then he stopped and snuffed his boots in a puzzled manner, and looked up wistfully into the orderly's face. It was a stranger he gazed at, yet voice, speech, and appearance were like the man's who had trained him from a puppy, and he gave a wriggle of pleasure when the big hand came down on his head, and the deep voice spoke caressingly to him.
When the orderly mounted his horse. Hero would have followed had not the Little Colonel called him sharply, grieved and jealous that he should show such marked interest in a stranger. He turned back at her call, but stood in the road, looking after his new-found friend, till horse and rider disappeared down the bridle-path that led through the deep woods to the other camp.
CHAPTER XV.
THE SENTRY'S MISTAKE
Promptly on Thursday, at the time appointed, the orderly rode over to Camp Walton to escort the party back to the camp at Calkin's Cliff. The four boys led the way on their ponies; the rest piled into a great farm wagon filled with straw, that had been procured from one of the neighbouring farms for the occasion.
Hero followed obediently, when the Little Colonel ordered him to jump up beside her, but he turned longing eyes on the orderly, whom he had welcomed with strong marks of pleasure. It was only their second meeting, but Hero seemed to regard him as an old friend. He leaped up to lick his face, and bounded around him with quick, short barks of pleasure that, for the moment, gave Lloyd a jealous pang. She was hurt that Hero should show such an evident desire to follow him in preference to her.
"I don't see what makes Hero act so," she said to Mrs. Walton.
"The orderly certainly must bear a strong resemblance to some one whom Hero knew and loved in France," she replied. "You have owned him less than two months, and he has been away from France only a year, you must remember. Everything must seem strange to him here. He was not brought up to play with children, as many St. Bernards are.
"The other night, at the entertainment, I wondered many times what Hero must think of his strange surroundings. His life here is different in every way from all that he has been used to. A dog trained from puppyhood to the experiences of soldier life would naturally miss the excitement of camp as much as a soldier suddenly retired to the life of a private citizen."
"Oh, deah!" sighed Lloyd, "I wish he could talk. I'd ask him if he is unhappy. Are you homesick, old fellow?"
She took his great head between her little hands and looked earnestly into his eyes as she asked the question.
"Do you wish you were back in the French army, following the ambulances and hunting the wounded soldiahs? Seems to me you ought to like it so much bettah heah in Kentucky, with, nothing to do but play and eat and sleep, and be loved by everybody."
"But an army dog can't get away from his training any easier than a man," laughed the orderly, as he rode on beside the wagon. "It is a part of him. Hero is a good soldier, and no doubt feels a greater joy in obeying what he considers a call to duty, than in riding in the wagon at his ease, with the ladies."
"You know a great deal, perhaps, of this society for the training of ambulance dogs," said Mrs. Walton.
"Yes," he replied. "I am deeply interested in it. My brother at home keeps me informed of its movements, and has written me much of Herr Bungartz's methods. I think I shall have no difficulty in putting the dog through his manoeuvres, especially as he seems to recognise me and in some way connect me with his past life."
Fife and drum welcomed the party as they drove into camp, and the party were at once escorted to seats where they could watch the drill and the sham battle. It was a familiar scene to the General's little family, and to Miss Allison, who had visited more than one army post. But some of the girls put their fingers in their ears when the noise of the rapid firing began. Hero was greatly excited.
Soon after the noise of the sham battle ceased, the field was prepared for the dog's trial. Men were hidden behind logs, stretched out in ditches, and left lying as if dead, in the dense thicket that skirted one side of the field, for wounded animals, either men or beasts, instinctively crawl away to die under cover.
With hands almost trembling in their eagerness, Lloyd fastened the flask and shoulder-bags on the dog. He seemed to know that something unusual was expected of him, and wagged his tail so violently that he nearly upset the Little Colonel. He watched every movement of the orderly, who, with a Red Cross brassard on his arm, was acting as chief of the improvised ambulance corps.
"Will you give him the order, Miss Lloyd?" he asked, turning politely to the little girl. Lloyd had pictured this moment several times on the way over, thinking how proud she would be to stand up like a real Little Colonel and send her orders ringing over the field before the whole admiring regiment. But now that the moment had actually come, she blushed and shrank back, timidly. She was not sure that she could say the strange French words just as the Major had taught them to her, when such a crowd of soldiers were standing by to hear.
"Oh, you do it, please," she asked.
"If you will tell me the exact words he has been accustomed to hearing," answered the orderly.
Lloyd stammered them out, greatly embarrassed, feeling that her pronunciation must have grown quite faulty from lack of practice under the Major's careful training. The orderly repeated them in an undertone, then, turning to Hero, gave the order in a clear, deep voice, that seemed to thrill the dog with its familiar ring. Instantly at the sound he started out across the field. Not a thing that had been taught him in his long, careful training was forgotten.
The first man he found was lying in a ditch, apparently desperately wounded. Hero allowed him to help himself from his flask, and drag a bandage from the bags on his back. Then, standing with his hind feet in the ditch and his fore feet resting on the bank above him, he gave voice until the men by the ambulance heard him, and came toward him carrying a stretcher.
"Look at him!" exclaimed Mrs. Walton, who with the party and several of the officers had walked down to the hospital tent. "He knows he has done his duty well. Did you ever see a dog manifest such delight! He fairly wriggles with joy!"
The praise of the men bearing the stretcher, and especially of the orderly, seemed to send the dog into a transport of happiness. The second man lay far on the outskirts of the field, hidden by a thicket of hazel bushes. This time Hero's frantic barking brought no reply. The men acted as if deaf to his appeals of help, so in a few minutes, evidently thinking they were beyond the range of his voice, he picked up the man's cap in his mouth, and ran back at the top of his speed.
