The Story of the Red Cross as told to The Little Colonel | Page 8

the bags for Lloyd to examine them. They were
marked with a red cross in a square of white, and contained rolls of
bandages, from which any man, able to use his arms, could help
himself until his rescuer brought further aid.
The flask which Hero brought was marked in the same way, and the
Major buckled it to his collar, saying, as he fastened first that and then
the shoulder-bags in place, "When a dog is in training, soldiers,
pretending to be dead or wounded, are hidden in the woods or ravines
and he is taught to find a fallen body, and to bark loudly. If the soldier
is in some place too remote for his voice to bring aid, the dog seizes a
cap, a handkerchief, or a belt,--any article of the man's clothing which
he can pick up,--and dashes back to the nearest ambulance."

"What a lovely game that would make!" exclaimed Lloyd. "Do you
suppose that 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? Let me see if he'll mind me."
The Major repeated the command.
"But I can't speak French," she said, in dismay. "What is it in English?"
"Hero can't understand English," said the Major, laughing at the
perplexed expression that crept into the Little Colonel's face.
"How funny!" she exclaimed. "I nevah thought of that befo'. I supposed
of co'se that all animals were English. Anyway, Hero comes when I call
him, and wags his tail when I speak, just as if he undahstands every
word."
"It is the kindness in your voice he understands, and the smile in your
eyes, the affection in your caress. That language is the same the world
over, to men and animals alike. But he never would start out to hunt the
wounded soldiers unless you gave this command. Let me hear if you
can say 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 shall
have more lessons, until you can give the command so well that Hero
shall obey you as he does me."
Then he began talking of Christine, her fair hair, her blue eyes, her
playful ways; and Lloyd, listening, drew him on with many questions.
Suddenly the Major arose, bowing courteously, for Mrs. Sherman,
seeing them 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' table
tonight 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 talked

about 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. His
loneliness appealed to her sympathy, and his kindness to her little
daughter had won her deepest appreciation. She turned with a cordial
smile to repeat Lloyd's invitation, which was gladly accepted.
That was the beginning of a warm friendship. From that time he was
included 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
Colonel often went out together alone. It grew to be a familiar sight in
the town, the graceful fair-haired child and the big tawny St. Bernard,
walking side by side along the quay. She was not afraid to venture
anywhere with such a guard. As for Hero, he followed her as gladly as
he did his master.
CHAPTER III
THE RED CROSS OF GENEVA
A week after the runaway, the handsomest collar that could be bought
in town was fastened around Hero's neck. It had taken a long time to
get it, for Mr. Sherman went to many shops before he found material
that he considered good enough for the rescuer of his little daughter.
Then the jeweller had to keep it several days while he engraved an
inscription on the gold name-plate--an inscription that all who read
might know what happened on a certain July day in the old Swiss town
of Geneva. On the under 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 a white square.
"Papa Jack!" exclaimed Lloyd, examining it with interest, "that