Instinctively he knew that these sounds were full of danger to himself. He had seen what desolation such sounds could make the night the Boche bombed the hospital. He wanted to go back, but he could not for his master was still calling. To him there was but one law, and that was obedience to the voice which he loved. So after a short time he would again creep forward.
At last after a more fearful explosion than usual, which rained small particles all about him, he found himself in the narrow gulch, by the little stream near which his master lay. He stopped for a moment to cool his burning feet in the water and to lick up some of the refreshing liquid, then, joy of joys, he discovered the doctor’s footprints in the sand close to the brook. He sniffed excitedly and then with a glad yelp sprang forward eagerly keeping his nose close to the ground in order not to miss the trail. It wound in and out for several rods. Once it stopped by the side of a dead soldier. Pep sniffed at the man’s cold face, then hurried on. Would his master be like that when he found him? He missed the trail for a few feet where the doctor had stepped on some stones, but he soon recovered it again. Then joy unyelpable, he took the body scent and abandoned the trail. Three or four bounds carried him to the spot where the surgeon lay, prone upon the ground and very still.
Pep sniffed at his master’s face eagerly. It was not cold like the soldier’s. He licked the face frantically and whimpered pitifully. He sought the hand and thrust his muzzle into it. That, too, was warm, but very limp.
Again Pep began washing the dear face and something in the familiar touch penetrated to the surgeon’s slumbering consciousness, bringing him partly out of his swoon.
Pep noted with delight that the limp fingers closed gently over his muzzle and he registered his joy with a glad bark. Had his master been fully possessed of his senses he would have warned him that it was very dangerous to bark in the enemy’s country, but the doctor was only partly conscious. The gentle pressure did not mean as much as the dog imagined.
It was partly an involuntary movement. He was so used to squeezing the dog’s muzzle that it was something that he did instinctively. Then the hand lay still for a long time and the faithful watcher became very anxious. He returned to the face and showered it with dog kisses. But his master did not respond, so he went back to the hand.
Here, after a long time, he was again rewarded, for the fingers tweaked his ears gently. This was an old love token of his master’s and the dog was delighted. From this time on he went from hand to face licking and encouraging his master.
It is quite possible that these gentle ministrations did much to revive the fainting man. They at least gave him something to hold on to. They formed an objective, something towards which he might struggle, just as a gleam of light affords the needed clew in the darkness.
At last the physician came to himself enough to speak the dog’s name in a thick, strange voice, but it was unmistakable and the frantic terrier was overjoyed. Then the man lapsed into silence and was very still for another long time.
Finally to the great relief of the agonized dog the hand began fumbling about and the man to talk incoherently.