THE STORY OF THE RED CROSS AS TOLD TO THE LITTLE COLONEL =Works of= =ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON= =The Little Colonel Series= (_Trade Mark, Reg. U. S. Pat. Of. _) Each one vol. , large 12mo, cloth, illustrated The Little Colonel Stories $1. 50 (Containing in one volume the three stories, "The Little Colonel, " "The Giant Scissors, " and "Two Little Knights of Kentucky. ") The Little Colonel's House Party 1. 50 The Little Colonel's Holidays 1. 50 The Little Colonel's Hero 1. 50 The Little Colonel at Boarding School 1. 50 The Little Colonel in Arizona 1. 50 The Little Colonel's Christmas Vacation 1. 50 The Little Colonel: Maid of Honor 1. 50 The Little Colonel's Knight Comes Riding 1. 50 The Little Colonel's Chum: Mary Ware 1. 50 Mary Ware in Texas 1. 50 Mary Ware's Promised Land 1. 50 The above 12 vols. , _boxed_, as a set 18. 00 The Little Colonel Good Times Book 1. 50 The Little Colonel Doll Book--First Series 1. 50 The Little Colonel Doll Book--Second Series 1. 50 =Illustrated Holiday Editions= Each one vol. , small quarto, cloth, illustrated, and printedin color The Little Colonel $1. 35 The Giant Scissors 1. 35 Two Little Knights of Kentucky 1. 35 Big Brother 1. 35 =Cosy Corner Series= Each one vol. , thin 12mo, cloth, illustrated The Little Colonel $. 60 The Giant Scissors . 60 Two Little Knights of Kentucky . 60 Big Brother . 60 Ole Mammy's Torment . 60 The Story of Dago . 60 Cicely . 60 Aunt 'Liza's Hero . 60 The Quilt that Jack Built . 60 Flip's "Islands of Providence" . 60 Mildred's Inheritance . 60 The Little Man in Motley . 60 =Other Books= Joel: A Boy of Galilee $1. 50 In the Desert of Waiting . 60 The Three Weavers . 60 Keeping Tryst . 60 The Legend of the Bleeding Heart . 60 The Rescue of the Princess Winsome . 60 The Jester's Sword . 60 Asa Holmes 1. 25 Travelers Five Along Life's Highway 1. 25 =THE PAGE COMPANY==53 Beacon Street= =Boston, Mass. = [Illustration: "'Do you suppose that I could train my dogs to do that?'"(_See page 39_)] THE STORY OF THE RED CROSS _AS TOLD TO_ THE LITTLE COLONEL _By Annie Fellows Johnston_ AUTHOR OF "THE LITTLE COLONEL SERIES, ""ASA HOLMES, " "THE JEWEL SERIES, " ETC. _Illustrated by John Goss_ [Illustration] THE PAGE COMPANYBOSTON MDCCCCXVIII _Copyright, 1902_, BY THE PAGE COMPANY _Copyright, 1918_, BY THE PAGE COMPANY _All rights reserved_ First Impression, October, 1918 THE COLONIAL PRESSC. H. SIMONDS CO. , BOSTON, U. S. A. Publisher's Note This story in its original form appeared in =The Little Colonel's Hero=, the fourth volume in the famous =Little Colonel Series=. The publishers would have appropriately used on the cover of this bookthe Red Cross on a white field, adopted as its emblem by the Red CrossSociety, but any use of that emblem for purposes other than those ofthis society has been prohibited by law. The Red Cross Society adopted its emblem in honor of Switzerland, wherethe society originated, but reversed the colors of the Swiss flag, whichare a White Cross on a red field. It is consequently, under thecircumstances, appropriate that the cover design should show the WhiteCross of Switzerland, where the Red Cross Society originated, and whereits story was told to =The Little Colonel=. [Illustration: The LITTLE COLONEL] [Illustration: CONTENTS] CHAPTER PAGE I Lloyd Meets Hero 1 II Hero's Story 24 III The Red Cross of Geneva 44 IV Homeward Bound 69 V In After Years 82 [Illustration: The MAJOR] [Illustration: LIST of ILLUSTRATIONS] PAGE "'Do you suppose that I could train my dogs to do that?'" (_See page 39_) _Frontispiece_ "He stepped aside to let the great creature past him" 8 "But it did not stop their mad flight" 16 "He plunged out alone into the deep snow" 30 "The two were wandering along beside the water together" 62 "He fastened the medal to Hero's collar" 67 [Illustration: HERO] The Story of the Red Cross _as Told to_ The Little Colonel CHAPTER I LLOYD MEETS HERO It was in Switzerland in the old town of Geneva. The windows of the bighotel dining-room looked out on the lake, and the Little Colonel, sitting at breakfast the morning after their arrival, could scarcely eatfor watching the scene outside. Gay little pleasure boats flashed back and forth on the sparkling water. The quay and bridge were thronged with people. From open windows downthe street came the tinkle of pianos, and out on the pier, where aparty of tourists were crowding on to one of the excursion steamers, aband was playing its merriest holiday music. Far away in the distance she could see the shining snow crown of MontBlanc, and it gave her an odd feeling, as if she were living in ageography lesson, to know that she was bounded on one side by the famousAlpine mountain, and on the other by the River Rhône, whose source shehad often traced on the map. The sunshine, the music, and the gay crowdsmade it seem to Lloyd as if the whole world were out for a holiday, andshe ate her melon and listened to the plans for the day with thesensation that something very delightful was about to happen. "We'll go shopping this morning, " said Mrs. Sherman. "I want Lloyd tosee some of those wonderful music boxes they make here; the dancingbears, and the musical hand-mirrors; the chairs that play when you sitdown in them, and the beer-mugs that begin a tune when you lift themup. " Lloyd's face dimpled with pleasure, and she began to ask eagerquestions. "Could we take one to Mom Beck, mothah? A lookin'-glass thatwould play 'Kingdom Comin', ' when she picked it up? It would surpriseher so she would think it was bewitched, and she'd shriek the way shedoes when a cattapillah gets on her. " Lloyd laughed so heartily at the recollection, that an old gentlemansitting at an opposite table smiled in sympathy. He had been watchingthe child ever since she came into the dining-room, interested in everylook and gesture. He was a dignified old soldier, tall andbroad-shouldered, with gray hair and a fierce-looking gray moustachedrooping heavily over his mouth. But the eyes under his shaggy browswere so kind and gentle that the shyest child or the sorriest waif of astray dog would claim him for a friend at first glance. The Little Colonel was so busy watching the scene from the window thatshe did not see him until he had finished his breakfast and rose fromthe table. As he came toward them on his way to the door, she whispered, "Look, mothah! He has only one arm, like grandfathah. I wondah if hewas a soldiah, too. Why is he bowing to Papa Jack?" "I met him last night in the office, " explained her father, when the oldgentleman had passed out of hearing. "We got into conversation over thedog he had with him--a magnificent St. Bernard, that had been trained asa war dog, to go out with the ambulances to hunt for dead and woundedsoldiers. Major Pierre de Vaux is the old man's name. The clerk told methat when the Major lost his arm, he was decorated for some act ofbravery. He is well known here in Geneva, where he comes every summerfor a few weeks. " "Oh, I hope I'll see the war dog!" cried the Little Colonel. "What doyou suppose his name is?" The waiter, who was changing their plates, could not resist thistemptation to show off the little English he knew. "Hes name is _Hero_, mademoiselle, " he answered. "He vair smart dog. He know _evair_ singsomebody say to him, same as a person. " "You'll probably see him as we go out to the carriage, " said Mr. Sherman. "He follows the Major constantly. " As soon as breakfast was over, Mrs. Sherman went up to her room for herhat. Lloyd, who had worn hers down to