"Good dog!" said the orderly, taking the cap he dropped at his feet. "Go back now and lead the way."
"If that man had really been wounded, and had crawled under that thicket," said Colonel Wayne, "we never could have found him alone. Only the sense of smell could lead to such a hiding-place. The ambulance might have passed there a hundred times and never seen a trace of him."
The hunt went on for some time; before it closed, every man personating a killed or wounded soldier was located and carried to the hospital tent. When the tired dog was finally allowed to rest, he dropped down at the orderly's feet, panting.
"That, was certainly fine work," said the Colonel, stooping to pat Hero's sides. "I suppose nothing could induce you to give him up to the army?" he asked, turning to Lloyd.
"Oh, no, no, no!" cried Lloyd, as if alarmed at the suggestion, and pressing Hero's head protectingly against her shoulder. If she had been proud of him before, she was doubly proud of him now. He had won the admiration of the entire regiment. Never had he been so praised and petted. When Mrs. Walton called her party together for their homeward drive, it was plain to be seen that Hero was loath to leave the camp. A word from the orderly would have kept him, despite Lloyd's commands to jump up into the wagon.
As the boys rode on ahead again, Keith said, "It does seem too bad to force that dog into being a private citizen when he is a born soldier."
"Did you hear what Colonel Wayne told mamma as we left?" asked Ranald. "He told her that it was reported that some of the animals had escaped from the circus that was in Louisville yesterday, and that a panther and some other kind of a beast had been seen in these woods. He laughed and asked her if she didn't want him to send a guard over to our camp. Of course he was only joking, but when she saw that I had heard what he said, she told me not to tell the girls; not to even mention such a thing, or they'd be so frightened they'd want to break camp and go straight home."
"It would be fun to scare them," said Rob, "but you'd better believe I'll not say anything if there's any danger of having to go home sooner on account of it."
"We've got to go day after to-morrow anyhow," said Keith, gloomily. "I wish I could miss another week of school, but I know papa wouldn't let me, even if the camp didn't break up."
"Come on!" called Ranald, who had pushed on ahead. "Let's hurry back and have a good swim before supper."
Not satisfied with the excitement of the day, the girls were no sooner out of the wagon than some one started a wild game of prisoners' base. Then they played hide-and-seek among the rocks and trees around the waterfall, and while they were wiping their flushed faces, panting after the long run, Kitty proposed that they should have a candy pulling.
Dinah made the candy, but the girls pulled it, running a race to see whose would be the whitest in a given time. Their arms ached long before they were done. By the time the boys came stumbling up the hill from their long swim in the creek, it would be hard to say which group was most tired.
"I'm sure we'll all want to turn in early to-night," said Mrs. Walton at supper. Freddy was yawning widely, and Elise was almost asleep over her plate. "You are all tired."
"All but Hero," said Miss Allison, offering him a chicken bone. "He rested while the others played. You'd like to go through your game every day. Wouldn't you, old boy?"
There was no story-telling around the camp-fire that night. They gathered around it, even before the light died out in the sky. Ranald had his guitar and Allison her mandolin, and they thrummed accompaniments awhile for the others to sing. But a mighty yawn catching Margery in the middle of a verse, and Mrs. Walton discovering both Jamie and Freddy sound asleep on the rug beside her, she proposed that they all go to bed an hour earlier than usual.
The Little Captain vowed he was too sleepy to blow a single toot on his bugle, so they went to their tents without the usual sounding of taps. It was not long before every child was asleep, worn out by the day's hard play. Mrs. Walton lay awake sometime listening to the sounds outside the tent. The crackling of underbrush and rustle of dry leaves was familiar enough in the daytime, but they seemed strangely ominous now that the lights were out. She could not help thinking of what the Colonel had told her of the escaped panther. She imagined the panic it would make if it should suddenly appear in their midst. Then she thought of Hero's protecting presence, and, raising herself on her elbow, she looked across the tent to where she knew he lay asleep. At first she could not see even the ruff of white that made the collar around his tawny throat, for the moon had slipped behind a cloud, but as she raised herself on her elbow, and peered intently through the darkness, the faint misty light shone out again, and she saw Hero plainly, the Little Colonel's outstretched hand resting on his broad back. Then she lay down again, this time to sleep, and soon all the little camp was wrapped in the peace and rest of perfect silence.
Half an hour later Hero lifted his head from between his paws and listened. Something seemed calling him. He did not know what. Being only a dog, he could not analyse the thoughts passing through his brain. A restlessness seized him. He longed to be back among the familiar sights and sounds of soldier life. This little play camp, where children tried to make him romp continually, was not home. Locust was not home. This strange new country full of unfamiliar faces and foreign voices was not home. But the orderly's voice reminded him of it. Over there were bearded men and deep voices, and strong hands, guns, and the smell of powder; fife and drum, and canteens and knapsacks; things that he had seen daily in his soldier life.
Was it some call to duty that thrilled him, or only a homesick longing? As he listened with head up, there came ringing, clear and silvery through the night, the bugle notes from the other camp. At the first sound Hero was on his feet. He moved noiselessly toward the tent flap, only partially fastened, and flattening himself against the ground wriggled out.
