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 The Slav Congress was officially inaugurated on June 2, the late arrival of some delegates having occasioned the delay. Palacký’s eloquent opening address set the tone for the business ahead. He cited the renewed spirit of liberty, fraternity, and harmony which had drawn the Slavs together, and he charged the delegates to go forward with the task of securing equality and justice for their peoples. Palacky’s remarks were carefully weighed; due gratitude was expressed to the “gracious” Emperor Ferdinand, under whose scepter the Slavs would surely attain a brighter future. Despite conclusive evidence that only Slav languages were spoken in the congress sessions, several German press reports gleefully maintained that Palacký’s keynote address was in fact delivered in German.

Palacký’s most effective contribution outside the formal meetings was in ironing out disputes and, later, in drafting the “Manifesto to the Nations of Europe.” One example of his mediation concerned the changes in the congress program which were proposed by the chairman of the Polish-Ukrainian section, the Poznań democrat Karol Libelt, at a meeting of the Plenary Committee on June 5. The original agenda, a cumbersome document, was in the form of a series of discussion questions. The delegates felt that this program, since it could not be carried out in the time allotted for the deliberations, would have an undesirable effect on European opinion. Libelt’s new program called for a “Manifesto to the Nations of Europe,” a message to the emperor that would convey the Slav nations’ individual as well as collective demands, and adopting a plan for the future federative union of the Austrian Slavs. In all likelihood these changes had been worked out previously in private discussions between Libelt and the Czech leaders, especially Palacký and Šafařík.

The “Manifesto to the Nations of Europe” was the only document that the congress had approved before Whitmonday, June 12, when the street fighting in Prague between students and workers and the Austrian military forces prematurely ended the congress deliberations. The Diplomatic Committee, headed by Palacký, held several meetings before agreeing on the text of the manifesto, most likely on June 10. The actual drafting was entrusted to Palacky, who drew on suggestions from Libelt, František Zach, Šafařík, and Mikhail Bakunin.

In Palacký’s final version, the manifesto stated the aims of the Slavs gathered in Prague. Recent revolutionary changes throughout Europe now impelled the Slavs—eighty million strong—to assume their rightful place among the peoples of Europe. The yoke of oppression “raised and defended by brute force in collusion with fraud and malice, is collapsing into dusty ruin under our eyes. A fresh vital spirit spreading over wide expanses


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 provide itself with a line of retreat and defence in case of failure, and a reserve line of attack.

As a result of all these errors and defects of the Party, and of the weakness of the working class, there was a shrinking from the decisive fight for power at the last moment. While in Bulgaria, where the Part y had formerly not participated in armed struggles, the defeat can still form the basis for future victories, in Germany, after the defeats of 1919 and of March, 1921, the Communists are in such a position that they must in the fight understand how to lead the masses to victory.

In any case, it was a great mistake of the Party not to have immediately changed its front and proceeded at once to partial struggles, and that in spite of the fact that some partial preparations had been made it retreated without a fight immediately upon the entry of the Reichswehr, the pronouncement of a state of siege throughout the Reich and the suppression of the Party.

The aggravation of the class antagonisms in Germany, the sharpening of the economic crisis, the concentration of the Party upon the decisive struggle, induced the Executive Committee of the Communist International and of the German Communist Party to undertake the experiment of allowing the Communists to enter the Saxon Government.

The idea of the participation in the Saxon Government was, in the opinion of the Executive, a special military and political task, which was defined in an instruction as follows:

"Since, as we estimate the situation, the decisive moment will take place not later than four, five or six weeks hence, we consider it necessary that every position that can be directly useful should be immediately occupied. In view of the prevailing situation, the question of entering the Saxon Government must be treated as a practical one. On the condition that Zeigner and his people will be prepared sincerely to defend Saxony against Bavaria and the Fascisti, we must enter the government, immediately arm from fifty to sixty thousand men in an effective manner, and ignore General Muller. The same in Thuringia."

Under these originally assumed premisses, the participation in the Government conformed to the resolutions of the Fourth Congress. The promotion of revolutionary struggles, the welding of the working masses should have been the pre-conditions for the entry into the Saxon Government: this entry should have been based upon mass movements. Although the direct military task had to be put off in view of the slowing down of the revolutionary process, nevertheless, the Communists could and ought to have carried on a real revolutionary activity. In this however, they showed themselves gravely below expectations.

It was their duty first of all to advance ruthlessly the question

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45 resolute courage. His duty is to hand the spare rifle quickly to you after you have fired off both the barrels of your rifle, to reload it promptly and to hand it to you again by the time you have discharged the second rifle. You should also have another trustworthy man with you with a spear or dagger to be utilized at close quarters. But never keep more than three persons with you. Of course in stalking you should have one or two shikaries with you. In tiger-shooting it is always a safe thing to shoot from a munchan. In the north, people shoot tigers from the backs of elephants. There the country is quite different from the southern parts of India. It is covered with long grass, and almost bare of trees. People ride on elephants, and surround the spot where the beast is tracked to. The technical term is "ringing the tiger." In ordinary jungles also, it is a usual thing to shoot tigers from


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Rh working along other lines. The Coming Man is to be noseless—that is settled; and there are not wanting those who support with enthusiasm the doctrine that he is to be hairless as well.