breakfast, wandered out into thehall to wait for her. There was a tall, carved chair standing near theelevator, and Lloyd climbed into it. To her great confusion, somethinginside of it gave a loud click as she seated herself, and began toplay. It played so loudly that Lloyd was both startled and embarrassed. It seemed to her that every one in the hotel must hear the noise, andknow that she had started it. "Silly old thing!" she muttered, as with a very red face she slippeddown and walked hurriedly away. She intended to go into thereading-room, but in her confusion turned to the left instead of theright, and ran against some one coming out of the hotel office. It wasthe Major. "Oh, I beg your pahdon!" she cried, blushing still more. From thetwinkle in his eye she was sure that he had witnessed her mortifyingencounter with the musical chair. But his first words made her forgether embarrassment. He spoke in the best of English, but with a slightaccent that Lloyd thought very odd and charming. "Ah, it is Mr. Sherman's little daughter. He told me last night that youhad come to Switzerland because it was a land of heroes, and he was surethat you would be especially interested in mine. So come, Hero, my bravefellow, and be presented to the little American lady. Give her your paw, sir!" He stepped aside to let the great creature past him, and Lloyd utteredan exclamation of delight, he was so unusually large and beautiful. Hiscurly coat of tawny yellow was as soft as silk, and a great ruff ofwhite circled his neck like a collar. His breast was white, too, and hispaws, and his eyes had a wistful, human look that went straight toLloyd's heart. She shook the offered paw, and then impulsively threw herarms around his neck, exclaiming, "Oh, you deah old fellow! I can't helplovin' you. You're the beautifulest dog I evah saw!" [Illustration: "HE STEPPED ASIDE TO LET THE GREAT CREATURE PAST HIM"] He understood the caress, if not the words, for he reached up to touchher cheek with his tongue, and wagged his tail as if he were welcoming along-lost friend. Just then Mrs. Sherman stepped out of the elevator. "Good-bye, Hero, " said the Little Colonel. "I must go now, but I hopeI'll see you when I come back. " Nodding good-bye to the Major, shefollowed her mother out to the street, where her father stood waitingbeside an open carriage. Lloyd enjoyed the drive that morning as they spun along beside theriver, up and down the strange streets with the queer foreign signs overthe shop doors. Once, as they drove along the quay, they met the Majorand the dog, and in response to a courtly bow, the Little Colonel wavedher hand and smiled. The empty sleeve recalled her grandfather, and gaveher a friendly feeling for the old soldier. She looked back at Hero aslong as she could see a glimpse of his white and yellow curls. It was nearly noon when they stopped at a place where Mrs. Shermanwanted to leave an enamelled belt-buckle to be repaired. Lloyd was notinterested in the show-cases, and could not understand the conversationher father and mother were having with the shopkeeper about enamelling. So, saying that she would go out and sit in the carriage until they wereready to come, she slipped away. She liked to watch the stir of the streets. It was interesting to guesswhat the foreign signs meant, and to listen to the strange speech aroundher. Besides, there was a band playing somewhere down the street, andchildren were tugging at their nurses' hands to hurry them along. Somecarried dolls dressed in the quaint costumes of Swiss peasants, and somehad balloons. A man with a bunch of them like a cluster of great redbubbles had just sold out on the corner. So she sat in the sunshine, looking around her with eager, interestedeyes. The coachman, high up on his box, seemed as interested asherself; at least, he sat up very straight and stiff. But it was onlyhis back that Lloyd saw. He had been at a fête the night before. Thereseems to be always a holiday in Geneva. He had stayed long at themerrymaking and had taken many mugs of beer. They made him drowsy andstupid. The American gentleman and his wife stayed long in theenameller's shop. He could scarcely keep his eyes open. Presently, although he never moved a muscle of his back and sat up stiff andstraight as a poker, he was sound asleep, and the reins in his graspslipped lower and lower and lower. The horse was an old one, stiffened and jaded by much hard travel, butit had been a mettlesome one in its younger days, with the recollectionof many exciting adventures. Now, although it seemed half asleep, dreaming, maybe, of the many jaunts it had taken with other Americantourists, or wondering if it were not time for it to have its noondaynosebag, it was really keeping one eye open, nervously watching somepainters on the sidewalk. They were putting up a scaffold against abuilding, in order that they might paint the cornice. Presently the very thing happened that the old horse had been expecting. A heavy board fell from the scaffold with a crash, knocking over aladder, which fell into the street in front of the frightened animal. Now the old horse had been in several runaways. Once it had been hurtby a falling ladder, and it had never recovered from its fear of one. Asthis one fell just under its nose, all the old fright and pain thatcaused its first runaway seemed to come back to its memory. In a frenzyof terror it reared, plunged forward, then suddenly turned and dasheddown the street. The plunge and sudden turn threw the sleeping coachman from the box tothe street. With the lines dragging at its heels, the frightened horsesped on. The Little Colonel, clutching frantically at the seat in frontof her, screamed at the horse to stop. She had been used to driving eversince she was big enough to grasp the reins, and she felt that if shecould only reach the dragging lines, she could control the horse. Butthat was impossible. All she could do was to cling to the seat as thecarriage whirled dizzily around corners, and wonder how many morefrightful turns it would make before she should be thrown out. The white houses on either side seemed racing-past them. Nurses ran, screaming, to the pavements, dragging the baby-carriages out of the way. Dogs barked and teams were jerked hastily aside. Some one dashed out ofa shop and threw his arms up in front of the horse to stop it, but, veering to one side, it only plunged on the faster. Lloyd's hat blew off. Her face turned white with a sickening dread, andher breath began to come in frightened sobs. On and on they went, and, as the scenes of a lifetime will be crowded into a moment in the memoryof a drowning man, so a thousand things came flashing into Lloyd's mind. She saw the locust avenue all white and sweet in blossom time, andthought, with a strange thrill of self-pity, that she would never rideunder its white arch again. Then came her mother's face, and PapaJack's. In a few moments, she told herself, they would be picking up herpoor, broken, lifeless little body from the street. How horribly theywould feel. And then--she screamed and shut her eyes. The carriage haddashed into something that tore off a wheel. There was a crash--a soundas of splintering wood. But it did not stop their mad flight. With ahorrible bumping motion that nearly threw her from the carriage atevery jolt, they still kept on. [Illustration: "BUT IT DID NOT STOP THEIR MAD FLIGHT"] They were on the quay now. The noon sun on the water flashed into hereyes like the blinding light thrown back from a looking-glass. Thensomething