And if he gave no thought to the little mistress, dreaming inside the tent, if he left without regret the life of ease and loving care to which she had brought him, it was not because he was ungrateful, but because he did not understand. To him his old life woke and called him in the bugle's blowing. To him duty did not mean soft cushions, and idle days, and the following of a happy-hearted child at play. It meant long marches and the guarding of ambulances and the rescue of the dead and dying. A true soldier's heart beat in the dog's shaggy body, and, obedient to his instinct and training, he answered the summons when it sounded. With long, swinging steps he set out in the direction of the bugle-call, taking the road through the woods that the wagon had travelled that day, and down which he had watched the orderly disappear. No, not deserting his duty, but, as he understood it, hurrying back, with faithful heart to the cause that had always claimed him.
Now and then the moon, coming out fitfully from, behind the clouds, shone on his great tawny body, touching the white curls of his ruff with a line of silver. Then he would be lost in darkness again. But he swung on unerringly, until he was almost in sight of the camp. A little farther on a sentry paced up and down the picket-line that ran along the edge of the woods. Hero travelled on toward him, the dry dead leaves rustling under his paws, and now and then a twig crackling with his weight.
The sentry paused and, listened, wondering what kind of an animal was coming toward him in the darkness.
"Halt! Who goes there?" he called, sharply. The moon, peeping out at that instant, seemed to magnify the size of the great creature in his path. He thought of the panther and the other wild beast, whatever it was, supposed to be roaming about in the woods. Then the moon disappeared as suddenly as it had lighted up the scene, and the big paws still pattered on toward him in the darkness, regardless of his repeated challenge.
As the underbrush crackled again with the weight of the great body now almost upon him, the sentry raised his rifle. A shot rang out, arousing the camp not yet fully settled to sleep. The echo bounded back from the startled hills, and rolled away over the peaceful farms and orchards, growing fainter and fainter, until only a whisper of it reached the white tent where the Little Colonel lay dreaming. Then the moon shone out again, and the sentry, going a few paces forward, looked down in horror at the silent form stretched out at his feet.
CHAPTER XVI
"TAPS"
The corporal of the guard went running in the direction of the shot, and here and there an inquiring head, was thrust out of a tent.
"Only a dog shot, sir," he was heard to call out in answer to some officer's question, as he passed back down the line. "Sentry took him for a wild beast escaped from the show."
Somebody laughed in reply, and the men who had been aroused by the noise turned over and went to sleep. They did not know that the corporal hurried on down to the guard-house, and that as a result of his report there was a hasty summons for the surgeon. They did not know that it was Hero whom the sentry bent over, gulping down a feeling in his throat that nearly choked him, as he saw the blood welling out of the dog's shaggy white breast, and slowly stiffening the silky hair of his beautiful yellow coat.
The surgeon knelt down beside the dog, and as the clouds hid the moon again, he turned the light of his lantern on the wound for a careful examination.
"That was a cracking good shot, Bently," he said. "He never knew what stopped him."
The sentry turned his head away. "I wouldn't have been the one to take that dog's life for anything in the world!" he exclaimed. "I'd pretty near as soon have killed a man. It never entered my head that any tame animal would come leaping out of the woods that way at this time of night. He loomed up nearly as big as a lion when the moon shone out on him. The next minute it was all dark again, and I heard his big soft feet come pattering through the leaves, straight on toward me. It flashed over me that it must be one of those escaped circus animals, so I just let loose and blazed away at him."
The surgeon stood up and looked down at the still form at his feet. "It's too bad," he said. "He was a grand old dog, the finest St. Bernard I ever saw. How that little girl loved him! It will just about break her heart when she finds out what's happened to him."
"Don't!" begged the sentry, huskily. "Don't say anything like that. I feel bad enough about it now, goodness knows, without your harrowing up my feelings, talking of the way she's going to feel."
As the surgeon started on, the sentry stopped him. "For heaven's sake, Mac, don't leave him lying there on the picket-line where I've got to see him every time I pass. Send somebody to take him away. I'm all unnerved. I feel as if I'd shot one of my own comrades."
The surgeon looked at him curiously and walked on. Nobody was sent to take the dog away, but a little while later the sentry was relieved from duty, and another soldier kept guard over the silent camp, pacing back and forth past the Red Cross Hero, sleeping his last sleep under the light of the sentinel stars.
Somebody draped a flag across him before the camp was astir next morning. "Well, why not?" the man asked when he was joked about paying so much attention to a dead dog. "Why not? He was a war dog, wasn't he? It's no more than his due. I was the man he found in the ditch yesterday. As far as his intention and good will went, he did as much to save me as if I had been really lying there a wounded soldier. When he came leaping down there into the ditch after me, licking my face in such a friendly fashion and holding still so that I could help myself to the flask and bandages, I thought how grateful a fellow would feel to him if he were really rescued by him that way. It was all make-believe to me, but it was dead earnest to the dog, and he did his part as faithfully as any soldier who ever wore a uniform."
"You're right," said a young lieutenant, sitting near. "If for no other reason than that he was in the service of the Red Cross, he has a right to the respect of every man that calls himself a soldier, no matter what flag he follows."
Later in the morning, when the orderly rode into the little picnic camp, the girls were away. They were down by the waterfall digging ferns and mosses to take home. "We are thinking of breaking up camp this afternoon," Mrs. Walton told him. "The weather looks so threatening that I have sent for the wagonette to come for us, and I was about to send over to your camp to see if Hero had wandered back there. He has not been seen since last night. He was lying by Lloyd's cot just before I went to sleep, but this morning he is nowhere to be found. Lloyd is distressed. I told her that probably the drill yesterday awakened all his love for the old life, and that he might have been drawn back to it. Was I right? Have you seen him?"
