was now a young man eighteen years old, and glad that he was to march away and serve his country. Across the green pastures, ugly trenches were dug and barbed-wire coils were tangled everywhere. There were no sheep grazing upon the hillside now. They had all been sold and killed for food, while the dog Captain had been given to the ambulance corps.

"My son has gone to the front," said the father, proudly, "and I shall go, too, when I am needed. This shepherddog, Captain, is his dog and he trained him; so I know that my boy will be glad to have his dog in service also. He is a good dog-Cap!"

So Cap was given to the Red Cross Society and was soon trained to search out the wounded upon the battlefield and to bring them help. Cap was very proud of his harness, with its relief supplies and tiny canteens, and of his red cross, the badge of service. From the first day he showed his ability to look after the wounded soldiers.

"That dog is the kindest and most faithful animal in the whole lot," said the young doctor who trained Cap for the service. "The other day Captain saved thirty lives by his persistent searching on the battlefield; and we know that when Cap comes back holding a hat in his mouth there is some one out there whom we can help, and he leads us just to the place at once. Why, that dog almost talks, he is so intelligent."

One day there was a frightful firing across the trenches and the dogs and men suffered from the deadly fumes of poisonous gas. The doctor then put a mask over Cap's face to protect him from the gases. Cap seemed to know that it was for his own good, and, although he had never worn a muzzle in his life, he did not snarl or growl at this strange mask, but went right on with his work.

When the firing ceased and the fumes had passed away the mask was removed from Cap. He ran out into the valley of death, into the "No Man's Land" of the dead and wounded and sniffed about to find some one to help. Alas, how many of those brave boys were lying there in their last sleep! Cap sniffed about and at last was rewarded by finding a young soldier who was alive. As he sniffed the wounded soldier, his tail wagged in joy, and he suddenly broke the law of the Red Cross dogs and barked, in his excitement, a loud, sharp bark. The dogs had been trained never to bark and attract the enemy, but this time Cap could not control himself, for he had found his own young master.

Pierre had been wounded by the shrapnel and had fallen upon his face, but Cap soon pushed him over upon his back. The sharp barking of his dog aroused the unconscious aroused the unconscious young soldier, who, gazing upward, looked into the loving eyes of his faithful friend. "Cap -oh, Cap!" gasped Pierre. "Good dog! did you come for me? It is too late now, Cap," and Pierre groaned with the pain as he closed his eyes.

Cap gazed at him with pity and then began to lick Pierre's face with his rough tongue, as much as to say, "You must keep awake and I will help you." Pierre opened his eyes and looked again at Cap. Then, seeing the flask carried in the harness of the dog, he seized it eagerly and, taking a drink, he said, "You are right, Cap, I will brace up until you bring some one to help me.'

The dog took the young soldier's cap between his teeth and ran back to the hospital tent and the doctor. As he put the hat down he barked again sharply, as much as to say, “Do come quickly!"

"Now, Cap, none of that," said the doctor. "We will go to your soldier, but you must not command us by a bark."

All night long he watched and waited; he would not go out in the field again, for his own master might need him.

The doctor, who understood dogs as well as he did men, would not let them order the dog away. "Look at his big eyes; he is suffering with his wounded young master. No, Cap shall stay here and watch; the other dogs can do the field work." So he took off the harness from Cap and let him stay on guard at the door.

Cap waited and watched for several weary days and long nights, and every time the door opened he would look anxiously at the doctor. "All right, Cap, your master will pull through,' said the doctor at last. Sure enough, that day Pierre opened his eyes to the world again and his delirium had passed. He asked for Cap, and the dog was brought in. With his paws resting on his master's cot, Cap looked lovingly into his face.

"You saved my life, Cap, and when I am well and strong I will go back into the trenches. We must both fight for France, you and I, and now, old Cap, dear old Cap, you must go back to the field and look after the wounded, as you did long ago when I was hurt and you went out and guarded the sheep. I will be all right again and I will do my part, but, Cap, old man, you must go back now! Good-by, Cap- Good dog!-Cap!"

-Cap-saved my life when I went for a lost lamb, once-now, again just on time-good dog-Cap."

As the young man was rolled upon the stretcher he closed his eyes with that far-away look. Cap walked slowly behind the ambulance that carried his master to the hospital, where he stretched out by the door, waiting and watching.

Cap gave his head a shake and then, looking long and earnestly at his young master, he licked Pierre's face and hands. After this good-by

caress he trotted out and stood at attention before the doctor.

The doctor understood and buckled on Cap's Red Cross uniform and fitted him out for field work again. Then he bent over the dog and, patting him upon his head, he said the very words of the wounded young master:

"Good-by, Cap- Good dog!-Cap!"

THE

ET us play that we are knights,'

"LET

said young Paul Bentley to his kindergarten teacher, and as the leader of the knights the small boy galloped about upon an imaginary horse, playing out his deeds of valor. But later the games that he played became a reality, and as a soldier boy of to-day we hear of his accomplishing these "deeds of valor," for he drove an ambulance through the shell-stricken roads of France, was awarded the Croix de Guerre for bravery under fire, and then gave up his life in the performance of his duty.

Small Paul was always interested in the tales of the heroes of long ago. "Please tell of good King Arthur and his brave knights," he would plead; and he lived these stories, for he was filled with the spirit of chivalry and was always courteous in his speech and manner. "A real little knight," the grown-ups would say as they saw Paul waiting upon his mother and caring for and protecting his little brother.

When he was older and went to school one of the first plays that he wrote was about King Arthur and his knights, and it was so well written that the teacher let the children act it out for a school play.

Paul was a good student, for he had remarkable power of concentration, and he was very conscientious in his work. He did everything with his whole heart and soul-worked hard at his lessons and played hard on the playground.

"Paul always plays fair," said one of his chums, admiringly, "and he is so

brave he is never afraid to do things." And Paul was not afraid, provided that the thing was right, for he had a strong sense of justice and of right and wrong. He was fortunate in having the companionship of a dear grandmother, who influenced him by her stories and her example during his early years. He never forgot the lessons learned at his grandmother's knee, and when he was only nine years old he became a member of the church. His mother said that when he was about to return to college, at the close of his Christmas holidays, and was saying good-by to the family, he went back into the livingroom and looked again at the portrait of his grandmother, as though he were really taking a last farewell of her.

Paul's record at Harvard was very high and his name was upon the Honor Roll. As he had "A" in most of his work, he was excused from examinations, and was graduated from Harvard in June, although he was absent in the service of his country. For, as soon as war was declared, Paul was anxious to go over to France and serve in this World War for humanity.

PAUL ENLISTS

He had spent two summers in the soldiers' training-camp at Plattsburg and the first summer upon a long hike he strained the arches of his feet so that he could not belong to the infantry. The next season he joined the cavalry corps, but his eyes were weak, and they bothered him so much that he knew he