white and yellow darted from the crowd on the pavement, andcatching the horse by the bit, swung on heavily. The horse dragged alongfor a few paces, and came to a halt, trembling like a leaf. A wild hurrah went up from both sides of the street, and the LittleColonel, as she was lifted out white and trembling, saw that it was ahuge St. Bernard that the crowd was cheering. "Oh, it's H-Hero!" she cried, with chattering teeth. "How did he gethere?" But no one understood her question. The faces she looked into, while beaming with friendly interest, were all foreign. The eagerexclamations on all sides were uttered in a foreign tongue. There was noone to take her home, and in her fright she could not remember the nameof their hotel. But in the midst of her confusion a hearty sentence inEnglish sounded in her ear, and a strong arm caught her up in a fatherlyembrace. It was the Major who came pushing through the crowd to reachher. Her grandfather himself could not have been more welcome just atthat time, and her tears came fast when she found herself in hisfriendly shelter. The shock had been a terrible one. "Come, dear child!" he exclaimed, gently, patting her shoulder. "Courage! We are almost at the hotel. See, it is on the corner, there. Your father and mother will soon be here. " Wiping her eyes, he led her across the street, explaining as he went howit happened that he and the dog were on the street when she passed. Theyhad been in the gardens all morning and were going home to lunch, whenthey heard the clatter of the runaway far down the street. The Majorcould not see who was in the carriage, only that it appeared to be achild. He was too old a man, and with his one arm too helpless toattempt to stop it, but he remembered that Hero had once shared thetraining of some collies for police service, before it had been decidedto use him as an ambulance dog. They were taught to spring at thebridles of escaping horses. "I was doubtful if Hero remembered those early lessons, " said the Major, "but I called out to him sharply, for the love of heaven to stop it ifhe could, and that instant he was at the horse's head, hanging on withall his might. Bravo, old fellow!" he continued, turning to the dog ashe spoke. "We are proud of you this day!" They were in the corridor of the hotel now, and the Little Colonel, kneeling beside Hero and putting her arms around his neck, finished hersobbing with her fair little face laid fondly against his silky coat. "Oh, you deah, deah old Hero, " she said. "You saved me, and I'll loveyou fo' evah and evah!" The crowd was still in front of the hotel, and the corridor full ofexcited servants and guests, when Mr. And Mrs. Sherman hurried in. Theyhad taken the first carriage they could hail and driven as fast aspossible in the wake of the runaway. Mrs. Sherman was trembling soviolently that she could scarcely stand, when they reached the hotel. The clerk who ran out to assure them of the Little Colonel's safety wasloud in his praises of the faithful St. Bernard. Hero had known many masters. He had been taught to obey many voices. Many hands had fed and fondled him, but no hand had ever lain quite sotenderly on his head, as the Little Colonel's. No one had ever lookedinto his eyes so gratefully as she, and no voice had ever thrilled himwith as loving tones as hers, as she knelt there beside him, calling himall the fond endearing names she knew. He understood far better than ifhe had been human, that she loved him. Eagerly licking her hands andwagging his tail, he told her as plainly as a dog can talk thathenceforth he would be one of her best and most faithful of friends. If petting and praise and devoted attention could spoil a dog, Hero'shead would certainly have been turned that day, for friends andstrangers alike made much of him. A photographer came to take hispicture for the leading daily paper. Before nightfall his story wasrepeated in every home in Geneva. No servant in the hotel but took apersonal pride in him or watched his chance to give him a sly sweetmeator a caress. But being a dog instead of a human, the attention only madehim the more lovable, for it made him feel that it was a kind world helived in and everybody was his friend. CHAPTER II HERO'S STORY Late that afternoon the Major sat out in the shady courtyard of thehotel, where vines, potted plants, and a fountain made a cool greengarden spot. He was thinking of his little daughter, who had been deadmany long years. The American child, whom his dog had rescued from therunaway in the morning, was wonderfully like her. She had the same fairhair, he thought, that had been his little Christine's great beauty; thesame delicate, wild-rose pink in her cheeks, the same mischievous smiledimpling her laughing face. But Christine's eyes had not been a starryhazel like the Little Colonel's. They were blue as the flax-flowers sheused to gather--thirty, was it? No, forty years ago. As he counted the years, the thought came to him like a pain that he wasan old, old man now, all alone in the world, save for a dog, and a niecewhom he scarcely knew and seldom saw. As he sat there with his head bowed down, dreaming over his past, theLittle Colonel came out into the courtyard. She had dressed early andgone down to the reading-room to wait until her mother was ready fordinner, but catching sight of the Major through the long glass doors, she laid down her book. The lonely expression of his furrowed face, thebowed head, and the empty sleeve appealed to her strongly. "I believe I'll go out and talk to him, " she thought. "If grandfathahwere away off in a strange land by himself like that, I'd want somebodyto cheer him up. " It is always good to feel that one is welcome, and Lloyd was glad thatshe had ventured into the courtyard, when she saw the smile that lightedthe Major's face at sight of her, and when the dog, rising at herapproach, came forward joyfully wagging his tail. The conversation was easy to begin, with Hero for a subject. There weremany things she wanted to know about him: how he happened to belong tothe Major; what country he came from; why he was called a St. Bernard, and if the Major had ever owned any other dogs. After a few questions it all came about as she had hoped it would. Theold man settled himself back in his chair, thought a moment, and thenbegan at the first of his acquaintance with St. Bernard dogs, as if hewere reading a story from a book. "Away up in the Alpine Mountains, too high for trees to grow, wherethere is only bare rock and snow and cutting winds, climbs the road thatis known as the Great St. Bernard Pass. It is an old, old road. TheCelts crossed it when they invaded Italy. The Roman legions crossed itwhen they marched out to subdue Gaul and Germany. Ten hundred years agothe Saracen robbers hid among its rocks to waylay unfortunatetravellers. You will read about all that in your history sometime, andabout the famous march Napoleon made across it on his way to Marengo. But the most interesting fact about the road to me, is that for overseven hundred years there has been a monastery high up on the bleakmountain-top, called the monastery of St. Bernard. "Once, when I was travelling through the Alps, I stopped there one coldnight, almost frozen. The good monks welcomed me to their hospice, asthey do all strangers who stop for food and shelter, and treated me askindly as if I had been a brother. In the morning one of them took meout to the kennels, and showed me the dogs that are trained to look fortravellers in the snow. You may