"Yes," said the orderly, hesitating. "I saw him, but I find it hard to tell you how and where, Mrs. Walton." He paused again, and then hurried on with the explanation, as if anxious to have it over as soon as possible.
"He was shot last night by mistake on the picket-line. The sentry is all broken up over it, poor fellow, and the whole camp regrets it more than I can tell. You see, after yesterday's performance we almost claimed the dog as one of us. Colonel Wayne has made me the bearer of his deepest regrets. He especially deplores the occurrence on account of the dog's little mistress, knowing what a great grief it will be to her. He wishes, if you think it will be any consolation to her, to give Hero a military funeral, and bury him with the honours due a brave soldier."
"I am sure that Lloyd will want that," said Mrs, Walton. "She will appreciate it deeply, when she understands what a mark of respect to Hero such an attention would be. Tell Colonel Wayne, please, that I gladly accept the offer in her behalf, and will send Ranald over later, to arrange for it."
The orderly rode away, and Mrs. Walton turned to her sister, exclaiming, "Poor little Lloyd! I confess I am not brave enough to face her grief when she first hears the news. You will have to tell her, Allison. You know her so much better than I. We might as well hurry the preparations for leaving. No one will care to stay a moment longer, now this has happened. It will cast a gloom over the entire party."
"Maybe it would be better not to tell her until after she gets home," suggested Miss Allison. She had soothed the childish griefs of nearly every child in the Valley, at some time or another, but she felt that this was the most serious one that had fallen to her lot to comfort.
"I'm sure it would be impossible to get Lloyd away from here without Hero, unless she knew," was the answer. "I heard her tell Kitty this morning that nobody could make her go without him. She said if he wasn't back by the time we were ready to start, we could go on without her, and she would hunt for him if it took all fall."
While they were still discussing it the boys came running back to camp much excited. They had met the orderly.
"Oh, the poor dog!" mourned Keith. "What a shame for the poor old fellow to be shot down that way. It seems almost as bad as if it had been one of us boys that was killed."
Ranald and Rob joined in with praise of his many lovable traits, talking of his death as if it were a lifelong friend they had lost; but Malcolm turned away with an anxious glance to the woods, where he could hear the laughing voices of the girls.
"Poor little Princess Winsome," he thought. "It will nearly break her heart," and he wished with all the earnestness of the real Sir Feal, that by some knightly service, no matter how hard, he could save his little friend from this sorrow.
The girls came strolling up, presently, so occupied with their spoils that no one noticed the boy's serious faces but Lloyd. The moment she caught Malcolm's sympathetic glance she was sure something had happened to Hero.
"Oh, what is it?" she began, the tears gathering in her eyes as she felt the unspoken, sympathy of the little group. Leaving Mrs. Walton to tell the other girls, Miss Allison drew Lloyd aside, saying as she led her down toward the spring, an arm around her waist, "I have a message for you, Lloyd, from Colonel Wayne. Let's go down to the rocks by ourselves."
A sympathetic silence fell on the little circle left behind as they heard Lloyd cry out, "Shot my dog? Shot Hero? Oh, he ought to be killed! How could he do such a cruel thing!"
"But he feels dreadfully about it," said Miss Allison. "The orderly said that, big, strong man though he was, the tears stood in his eyes when he saw what he had done, and he kept saying, 'I wouldn't have done it for the world.'"
Nearly all the girls were crying by this time, and Malcolm turned his head so that he could not see the fair little head pressed against Miss Allison's shoulder, as she clung to her sobbing.
"Think how it must have hurt poah Hero's feelin's," Lloyd was saying, "to go back to their camp so trustin' and happy, thinkin' the men would be so glad to see him, and that he was doin' his duty, and then to have one of them stand up and send a bullet through his deah, lovin' old heart. Oh, I can't beah it," she screamed. "Oh, I can't! I can't! It seems as if it would kill me to think of him lyin' ovah there all cold and stiff, with the blood on his lovely white and yellow curls, and know that he'll nevah, nevah again jump up to lick my hands, and put his paws on my shouldahs. He'll nevah come to meet me any moah, waggin' his tail and lookin' up into my face with his deah lovin' eyes. Oh, Miss Allison! I can't stand it! It's just breakin' my heart!" Burying her face in Miss Allison's lap, she sobbed and cried until her tears were all spent.
It was a subdued little party that rode back to the Valley, a few hours later. Not only sympathy for Lloyd kept them quiet, but each one mourned the loss of the gentle, lovable playfellow who had come to such an untimely end after this week of happy camp life with them.
* * * * *
Under the locusts that evening, just as the sun was going down, came the tread of many marching feet. It was the tramp, tramp of the soldiers who were bringing home the Little Colonel's Hero, All the men who had been most interested in his performances the day before, had volunteered to follow Colonel Wayne, and the long line made an imposing showing, as it stretched up the avenue after him.
Lloyd watched the approach from her seat on the porch beside her father. All the camping party were waiting with her, except the four boys who rode at the head of the procession, Ranald and Malcolm first, then Rob and Keith. Lloyd hid her eyes as Lad and Tarbaby came into view behind them.
"Look," said her father gently, pointing to the flag-draped burden they drew. "How much better it was for Hero to have been shot by a soldier and brought home with military honours, than to have met the fate of an ordinary dog—been poisoned, or mangled, by a train, as might have happened, or even died of a painful, feeble old age. The Major would have chosen this? so would Hero, if he could have understood."
There was more comfort in that thought than in anything that had been said to her before, and Lloyd wiped her eyes, and sat up to watch the ceremony that followed, with a feeling of pride that made her almost cheerful.