It is to be observed that these two effects, planing down of the human nose and uproot- ing of the human hair, are to be brought about differently—at least the main agency in the one case is different from that in the other. The nose is departing from among us because of its high sense of duty. Most of the odors of civilization being distinctly disagreeable, and in the selection of our food chemical analysis having taken the place of olfactory investigation, there is little for the modern nose to do that the modern nose-owner is willing to have done.

One of the most useful of all our natural endowments is what I may venture to call the conscience of the organs. None of the bodily organs is willing to be maintained in a state of idleness and dependence—to eat the bread of charity, so to speak. Whenever for any cause one of them is put upon the retired list and deprived of its functions and just influence in the physical economy it begins to withdraw from the scheme of things by atrophy.


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 of arming the workers; from the first moment of their participation in the Workers' Government, the Communists should have known no other basic principle but the arming of the proletariat.

It was further their duty to unfold before the masses their proletarian programme for saving the country, and to carry on an energetic propaganda for the political workers' councils, and thereby to counteract the sabotage of the Left socialist ministers. It was their duty to work in Parliament and in the factory councils for the immediate adoption of the revolutionary measures such as the confiscation of the enterprises of manufactures who were sabotaging production, and the requisition of the houses of rich families for homeless workers and their children.

It was also the duty of the Communists from the first moment of their participation in the government to brand in the eyes of the masses the double-dealing policy of Zeigner, his secret negotiations with the military dictators, as well as the whole counter-revolutionary rôle of the left social democratic leaders.

Owing to this negligence, and to the fact that the Party was not capable of mobilising the masses, the Saxon experiment failed to mark a forward move in the fight: instead of revolutionary strategy we had a non-revolutionary parliamentary co-operation with the "left" social democrats. The special assertion of the Communist ministers that they were responsible only to the Landtag and to the constitution, was scarcely suited to destroy democratic illusions.

The Chemnitz Conference could have been a success for the Party only if adequate revolutionary work had been undertaken by all the Party bodies. The Party allowed itself to be caught unprepared by the thrust of the enemy, the Reich-executive which everyone foresaw. The greater therefore was the error that, although the general strike was to be proposed, no attempt was made to concentrate the conference from the moment of its opening exclusively on the question of defence against the Reich-executive. These were errors, which undoubtedly facilitated the treacherous game of the Left social democratic leaders.

A direct contrast to Saxony was the uprising in Hamburg. Here it was proved that a bold surprise attack of determined fighters could smash the enemy militarily. But it also showed that such an armed struggle, even though, as was the case in Hamburg, it is regarded by the population not without sympathy and is supported by a mass movement, is nevertheless doomed to failure if it remains isolated and is not supported on the spot by a workers' council movement, the absence of which was severely felt in Hamburg.

The fight itself in the Reich was hampered by contradictory orders issued by the centre, and the strike movements which were actually taking place, suffered from lack of news of the fight in


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 is creating new worlds: freedom of speech, freedom of action have at last become realities.” The Slavs, “among whom liberty was ever cherished,” were determined not to embark on the course of oppression which had marred the history of the Latin and Germanic peoples:

The manifesto then raised an even more vital concern: the desire for the free development of Slav nationality: “Not less sacred to us than man in the enjoyment of his natural rights is the nation, with its sum total of spiritual needs and interests. Even if history has attributed a more complex human development to certain nations than to others, it has none the less always been seen that the capacity of those other nations for development is in no way limited.”

The manifesto denounced those nations which, in pursuit of their own aims, infringed on the just rights of other peoples to nationhood:

The Slavs did not seek vengeance for these wrongs; they were prepared to “extend a brotherly hand to all neighbouring nations who are prepared to recognise and effectively champion with us the full equality of all nations, irrespective of their political power or size.”

As for Austria’s political future, the Slavs were determined that “the state must be fundamentally reconstructed, if not within new [geographical] boundaries, at least upon new principles.” Foremost among these was the transformation of the imperial state into a “confederation of nations, all enjoying equal rights.” In this new union the Slavs envisaged “not


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46 the backs of elephants. The elephant must be well trained for tiger-shooting; otherwise it is safer to shoot on foot than from that huge animal. If you take your position on foot you should be well covered with green branches of bushy trees and plants. If you wound a tiger or a panther, never follow him up if you have lost sight of him. It is always safer to wait for a while and listen for his movements. When there is no sound from him heard, send some sharp shikaries with stones to climb some neighbouring trees, and to throw stones in the direction the beast went; and they must also look for him from the trees. A still safer thing to do is to get a herd of buffaloes or a flock of sheep or goats driven in the same direction. But never follow a wounded tiger or panther in a rash manner. Some well-known sportsmen say "never trust a tiger." Tiger-shooting is always very dangerous unless


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26 It withers away, and the place that knew it knows it no more forever. That is what is occurring in the instance of the human nose. We make very little use of it in testing our food—it has, in truth, lost its cunning in that way—in tracking our game, or in taking note of a windward enemy; albeit to most of the enemies of the race the nose is almost as good an annunciator as the organs which they more consciously address. So the idle nose is leaving us—more in sorrow than in anger, let us hope.