imagine with what pleasure I followedhim, and listened to the tales he told me. "He said there is not as much work for the dogs now as there used to beyears ago. Since the hospice has been connected with the valley towns bytelephone, travellers can inquire about the state of the weather and thepaths, before venturing up the dangerous mountain passes. Still, thestorms begin with little warning sometimes, and wayfarers are overtakenby them and lost in the blinding snowfall. The paths fill suddenly, andbut for the dogs many would perish. " "Oh, I know, " interrupted Lloyd, eagerly. "There is a story about themin my old third readah, and a pictuah of a big St. Bernard dog with aflask tied around his neck, and a child on his back. " "Yes, " answered the Major, "it is quite probable that that was a pictureof the dog they call Barry. He was with the good monks for twelve years, and in that time saved the lives of forty travellers. There is amonument erected to him in Paris in the cemetery for dogs. The sculptorcarved that picture into the stone, the noble animal with a child on hisback, as if he were in the act of carrying it to the hospice. Twelveyears is a long time for a dog to suffer such hardship and exposure. Night after night he plunged out alone into the deep snow and thedarkness, barking at the top of his voice to attract the attention oflost travellers. Many a time he dropped into the drifts exhausted;with scarcely enough strength left to drag himself back to the hospice. [Illustration: "HE PLUNGED OUT ALONE INTO THE DEEP SNOW"] "Forty lives saved is a good record. You may be sure that in his old ageBarry was tenderly cared for. The monks gave him a pension and sent himto Berne, where the climate is much warmer. When he died, a taxidermistpreserved his skin, and he was placed in the museum at Berne, where hestands to this day, I am told, with the little flask around his neck. Isaw him there one time, and although Barry was only a dog, I stood withuncovered head before him. For he was as truly a hero and served humankind as nobly as if he had fallen on the field of battle. "He had been trained like a soldier to his duty, and no matter how thestorms raged on the mountains, how dark the night, or how dangerous thepaths that led along the slippery precipices, at the word of command hesprang to obey. Only a dumb beast, some people would call him, guidedonly by brute instinct, but in his shaggy old body beat a loving heart, loyal to his master's command, and faithful to his duty. "As I stood there gazing into the kind old face, I thought of the timewhen I lay wounded on the field of battle. How glad I would have been tohave seen some dog like Barry come bounding to my aid! I had fallen in athicket, where the ambulance corps did not discover me until next day. Ilay there all that black night, wild with pain, groaning for water. Icould see the lanterns of the ambulances as they moved about searchingfor the wounded among the many dead, but was too faint from loss ofblood to raise my head and shout for help. They told me afterward that, if my wound could have received immediate attention, perhaps my armmight have been saved. "But only a keen sense of smell could have traced me in the densethicket where I lay. No one had thought of training dogs for ambulanceservice then. The men did their best, but they were only men, and I wasoverlooked until it was too late to save my arm. "Well, as I said, I stood and looked at Barry, wondering if it were notpossible to train dogs for rescue work on battle-fields as well as inmountain passes. The more I thought of it, the more my longing grew tomake such an attempt. I read everything I could find about trained dogs, visited kennels where collies and other intelligent sheep-dogs werekept, and corresponded with many people about it. Finally I went toCoblenz, and there found a man who was as much interested in the subjectas I. Herr Bungartz is his name. He is now at the head of a society towhich I belong, called the German Society for Ambulance Dogs. It hasover a thousand members, including many princes and generals. "We furnish the money that supports the kennels, and the dogs are bredand trained free for the army. Now for the last eight years it has beenmy greatest pleasure to visit the kennels, where as many as fifty dogsare kept constantly in training. It was on my last visit that I gotHero. His leg had been hurt in some accident on the training field. Itwas thought that he was too much disabled to ever do good service again, so they allowed me to take him. Two old cripples, I suppose they thoughtwe were, comrades in misfortune. "That was nearly a year ago. I took him to an eminent surgeon, told himhis history, and interested him in his case. He treated him sosuccessfully, that now, as you see, the leg is entirely well. SometimesI feel that it is my duty to give him back to the service, although Ipaid for the rearing of a fine Scotch collie in his stead. He is sounusually intelligent and well trained. But it would be hard to partwith such a good friend. Although I have had him less than a year, heseems very much attached to me, and I have grown more fond of him than Iwould have believed possible. I am an old man now, and I think heunderstands that he is all I have. Good Hero! He knows he is a comfortto his old master!" At the sound of his name, uttered in a sad voice, the great dog got upand laid his head on the Major's knee, looking wistfully into his face. "Of co'se you oughtn't to give him back!" cried the Little Colonel. "Ifhe were mine, I wouldn't give him up for the president, or the emperor, or the czar, or _anybody_!" "But for the soldiers, the poor wounded soldiers!" suggested the Major. Lloyd hesitated, looking from the dog to the empty sleeve above it. "Well, " she declared, at last, "I wouldn't give him up while the countryis at peace. I'd wait till the last minute, until there was goin' to bean awful battle, and then I'd make them promise to let me have him againwhen the wah was ovah. Just the minute it was ovah. It would be likegivin' away part of your family to give away Hero. " Suddenly the Major spoke to the dog--a quick, sharp sentence that Lloydcould not understand. But Hero, without an instant's hesitation, bounded from the courtyard, where they sat, into the hall of the hotel. Through the glass doors she could see him leaping up the stairs, and, almost before the Major could explain that he had sent him for theshoulder-bags he wore in service, the dog was back with them graspedfirmly in his mouth. "Now the flask, " said the Major. While the dog obeyed the second order, he opened the bags for Lloyd to examine them. They were marked with ared cross in a square of white, and contained rolls of bandages, fromwhich any man, able to use his arms, could help himself until hisrescuer brought further aid. The flask which Hero brought was marked in the same way, and the Majorbuckled it to his collar, saying, as he fastened first that and thenthe shoulder-bags in place, "When a dog is in training, soldiers, pretending to be dead or wounded, are hidden in the woods or ravines andhe is taught to find a fallen body, and to bark loudly. If the soldieris in some place too remote for his voice to bring aid, the dog seizes acap, a handkerchief, or a belt, --any article of the man's clothing whichhe can pick up, --and dashes back to the nearest ambulance. " "What a lovely game that would make!" exclaimed Lloyd. "Do you supposethat I could train my dogs to do that? We often play soldiah at