On they came to the beat of the muffled drum, halting under a great locust-tree that stood by itself on the lawn, in sight of the library windows, like a giant sentinel. There the boys dismounted to lower Hero into the grave that Walker and Alec had just finished digging. Then the coloured men, spreading the sod quickly back in place, stepped aside from the low mound they had made, and Lloyd saw that it was smooth and green. She started violently when the soldiers, drawn up in line, fired a parting volley over it, but sat quietly back again when the Little Captain stepped forward and raised his bugle. The sun was sinking low behind the locusts, and in the golden glow filling the western sky, he softly sounded taps. "Lights out" now for the faithful old Hero! The last bugle-call that sounded for him was in a foreign land, but it was not as a stranger and an alien they left him.
The flag he followed floats farther than the Stars and Stripes, waves wider than the banner of the Kaiser. It is a world-wide flag, that flag of perpetual peace which bears the Red Cross of Geneva. In its shadow, whether on land or sea, all patriot hearts are at home, and under that flag they left him.
* * * * *
A square white stone stands now under the locust where the Little Captain sounded taps at the close of that September day. On it gleams the Red Cross, in whose service all of Hero's lessons had been learned. But the daily sight of it from her bedroom window no longer brings pain to the Little Colonel. Hero is only a tender memory now, and she counts the Red Cross above him as another talisman, like the little ring and the silver scissors, to remind her that only through unselfish service to others can one reach the happiness that is highest and best.
Time flies fast under the locusts. Sometimes to Papa Jack it seems only yesterday that she clattered up and down the wide halls with her grandfather's spurs buckled to her tiny feet. But if he misses the charm of the baby voice that called to him then, or the childish mischievousness of his Little Colonel, he finds a greater one in the flower-like beauty of the tall, slender girl who stands beside the gilded harp, and sings to him softly in the candle-light. And it is Betty's song of service that is oftenest on her lips:
"My godmother bids me spin, That my heart may not be sad; Sing and spin for my brother's sake, And the spinning makes me glad."
She knows that she can never be a Joan of Arc or a Clara Barton, and her name will never be written in America's hall of fame, but with the sweet ambition in her heart to make life a little lovelier for every one she touches, she is growing up into a veritable Princess Winsome.
Often as she sings, Betty closes her book to listen, thrilled with the old feeling that always comes with the music of the harp. It is as if she were "away off from everything, and high up where it is wide and open, and where the stars are." The strange, beautiful thoughts she can find no words for still dance on ahead, like shining will-'o-the-wisps, but she knows that she shall surely find words for them some day, and that many besides the Little Colonel will sing her verses and find comfort in her songs.
To both Betty and Lloyd the land of Someday and the happy land of Now lie very close together in their day-dreams, as side by side they go to school these bright October mornings, or stroll slowly homeward in the golden afternoons, under the shade of the friendly old locusts.
THE END.
Selections from L.C. Page & Company's Books for Girls
* * * * *
THE BLUE BONNET SERIES
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A TEXAS BLUE BONNET BY CAROLINE E. JACOBS.
BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY BY CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND EDYTH ELLERBECK READ.
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BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE BY CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS.
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BLUE BONNET OF THE SEVEN STARS BY LELA HORN RICHARDS.
BLUE BONNET'S FAMILY BY LELA HORN RICHARDS.
"Blue Bonnet has the very finest kind of wholesome, honest, lively girlishness and cannot but make friends with every one who meets her through these books about her."—Chicago Inter-Ocean.
"Blue Bonnet and her companions are real girls, the kind that one would like to have in one's home."—New York Sun.
THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS
(Trade Mark)
BY ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON
Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume $2.00
THE LITTLE COLONEL STORIES
(Trade Mark)
Being three "Little Colonel" stories in the Cosy Corner Series, "The Little Colonel," "Two Little Knights of Kentucky," and "The Giant Scissors," in a single volume.
THE LITTLE COLONEL STORIES:
Second Series (Trade Mark)
Tales about characters that appear in the Little Colonel Series. "Ole Mammy's Torment," "The Three Tremonts," and "The Little Colonel in Switzerland."
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOUSE PARTY (Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOLIDAYS (Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HERO (Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL AT BOARDING SCHOOL (Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL IN ARIZONA (Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHRISTMAS VACATION (Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL, MAID OF HONOR (Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S KNIGHT COMES RIDING (Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHUM, MARY WARE (Trade Mark)
MARY WARE IN TEXAS
MARY WARE'S PROMISED LAND
These thirteen volumes, boxed as A SET, $26.00
FOR PIERRE'S SAKE AND OTHER STORIES
Cloth, 12mo, illustrated by Billie Chapman $1.75
"'For Pierre's Sake,' who works so hard to scrape together the pennies necessary for a wreath for his brother's grave, 'The Rain Maker,' who tries to bring rain to the drought stricken fields—these and many others will take their places in The Children's Hall of Fame, which exists in the heart of childhood."—Portsmouth (N.H.) Herald.
THE ROAD OF THE LOVING HEART
Cloth decorated, with special designs and illustrations $1.25
This story of a little princess and her faithful pet bear, who finally do discover "The Road of the Loving Heart," is a masterpiece of sympathy and understanding and beautiful thought.
THE JOHNSTON JEWEL SERIES
Each small 16mo, decorative boards, per volume $0.75
IN THE DESERT OF WAITING:
THE LEGEND OF CAMELBACK MOUNTAIN.
THE THREE WEAVERS:
A FAIRY TALE FOR FATHERS AND MOTHERS AS WELL AS FOR THEIR DAUGHTERS.
