lifeless. The trip had taken the last particle of life and go out of them. But not so Pierre. All the dogs with whom he had drawn the first load of ammunition were dead, but Pierre was still in the lead position. Twice he had been grazed by bullets but they had done him no harm. He was still alert, eager, and full of vitality, and ready to do the bidding of his gods, the soldier-men.
As the captain looked down at him he grinned back and the man heard his stump of a tail thumping on the sod. Here was a little soldier who never would say die until the Boche got him for good.
At the sight of the dog, so alert, so eager, so splendid in his courage and endurance, a lump filled the captain's throat. He was just a dog, but he was great. He was every inch a soldier.