Locust. Now, what is it you say to Hero when you want him to hunt the men? Letme see if he'll mind me. " The Major repeated the command. "But I can't speak French, " she said, in dismay. "What is it inEnglish?" "Hero can't understand English, " said the Major, laughing at theperplexed expression that crept into the Little Colonel's face. "How funny!" she exclaimed. "I nevah thought of that befo'. I supposedof co'se that all animals were English. Anyway, Hero comes when I callhim, and wags his tail when I speak, just as if he undahstands everyword. " "It is the kindness in your voice he understands, and the smile in youreyes, the affection in your caress. That language is the same the worldover, to men and animals alike. But he never would start out to hunt thewounded soldiers unless you gave this command. Let me hear if you cansay it after me. " Lloyd tripped over some of the syllables as she repeated the sentence, but tried it again and again until the Major cried "Bravo! You shallhave more lessons, until you can give the command so well that Heroshall obey you as he does me. " Then he began talking of Christine, her fair hair, her blue eyes, herplayful ways; and Lloyd, listening, drew him on with many questions. Suddenly the Major arose, bowing courteously, for Mrs. Sherman, seeingthem from the doorway, had smiled and started toward them. Springing up, Lloyd ran to meet her. "Mothah, " she whispered, "please ask the Majah to sit at ou' tabletonight at dinnah. He's such a deah old man, and tells such interestin'things, and he's lonesome. The tears came into his eyes when he talkedabout his little daughtah. She was just my age when she died, mothah, and he thinks she looked like me. " The Major's courtly manner and kind face had already aroused Mrs. Sherman's interest. His empty sleeve reminded her of her father. Hisloneliness appealed to her sympathy, and his kindness to her littledaughter had won her deepest appreciation. She turned with a cordialsmile to repeat Lloyd's invitation, which was gladly accepted. That was the beginning of a warm friendship. From that time he wasincluded in their plans. Now, in nearly all their excursions and drives, there were four in the party instead of three, and five, very often. Whenever it was possible, Hero was with them. He and the Little Coloneloften went out together alone. It grew to be a familiar sight in thetown, the graceful fair-haired child and the big tawny St. Bernard, walking side by side along the quay. She was not afraid to ventureanywhere with such a guard. As for Hero, he followed her as gladly as hedid his master. CHAPTER III THE RED CROSS OF GENEVA A week after the runaway, the handsomest collar that could be bought intown was fastened around Hero's neck. It had taken a long time to getit, for Mr. Sherman went to many shops before he found material that heconsidered good enough for the rescuer of his little daughter. Then thejeweller had to keep it several days while he engraved an inscription onthe gold name-plate--an inscription that all who read might know whathappened on a certain July day in the old Swiss town of Geneva. On theunder side of the collar was a stout link like the one on his old one, to which the flask could be fastened when he was harnessed for service, and on the upper side, finely wrought in enamel, was a red cross on awhite square. "Papa Jack!" exclaimed Lloyd, examining it with interest, "that is thesame design that is on his blanket and shouldah-bags. Why, it's justlike the Swiss flag!" she cried, looking out at the banner floating fromthe pier. "Only the colors are turned around. The flag has a white crosson a red ground, and this is a red cross on a white ground. Why did youhave it put on the collah, Papa Jack?" "Because he is a Red Cross dog, " answered her father. "No, Papa Jack. Excuse me for contradictin', but the Majah said he was aSt. Bernard dog. " Mr. Sherman laughed, but before he could explain he was called to theoffice to answer a telegram. When he returned Lloyd had disappeared tofind the Major, and ask about the symbol on the collar. She found him inhis favorite seat near the fountain, in the shady courtyard. Perching ona bench near by with Hero for a foot-stool, she asked, "Majah, is Hero aSt. Bernard or a Red Cross dog?" "He is both, " answered the Major, smiling at her puzzled expression. "Heis the first because he belongs to that family of dogs, and he is thesecond because he was adopted by the Red Cross Association, and trainedfor its service. You know what that is, of course. " Still Lloyd looked puzzled. She shook her head. "No, I nevah heard ofit. Is it something Swiss or French?" "Never heard of it!" repeated the Major. He spoke in such a surprisedtone that his voice sounded gruff and loud, and Lloyd almost jumped. Theharshness was so unexpected. "Think again, child, " he said, sternly. "Surely you have been told, atleast, of your brave countrywoman who is at the head of the organizationin America, who nursed not only the wounded of your own land, butfollowed the Red Cross of mercy on many foreign battle-fields!" "Oh, a hospital nurse!" said Lloyd, wrinkling her forehead and tryingto think. "Miss Alcott was one. Everybody knows about her, and her'Hospital Sketches' are lovely. " "No! no!" exclaimed the Major, impatiently. Lloyd, feeling from his tonethat ignorance on this subject was something he could not excuse, triedagain. "I've heard of Florence Nightingale. In one of my books at home, a_Chatterbox_, I think, there is a picture of her going through ahospital ward. Mothah told me how good she was to the soldiahs, and howthey loved her. They even kissed her shadow on the wall as she passed. They were so grateful. " "Ah, yes, " murmured the old man. "Florence Nightingale will live long insong and story. An angel of mercy she was, through all the horrors ofthe Crimean War; but she was an English woman, my dear. The one I meanis an American, and her name ought to go down in history with thebravest of its patriots and the most honored of its benefactors. Ilearned to know her first in that long siege at Strasburg. She nursed methere, and I have followed her career with grateful interest ever since, noting with admiration all that she has done for her country andhumanity the world over. "If America ever writes a woman's name in her temple of fame (I say itwith uncovered head), that one should be the name of _Clara Barton_. " The old soldier lifted his hat as he spoke, and replaced it so solemnlythat Lloyd felt very uncomfortable, as if she were in some way to blamefor not knowing and admiring this Red Cross nurse of whom she had neverheard. Her face flushed, and much embarrassed, she drew the toe of herslipper along Hero's back, answering, in an abused tone: "But, Majah, how could I be expected to know anything about her? Thereis nothing in ou' school-books, and nobody told me, and Papa Jack won'tlet me read the newspapahs, they're so full of horrible murdahs andthings. So how could I evah find out? I couldn't learn _everything_ intwelve yeahs, and that's all the longah I've lived. " The Major laughed. "Forgive me, little one!" he cried, seeing thedistress and embarrassment in her face. "A thousand pardons! The faultis not yours, but your country's, that it has not taught its children tohonor its benefactor as she deserves. I am glad that it has been givento me to tell you the story of one of the most beautiful things thatever happened in Switzerland--the founding of the Red Cross. You willremember it with greater interest, I am