KEEPING TRYST:
A TALE OF KING ARTHUR'S TIME.
THE LEGEND OF THE BLEEDING HEART
THE RESCUE OF PRINCESS WINSOME:
A FAIRY PLAY FOR OLD AND YOUNG.
THE JESTER'S SWORD
* * * * *
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S GOOD TIMES BOOK
Uniform in size with the Little Colonel Series $2.50
Bound in white kid (morocco) and gold 6.00
Cover design and decorations by Peter Verberg.
"A mighty attractive volume in which the owner may record the good times she has on decorated pages, and under the directions as it were of Annie Fellows Johnston."—Buffalo Express.
* * * * *
HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES
BY LAURA E. RICHARDS
Eleven Volumes
The Hildegarde-Margaret Series, beginning with "Queen Hildegarde" and ending with "The Merryweathers," make one of the best and most popular series of books for girls ever written.
Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated per volume $1.75
The eleven volumes boxed as a set $19.25
LIST OF TITLES
QUEEN HILDEGARDE HILDEGARDE'S HOLIDAY HILDEGARDE'S HOME HILDEGARDE'S NEIGHBORS HILDEGARDE'S HARVEST THREE MARGARETS MARGARET MONTFORT PEGGY RITA FERNLEY HOUSE THE MERRYWEATHERS
* * * * *
HONOR BRIGHT SERIES
BY LAURA E. RICHARDS
Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.75
HONOR BRIGHT
"This is a story that rings as true and honest as the name of the young heroine—Honor—and not only the young girls, but the old ones will find much to admire and to commend in the beautiful character of Honor."—Constitution, Atlanta, Ga.
HONOR BRIGHT'S NEW ADVENTURE
"Girls will love the story and it has plot enough to interest the older reader as well."—St. Louis Daily Globe-Democrat.
* * * * *
SIX GIRLS
(60th thousand) BY FANNY BELLE IRVING.
Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated by A.G. Learned $1.65
No book has enjoyed a steadier and longer popularity than "Six Girls," written by a niece of Washington Irving. It has won its way by the best kind of advertising—personal recommendations among readers.
THREE HUNDRED THINGS A BRIGHT GIRL CAN DO
BY LILA ELIZABETH KELLEY.
Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated by the author $2.50
A complete treasury of suggestions on games, indoor and outdoor sports, handiwork, embroidery, sewing and cooking, scientific experiments, puzzles, candy-making, home decoration, physical culture, etc.
THE SECRET VALLEY
BY MRS. HOBART-HAMPDEN.
Cloth 12mo, illustrated, with color jacket $1.75
In addition to an excellent action story, young readers will find in this book descriptions of India, land of mystery, which are accurate and interesting.
SECRETS INSIDE
BY M.M. DANCY MCCLENDON.
Cloth, 12mo, illustrated by Dean Freeman $1.75
"This is a story about girls for girls. The author has made a worthwhile contribution to juvenile literature."—Rochester Sunday American.
* * * * *
THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES
600,000 volumes of the "Captain January" Series have already been sold.
"Mrs. Richards has made for herself a little niche apart in the literary world, from her delicate treatment of New England village life."—Boston Post.
CAPTAIN JANUARY. Star Bright Edition.
Profusely illustrated by Frank T. Merrill $1.75
STAR BRIGHT. A sequel to "Captain January."
Mrs. Richards' latest book uniform with above. $1.75
Wherein the Captain's little girl reaches the romantic period of her career, and faces the world.
The two volumes attractively boxed as a set. $3.50
* * * * *
The following titles are illustrated by Frank T. Merrill
CAPTAIN JANUARY. School Edition
(285th thousand) Net $1.00
MELODY. $1.00
The Story of a Child.
Cloth decorative, illustrated by Frank T. Merrill, each $.90
MARIE.
A companion to "Melody."
ROSIN THE BEAU.
A sequel to "Marie."
SNOW WHITE;
Or, The House in the Wood.
JIM OF HELLAS;
Or, in Durance Vile, and a companion story, "Bethesda Pool."
"SOME SAY."
And a companion story, "Neighbors in Cyrus."
NAUTILUS.
"'Nautilus' Is by far the best product of the author's powers."—Boston Globe.
ISLA HERON.
This interesting story is written in the author's usual charming manner.
* * * * *
BARBARA WINTHROP SERIES
BY HELEN KATHERINE BROUGHALL
Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $2.00
BARBARA WINTHROP AT BOARDING SCHOOL
BARBARA WINTHROP AT CAMP
BARBARA WINTHROP: GRADUATE
BARBARA WINTHROP ABROAD
"Full of adventure—initiations, joys, picnics, parties, tragedies, vacation and all. Just what girls like, books in which 'dreams come true,' entertaining 'gossipy' books overflowing with conversation."—Salt Lake City Deseret News.
High ideals and a real spirit of fun underlie the stories. They will be a decided addition to the bookshelves of the young girl for whom a holiday gift is contemplated.
* * * * *
DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL SERIES
BY MARION AMES TAGGART
Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume $1.75
THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL
"A charming story of the ups and downs of the life of a dear little maid."—The Churchman.
SWEET NANCY:
THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL.
"Just the sort of book to amuse, while its influence cannot but be elevating."—New York Sun.
NANCY, THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE PARTNER
"The story is sweet and fascinating, such as many girls of wholesome tastes will enjoy."—Springfield Union.
NANCY PORTER'S OPPORTUNITY
"Nancy shows throughout that she is a splendid young woman, with plenty of pluck."—Boston Globe.
