but he knew it was a solemn occasion. The man's manner told him as much.
"Good-bye, dog, be good until we meet again." He patted the dog upon the head and gave him to an orderly who took him away to a near-by house and locked him in the cellar. When Pierre discovered what had happened to him and that he was not going with his master, he set up a great howling and angry barking, but no one paid any attention to him. The fate of France hung in the balance that day; and what was a dog's howling, or a child's, either, for that matter?
It was a day of blood and iron; so small things like a broken-hearted dog in a cellar did not count.
For an hour Pierre raced up and down frantically, barking, whining, and howling. He tried every possible chance for