sure, because, while I talk, thecross of the Swiss flag floats over us, and it was here in this old townof Geneva the merciful work had its beginning. " Lloyd settled herself to listen, still stroking Hero's back with herslipper toe. "He was my friend, Henri Durant, and in the old days of chivalry theywould have made him knight for the noble thought that sprang to flowerin his heart and to fruitage in so worthy a deed. He was travelling inItaly years ago, and happening to be near the place where the battle ofSolferino was fought, he was so touched by the sufferings of the woundedthat he stopped to help care for them in the hospitals. The sights hesaw there were horrible. The wounded men could not be cared forproperly. They died by the hundreds, because there were not enoughnurses and surgeons and food. "It moved him to write a book which was translated into severallanguages. People of many countries became interested and were arousedto a desire to do something to relieve the deadly consequences of war. Then he called a meeting of all the nations of Europe. That was overthirty years ago. Sixteen of the great powers sent men to representthem. They met here in Geneva and signed a treaty. One by one othercountries followed their example, until now forty governments arepledged to keep the promises of the Red Cross. "They chose that as their flag in compliment to Switzerland, where themovement was started. You see they are the same except that the colorsare reversed. "Now, according to that treaty, wherever the Red Cross goes, on sea oron land, it means peace and safety for the wounded soldiers. In themidst of the bloodiest battle, no matter who is hurt, Turk or Russian, Japanese or Spaniard, Armenian or Arab, he is bound to be protected andcared for. No nurse, surgeon, or ambulance bearing that Red Cross can befired upon. They are allowed to pass wherever they are needed. "Before the nations joined in that treaty, the worst horror of war wasthe fate of a wounded soldier, falling into the hands of the enemy. Better a thousand times to be killed in battle, than to be takenprisoner. Think of being left, bleeding and faint, on an enemy's fieldtill your clothes _froze to the ground_, and no one merciful enough togive you a crust of bread or a drop of water. Think of the dying piledwith the dead and left to the pitiless rays of a scorching, tropic sun. That can never happen again, thank Heaven! "In time of peace, money and supplies are gathered and stored by eachcountry, ready for use at the first signal of war. The empress becamethe head of the branch in Germany. Soon after, the Franco-Prussian warbegan, and then her only daughter, the Grand Duchess Louise of Baden, turned all her beautiful castles into military hospitals, and wentherself to superintend the work of relief. "Your country did not join with us at first. You were having yourterrible Civil War at home; the one in which your grandfather fought. All this time Clara Barton was with the soldiers on their bloodiestbattle-fields. When you go home, ask your grandfather about the battlesof Bull Run and Antietam, Fredericksburg, and the Wilderness. She wasthere. She stood the strain of nursing in sixteen such awful places, going from cot to cot among the thousands of wounded, comforting thedying, and dragging many a man back from the very grave by her untiring, unselfish devotion. "When the war was over, she spent four years searching for the soldiersreported missing. Hundreds and hundreds of pitiful letters came to her, giving name, regiment, and company of some son or husband or brother, who had marched away to the wars and never returned. These names couldnot be found among the lists of the killed. They were simply reported as'missing'; whether dead or a deserter, no one could tell. She had spentweeks at Andersonville the summer after the war, identifying and markingthe graves there. She marked over twelve thousand. So when theseletters came imploring her aid, she began the search, visiting the oldprisons, and trenches and hospitals, until she removed from twentythousand names the possible suspicion that the men who bore them hadbeen deserters. "No wonder that she came to Europe completely broken down in health, soexhausted by her long, severe labors that her physician told her shemust rest several years. But hardly was she settled here in Switzerlandwhen the Franco-Prussian war broke out, and the Red Cross sought heraid, knowing how valuable her long experience in nursing would be tothem. She could not refuse their appeals, and once more started in thewake of powder smoke, and cannon's roar. "But I'll not start on that chapter of her life. I would not know whereto stop. It was there I met her, there she nursed me back to life; thenI learned to appreciate her devotion to the cause of humankind. Thissecond long siege against suffering made her an invalid for many years. "The other nations wondered why America refused to join them in theirhumane work. All other civilized countries were willing to lend a hand. But Clara Barton knew that it was because the people were ignorant ofits real purpose that they did not join the alliance, and she promisedthat she would devote the remainder of her life, if need be, to showingAmerica that as long as she refused to sign that treaty, she wasstanding on a level with barbarous and heathen countries. "For years she was too ill to push the work she had set for herself. When her strength at last returned, she had to learn to walk. At last, however, she succeeded. America signed the treaty. Then, through herefforts, the American National Red Cross was organized. She was madepresident of it. While no war, until lately, has called for itsservices, the Red Cross has found plenty to do in times of greatnational calamities. You have had terrible fires and floods, cyclones, and scourges of yellow fever. Then too, it has taken relief to Turkeyand lately has found work in Cuba. "I know that you would like to look into Miss Barton's jewel-box. OldEmperor William himself gave her the Iron Cross of Prussia. The GrandDuke and Duchess of Baden sent her the Gold Cross of Remembrance. Medalsand decorations from many sovereigns are there--the Queen of Servia, theSultan of Turkey, the Prince of Armenia. Never has any American womanbeen so loved and honored abroad, and never has an American woman beenmore worthy of respect at home. It must be a great joy to her now, asshe sits in the evening of life, to count her jewels of remembrance, andfeel that she has done so much to win the gratitude of her fellowcreatures. "You came to visit Switzerland because it is the home of many heroes;but let me tell you, my child, this little republic has more to showthe world than its William Tell chapels and its Lion of Lucerne. As longas the old town of Geneva stands, the world will not forget that herewas given a universal banner of peace, and here was signed its greatesttreaty--the treaty of the Red Cross. " As the Major stopped, the Little Colonel looked up at the white crossfloating above the pier, and then down at the red one on Hero's collar, and drew a long breath. "I wish I could do something like that!" she exclaimed, earnestly. "Iused to wish that I could go out like Joan of Arc to do some great thingthat would make people write books about me, and carve me on statues, and paint pictures and sing songs in my honah, but I believe that nowI'd rathah do something bettah than ride off to battle on a prancin'white chargah. Thank you, Majah, for tellin' me the story. I'm goin' fora