NANCY AND THE COGGS TWINS
"The story is refreshing."—-New York Sun.
* * * * *
THE MARJORY-JOE SERIES
BY ALICE E. ALLEN
Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, per volume $1.50
JOE, THE CIRCUS BOY AND ROSEMARY
These are two of Miss Allen's earliest and most successful stories, combined in a single volume to meet the insistent demands from young people for these two particular tales.
THE MARTIE TWINS: Continuing the Adventures of Joe, the Circus Boy
"The chief charm of the story is that it contains so much of human nature. It is so real that it touches the heart strings."—-New York Standard.
MARJORY, THE CIRCUS GIRL
A sequel to "Joe, the Circus Boy," and "The Martie Twins."
MARJORY AT THE WILLOWS
Continuing the story of Marjory, the Circus Girl.
"Miss Allen does not write impossible stories, but delightfully pins her little folk right down to this life of ours, in which she ranges vigorously and delightfully."—Boston Ideas.
MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY: Or, What Happened at Clover Patch
"Miss Allen certainly knows how to please the children and tells them stories that never fail to charm."—Madison Courier.
MARJORY'S DISCOVERY
This new addition to the popular MARJORY-JOE SERIES is as lovable and original as any of the other creations of this writer of charming stories. We get little peeps at the precious twins, at the healthy minded Joe and sweet Marjory. There is a bungalow party, which lasts the entire summer, in which all of the characters of the previous MARJORY-JOE stories participate, and their happy times are delightfully depicted.
* * * * *
THE PEGGY RAYMOND SERIES
BY HARRIET LUMMIS SMITH
Each one volume, cloth, decorative, 12mo, illustrated, per volume $1.75
PEGGY RAYMOND'S SUCCESS: OR, THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLY TERRACE.
"It is a book that cheers, that inspires to higher thinking; it knits hearts; it unfolds neighborhood plans in a way that makes one tingle to try carrying them out, and most of all it proves that hi daily life, threads of wonderful issues are being woven in with what appears the most ordinary of material, but which in the end brings results stranger than the most thrilling fiction."—Belle Kellogg Towne in The Young People's Weekly, Chicago.
PEGGY RAYMOND'S VACATION
"It is a clean, wholesome, hearty story, well told and full of incident. It carries one through experiences that hearten and brighten the day."—Utica, N.Y., Observer.
PEGGY RAYMOND'S SCHOOL DAYS
"It is a bright, entertaining story, with happy girls, good times, natural development, and a gentle earnestness of general tone."—The Christian Register, Boston.
PEGGY RAYMOND'S FRIENDLY TERRACE QUARTETTE
"The story is told in easy and entertaining style and is a most delightful narrative, especially for young people. It will also make the older readers feel younger, for while reading it they will surely live again in the days of their youth."—Troy Budget.
PEGGY RAYMOND'S WAY
"The author has again produced a story that is replete with wholesome incidents and makes Peggy more lovable than ever as a companion and leader."—World of Books.
* * * * *
THE HADLEY HALL SERIES
BY LOUISE M. BREITENBACH
Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume $1.65
ALMA AT HADLEY HALL
"The author is to be congratulated on having written such an appealing book for girls."—Detroit Free Press.
ALMA'S SOPHOMORE YEAR
"It cannot fail to appeal to the lovers of good things in girls' books."—Boston Herald.
ALMA'S JUNIOR YEAR.
"The diverse characters in the boarding-school are strongly drawn, the Incidents are well developed and the action is never dull."—The Boston Herald.
ALMA'S SENIOR YEAR
"A healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every chapter."—Boston Transcript.
* * * * *
DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL SERIES
BY MARION AMES TAGGART
Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume $1.75
THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL
"A charming story of the ups and downs of the life of a dear little maid"—The Churchman.
SWEET NANCY: THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL.
"Just the sort of book to amuse, while its influence cannot but be elevating."—New York Sun.
NANCY, THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE PARTNER
"The story is sweet and fascinating, such as many girls of wholesome tastes will enjoy."—Springfield Union.
NANCY PORTER'S OPPORTUNITY
"Nancy shows throughout that she is a splendid young woman, with plenty of pluck."—Boston Globe.
NANCY AND THE COGGS TWINS
"The story is refreshing."—New York Sun.
* * * * *
STORIES BY EVALEEN STEIN
Each one volume, 12mo, illustrated $1.65
GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOK A LITTLE SHEPHERD OF PROVENCE THE CHRISTMAS PORRINGER THE LITTLE COUNT OF NORMANDY PEPIN: A Tale of Twelfth Night CHILDREN'S STORIES THE CIRCUS DWARF STORIES WHEN FAIRIES WERE FRIENDLY TROUBADOUR TALES
"No works in juvenile fiction contain so many of the elements that stir the hearts of children and grown-ups as well as do the stories so admirably told by this author."—Louisville Daily Courier.
"Evaleen Stein's stories are music in prose—they are like pearls on a chain of gold—each word seems exactly the right word in the right place; the stories sing themselves out, they are so beautifully expressed."—The Lafayette Leader.
* * * * *
Selections from L.C. Page & Company's Books for Boys
* * * * *
FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES
Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated by photographs, per volume ... $2.00
BY CHARLES H.L. JOHNSTON
("Uncle Chas.")
"If you see that it's by 'Uncle Chas,' you know that it's historically correct"—Review.
FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS FAMOUS SCOUTS FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN AND ADVENTURERS OF THE SEA FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN AND HEROES OF THE BORDER FAMOUS DISCOVERERS AND EXPLORERS OF AMERICA FAMOUS GENERALS OF THE GREAT WAR Who Led the United States and Her Allies to a Glorious Victory.