walk now. May I take Hero?" A few minutes later the two were wandering along beside the watertogether, the Little Colonel dreaming day-dreams of valiant deeds thatshe might do some day, so that kings would send _her_ a Gold Cross ofRemembrance, and men would say with uncovered heads, as the old Majorhad done, "If America ever writes a woman's name in her temple of fame, that one should be the name of Lloyd Sherman--_The Little Colonel_!" * * * * * [Illustration: "THE TWO WERE WANDERING ALONG BESIDE THE WATERTOGETHER"] When the time came for the Shermans to move on, the Major was theirtravelling companion. But at Zug, several weeks later, it was necessaryfor him to stop and send for his niece to accompany him to a hospital atZürich. He had been caught in a sudden storm on the mountainside andstruck by a limb of a falling tree. If Hero had not led a party ofrescuers to him from the hotel he would have died before morning, butthey were in time to save him. Several lonely days followed for the Little Colonel. Either her fatheror mother was constantly with the Major, sometimes both. It greatly worried the old man that he should be the cause ofdisarranging their plans and delaying their journey. He urged them togo on and leave him, but they would not consent. Sometimes the LittleColonel slipped into the room with a bunch of Alpine roses or a clusterof edelweiss that she had bought from some peasant. Sometimes she satbeside him for a few minutes, but most of her time was spent with Hero, wandering up and down beside the lake, feeding the swans or watching thelittle steamboats come and go. One evening, just at sunset, the Major sent for her. "I go to Zürich inthe morning, " he said, holding out his hand as she came into the room. "I wanted to say good-bye while I have the time and strength. We expectto leave very early to-morrow, probably before you are awake. " His couch was drawn up by the window through which the shimmering lakeshone in the sunset like rosy mother-of-pearl. Far up the mountainsounded the faint tinkling of goat-bells, and the clear, sweet yodellingof a peasant, on his homeward way. At intervals, the deep tolling of thebell of St. Oswald floated out across the water. "When the snow falls, " he said, after a long pause, "I shall be far awayfrom here. They tell me that at the hospital where I am going, I shallfind a cure. But I know. " He pointed to an hour-glass on the tablebeside him. "See! the sand has nearly run its course. The hour will soonbe done. It is so with me. I have felt it for a long time. " Lloyd looked up, startled. He went on slowly. "I cannot take Hero with me to the hospital, so I shall leave him behindwith some one who will care for him and love him, perhaps even betterthan I have done. " He held out his hand to the dog. "Come, Hero, my dear old comrade, come bid thy master farewell. "Fumbling under his pillow as he spoke, he took out a small leather case, and, opening it, held up a medal. It was the medal that had been givenhim for bravery on the field of battle. [Illustration: "HE FASTENED THE MEDAL TO HERO'S COLLAR"] "It is my one treasure!" murmured the old soldier, turning it fondly, asit lay in his palm. "I have no family to whom I can leave it as anheirloom, but thou hast twice earned the right to wear it. I have nofear but that thou wilt always be true to the Red Cross and thy name ofHero, so thou shalt wear thy country's medal to thy grave. " He fastened the medal to Hero's collar, then, with the dog's great headpressed fondly against him, he began talking to him in the speech Lloydcould not understand, but the sight of the gray-haired old soldiertaking his last leave of his faithful friend brought the tears to hereyes. Then he called her to him and said that because she was like his littleChristine, he knew that she would be good to Hero, and he asked her totake him back to America with her. She promised that she would. Then heput Hero's paw in her hand, and said, "Hero, I give thee to thy littlemistress. Protect and guard her always, as she will love and care forthee. " * * * * * CHAPTER IV HOMEWARD BOUND On that long journey back to Kentucky it was well for Hero that he worethe Red Cross on his collar. The little symbol was the open sesame tomany a privilege that ordinary dogs are not allowed on shipboard. Instead of being confined to the hold, he was given the liberty of theship, and when his story was known he received as much flatteringattention as if he had been some titled nobleman. The captain shook the big white paw, gravely put into his hand at theLittle Colonel's bidding, and then stooped to stroke the dog's head. Ashe looked into the wistful, intelligent eyes his own grew tender. "I have a son in the service, " he said, "sent back from South Africa, covered with scars. I know what that Red Cross meant to him for a goodmany long weeks. Go where you like, old fellow! The ship is yours, solong as you make no trouble. " "Oh, thank you!" cried the Little Colonel, looking up at the big Britishcaptain with a beaming face. "I'd rathah be tied up myself than to haveHero kept down there in the hold. I'm suah he'll not bothah anybody. " Nor did he. No one from stoker to deck steward could make the slightestcomplaint against him, so dignified and well behaved was he. Lloyd wasproud of him and his devotion. Wherever she went he followed her, lyingat her feet when she sat in her steamer-chair, walking close beside herwhen she promenaded the deck. Everybody stopped to speak to him, and to question Lloyd about him, sothat it was not many days before she and the great St. Bernard had madefriends of all the passengers who were able to be on deck. The hours are long at sea, and people gladly welcome anything thatprovides entertainment, so Lloyd was often called aside as she walked, and invited to join some group, and tell to a knot of interestedlisteners all she knew of Hero and the Major, and the training of theambulance dogs. In return Lloyd's stories nearly always called forth some anecdote fromher listeners about the Red Cross work in America, and to her greatsurprise she found five persons among them who had met Clara Barton insome great national calamity of fire, flood, or pestilence. One was a portly man with a gruff voice, who had passed through theexperiences of the forest fires that swept through Michigan, over twentyyears ago. As he told his story, he made the scenes so real that Lloydforgot where she was. She could almost smell the thick, stifling smokeof the burning forest, hear the terrible crackling of the flames, feelthe scorching heat in her face, and see the frightened cattle driveninto the lakes and streams by the pursuing fire. She listened with startled eyes as he described the wall of flame, hemming in the peaceful home where his little son played around thedoorstep. She held her breath while he told of their mad flight from it, when, lashing his horses into a gallop, he looked back to see it lickingup everything in the world he held dear except the frightened littlefamily huddled at his feet. He had worked hard to build the cottage. Itwas furnished with family heirlooms brought West with them from the oldhomestead in Vermont. It was hard to see those great red tonguesdevouring it in a mouthful. In the morning, although they had reached a place of safety, they wereout in a charred, blackened wilderness, without a roof to shelter them, a chair to sit on, or a crust to eat. "The hardest thing to bear, " hesaid, "was to hear my little three-year-old Bertie begging for