FAMOUS AMERICAN ATHLETES OF TODAY,
First Series.
Cloth 12mo, illustrated from specially autographed photographs $2.50
FAMOUS AMERICAN ATHLETES OF TODAY,
Second Series.
A companion volume to the above $2.50
FAMOUS AMERICAN ATHLETES OF TODAY,
Third Series.
By Trentwell M. White $2.50
FAMOUS AMERICAN ATHLETES OF TODAY,
Fourth Series.
By Charles H.L. Johnston $2.50
FAMOUS AMERICAN ATHLETES OF TODAY,
Fifth Series.
By Leroy Atkinson $2.50
The following except as otherwise noted $2.00
BY EDWIN WILDMAN
THE FOUNDERS OF AMERICA (Lives of Great Americans from the Revolution to the Monroe Doctrine)
THE BUILDERS OF AMERICA (Lives of Great Americans from the Monroe Doctrine to the Civil War)
FAMOUS LEADERS OF CHARACTER (Lives of Great Americans from the Civil War to Today)
FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY.—First Series
FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY.—Second Series
BY TRENTWELL M. WHITE
FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY.—Third Series $2.50
BY HARRY IRVING SHUMWAY
FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY.—Fourth Series $2.50
'These biographies drive home the truth that just as every soldier of Napoleon carried a marshal's baton in his knapsack, so every American youngster carries potential success under his hat.'
BY CHARLES LEE LEWIS
Professor, United States Naval Academy, Annapolis
FAMOUS AMERICAN NAVAL OFFICERS
With a complete index.
"In connection with the life of John Paul Jones, Stephen Decatur, and other famous naval officers, he groups the events of the period in which the officer distinguished himself, and combines the whole into a colorful and stirring narrative."—Boston Herald.
* * * * *
THE BOYS STORY OF THE RAILROAD SERIES
BY BURTON E. STEVENSON
Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.75
THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND;
OR, THE ADVENTURES OF ALLAN WEST
"The whole range of section railroading is covered in the story."—Chicago Post.
THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER
"A vivacious account of the varied and often hazardous nature of railroad life."—Congregationalist.
THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER
"It is a book that can be unreservedly commended to anyone who loves a good, wholesome, thrilling, informing yarn."—Passaic News.
THE YOUNG APPRENTICE;
OR, ALLAN WEST'S CHUM.
"The story is intensely interesting."—Baltimore Sun.
* * * * *
THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY SERIES
Of Worth While Classics for Boys and Girls
Revised and Edited for the Modern Reader
Each large 12mo, illustrated and with a poster jacket in full color $2.00
THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY
BY W.H. DAVENPORT ADAMS.
THE CHAPLET OF PEARLS
BY C.M. YONGE.
ERLING THE BOLD
BY R.M. BALLYNTYNE.
WINNING HIS KNIGHTHOOD;
OR, THE ADVENTURES OF RAOULF DE GYSSAGE.
BY H. TURING BRUCE.
"Tales which ring to the clanking of armour, tales of marches and counter-marches, tales of wars, but tales which bring peace; a peace and contentment in the knowledge that right, even in the darkest times, has survived and conquered."—Portland Evening Express.
* * * * *
THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES
BY HARRISON ADAMS
Each 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume $1.65
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE OHIO; OR, CLEARING THE WILDERNESS.
THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES; OR, ON THE TRAIL OF THE IROQUOIS.
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSISSIPPI; OR, THE HOMESTEAD IN THE WILDERNESS.
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI; OR, IN THE COUNTRY OF THE SIOUX.
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE YELLOWSTONE; OR, LOST IN THE LAND OF WONDERS.
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA; OR, IN THE WILDERNESS OF THE GREAT NORTHWEST.
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLORADO; OR, BRAVING THE PERILS OF THE GRAND CANYON COUNTRY.
THE PIONEER BOYS OF KANSAS; OR, PRAIRIE HOME IN BUFFALO LAND.
"Such books as these are an admirable means of stimulating among the young Americans of to-day interest in the story of their pioneer ancestors and the early days of the Republic."—Boston Globe.
"Not only interesting, but instructive as well and shows the sterling type of character which these days of self-reliance and trial produced."—American Tourist, Chicago.
"The stories are full of spirited action and contain much valuable historical information. Just the sort of reading a boy will enjoy immensely."—Boston Herald.
* * * * *
MINUTE BOY SERIES
By James Otis and Edward Stratemeyer
Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, fully illustrated, per volume $1.50
This series of books for boys needs no recommendation. We venture to say that there are few boys of any age in this broad land who do not know and love both these authors and their stirring tales.
These books, as shown by their titles, deal with periods in the history of the development of our great country which are of exceeding interest to every patriotic American boy—and girl. Places and personages of historical interest are here presented to the young reader in story form, and a great deal of real, information is unconsciously gathered.
THE MINUTE BOYS OF PHILADELPHIA THE MINUTE BOYS OF BOSTON THE MINUTE BOYS OF NEW YORK CITY THE MINUTE BOYS OF LONG ISLAND THE MINUTE BOYS OF SOUTH CAROLINA THE MINUTE BOYS OF THE WYOMING VALLEY THE MINUTE BOYS OF THE MOHAWK VALLEY THE MINUTE BOYS OF THE GREEN MOUNTAINS THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL THE MINUTE BOYS OF LEXINGTON THE MINUTE BOYS OF YORKTOWN
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