hisbreakfast, and to know that there was nothing within miles of us tosatisfy his hunger, and that the next day it would be the same, and thenext, and the next. "We were powerless to help ourselves. But while we sat there in utterdespair, a neighbor rode by and hailed us. He told us that Red Crosscommittees had started out from Milwaukee and Chicago at first tidingsof the fire, with car-loads of supplies, and that if we could go to theplace where they were distributing we could get whatever we needed. "I wish you could have seen what they were handing out when we gotthere: tools and lumber to put up cabins, food and beds and clothes andcoal-oil. They'd thought of everything and provided everything, and theywent about the distributing in a systematic, business-like way thatsomehow put heart and cheer into us all. "They didn't make us feel as if they were handing out alms to paupers, but as if they were helping some of their own family on to their feetagain, and putting them in shape to help themselves. Even my littleBertie felt it. Young as he was, he never forgot that awful night whenwe fled from the fire, nor the hungry day that followed, nor the factthat the arm that carried him food, when he got it at last, wore abrassard marked like that. " He touched the Red Cross on Hero's collar. "And when the chance came to show the same brotherly spirit to some oneelse in trouble and pass the help along, he was as ready as the rest ofus to do his share. "Three years afterward I read in the papers of the floods that had sweptthrough the Ohio and Mississippi valleys, and of the thousands that werehomeless. Bertie, --he was six then, --he listened to the account of thechildren walking the streets, crying because they hadn't a roof overthem or anything to eat. He didn't say a word, but he climbed up to themantel and took down his little red savings-bank. "We were pretty near on our feet again by that time, although we werestill living in a cabin. The crops had been good, and we had been ableto save a little. He poured out all the pennies and nickels in hisbank, --ninety-three cents they came to, --and then he got his only storetoy, a box of tin soldiers that had been sent to him Christmas, and putthat on the table beside the money. We didn't appear to notice what hewas doing. Presently he brought the mittens his grandmother up inVermont had knit for him. Then he waited a bit, and seemed to beweighing something in his mind. By and by he slipped away to the chestwhere his Sunday clothes were kept and took them out, new suit, shoes, cap and all, and laid them on the table with the money and the tinsoldiers. "'There, daddy, ' he said, 'tell the Red Cross people to send them tosome little boy like me, that's been washed out of his home and hasn'tany of his toys left, or his clothes. ' "I tell you it made a lump come up in my throat to see that the littlefellow had taken his very best to pay his debt of gratitude. Nothing wastoo great for him to sacrifice. Even his tin soldiers went when heremembered what the Red Cross had done for him. " "My experience with the Red Cross was in the Mississippi floods of '82, "said a gentleman who had joined the party. "One winter day we wereattracted by screams out in the river, and found that they came fromsome people who were floating down on a house that had been washed away. There they were, that freezing weather, out in the middle of the river, their clothes frozen on them, ill from fright and exposure. I went outin one of the boats that were sent to their rescue, and helped bringthem to shore. I was so impressed by the tales of suffering they toldthat I went up the river to investigate. "At every town, and nearly every steamboat landing, I found men from therelief committees already at work, distributing supplies. They didn'tstop when they had provided food and clothing. They furnished seed bythe car-load to the farmers, just as in the Galveston disaster, a fewyears ago, they furnished thousands of strawberry plants to the peoplewho were wholly dependent on their crops for their next year's food. " "Where did they get all those stores?" asked Lloyd. "And the seeds andthe strawberry plants?" "Most of it was donated, " answered the gentleman. "Many contributionscome pouring in after such a disaster, just as little Bertie's did. Butthe society is busy all the time, collecting and storing away the thingsthat may be needed at a moment's notice. People would contribute, ofcourse, even if there were no society to take charge of their donations, but without its wise hands to distribute, much would be lost. " It was from a sad-faced lady in black, who had had two sons drowned inthe Johnstown flood, that Lloyd heard the description of Clara Barton'sfive months' labor there. A doctor's wife who had been in the Mt. Vernoncyclone, and a newspaper man who had visited the South Carolina islandsafter the tidal wave, and Charleston after the earthquake, piled uptheir accounts of those scenes of suffering, some of them even greaterthan the horrors of war, so that Lloyd dreamed of fires and floods thatnight. But the horror of the scenes was less, because a baby voicecalled cheerfully through them, "Here, daddy, give these to the poorlittle boys that are cold and homesick;" and a great St. Bernard, with aRed Cross on his back, ran around distributing mittens and tinsoldiers. CHAPTER V IN AFTER YEARS Time flies fast under the Locusts. The sixteen years which have passedsince Hero followed his little mistress home have brought many changes. He is only a tender memory now. A square, white stone stands on the lawnwhere "taps" were sounded over him one September day, long ago. But thesight of it no longer brings pain to the Little Colonel. With the sweetambition in her heart to make life happier for every one she touches, she has grown up into a veritable Princess Winsome. In a home of her own now, to her own little son, she sometimes tellsthe story that is set down here. He is too young yet, to be told thechapters which have been added since to that amazing history ofsacrifice and service. And she cannot say now as the old Major saidthen--"Wherever the Red Cross goes is safety for the wounded soldiers. No nurse, surgeon or ambulance bearing that sign can be fired upon. "That part is no longer true, although the day is coming soon when weshall make it true for all time. She cannot tell him that the very nation which was first and foremost intraining such dogs as Hero in service for mankind has violated itstreaties and filled the world with horrors and suffering unspeakable. His trusting baby heart could not understand such treachery. But youngas he is he knows what that red and white symbol means. Because "daddy" wore one on his arm when he marched away with the othersoldiers, he must have one on the sleeve of his little blue rompers. Because "deah muvva" wears one on the veil which binds her forehead, when she comes back from the unit where she has spent long hours awayfrom him, he associates it with all that is loveliest to him--her lovelyface, her arms that are his peace and comfort and safety, her lips thatkiss away all his hurts and make them well. Long before he is old enough to hear the terrible war-part of the story, War shall be at an end, please God, and the Red Cross shall mean to thenations left upon the earth what it means to him--arms that enfold asuffering humanity, lips that press a great mother-love to all its hurtsand make them well. THE END. Transcriber's Note: On page 81, the word "acounts" was changed to"accounts. "