With the hair the case is different. It goes, not merely because its mandate is exhausted, but because it is really detrimental to us in the struggle for existence. Its departure is an instance, pure and simple of the survival of the fittest. Little reflection is required to show the superior fitness of the man that is bald. Baldness is respectability, baldness is piety, rectitude and general worth. Persons holding responsible and well-salaried positions are commonly bald—bank presidents especially. The prosperous merchant is usually of shin- ing pate; the heads of most of the great corporations are thinly thatched. Of two otherwise equal applicants for a position of trust and profit, who would not instinctively


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47 you know well his "ways and habits." As I said before, your safety is the chief thing in manly sports; I advise you never to follow a wounded tiger, panther, cheeta, bear, or hyaena, under any circumstances. If a sportsman shows any amount of courage and presence of mind in following and killing a wounded beast, people take very little notice of the adventure. If, on the other hand, he loses his life, though under unavoidable circumstances, people say he was a rash and careless fellow. Therefore you must be very careful and cautious in shooting wild animals. If the shikari or any other ordinary sportsman that accompanies you happens to lose his life in following a wounded beast, you will surely protect his family. If, on the other hand, anything were to happen to you, several hundreds of families would be deprived of their protector.


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 the Reich generally, and by the news which was received of the outcome of the Chemnitz Conference.

Nevertheless, it was possible to call off the fight in Hamburg with exemplary discipline. The lessons to be derived from it are valuable for the Party and for the International. Particularly noteworthy was the villianous conduct of the Hambourg Social Democratic Leaders who supported the military action against the rebels. Their conduct is but the reverse side of the medal, the face of which is the conduct of Zeigner and his "Lefts" in Saxony.

The Saxon experiment has severely discredited the "left" Social Democrats; it has demonstrated that they are in reality the lackeys of the counter-revolution. The Hamburg uprising has considerably strengthened the consciousness of power of the German proletariat, and was at the same time a severe blow for the Social Democrats.

The Communist Party must realise clearly the errors which were committed during the Saxon experiment and in connection with the fight in Hamburg. Without this it will be impossible for the Party to conduct correct tactics in the future.

The leading strata of the German Social Democrats are at the present moment nothing else than a fraction of German Fascism under a socialist mask. They have handed the power of the state over to the representatives of the capitalist dictatorship in order to save Capitalism from the proletarian revolution. Sollmann, the Minister for Internal Affairs, declared a state of siege; Radbruch, the Minister for Justice, has converted "democratic" justice into extraordinary justice against the revolutionary proletariat. Ebert, the President of the Reich, also formally handed over government power to SecktSeeckt [sic]. The Social Democratic fraction in the Reichstag screened these actions and voted for the Special Powers Act which set aside the constitution and handed over power to the White generals.

The whole international social democracy is gradually becoming the official armour bearer of the Capitalist dictatorship. Men like Turati and Modigliani in Italy, Sakasov in Bulgaria, Pilsudski in Poland, and the Social Democratic leaders of the stamp of Severing in Germany, are direct participators in the government power of the capitalist dictatorship.

For five years the German Social Democrats of all shades had been gradually passing over to the camp of the counter-revolution. The process is now nearing its completion. The legitimate heir of the "revolutionary" Government of Scheidemann and Hasse is the fascist General Seeckt.

It is true there are differences even in the camp of the capitalist dictatorship, and these may be of great enough importance to be


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48 It is said that if a man shoots twenty-one tigers he is called "tiger-slayer." My younger brother, the present Rajah of Jetprole, has shot sixty tigers up to the present day. It is said in the Hindu Sastras that if a man shoots a hundred tigers he is considered to be quite equal to the one who has performed the great sacrifice called the Rajasuya. I hope that my brother will be able to reach that number in course of time. But neither he nor any other sportsman should be subject to an uncontrollable desire to complete the number, one hundred or twenty-one.

As regards other game, such as deer, pigs, etc., one should be more humane to them. As far as possible, you should not shoot hinds nor a sow when it is followed by its farrow. Of whatever kind the game may be, a tiger or a deer, you should put an end to its life when it is badly wounded and cannot get away from


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 only [their] own salvation, but also liberty, enlightenment and humanity in general.” The Slavs trusted that the European nations would recognize the justice of this new arrangement. But whatever the case, the Slavs were committed to defending their national well-being by all available means. The manifesto refuted the calumnious accusations which the enemies of Slavdom were spreading, especially the “bogey of political Pan-Slavism.”

Turning to specific injustices, the Slavs protested the unjust partition of the Polish state and called on the “governments concerned finally to remedy this old sin.“ The manifesto also demanded that the Hungarian ministry cease persecuting the Slavs and fully assure their just national rights.

In conclusion, the Prague Slavs proposed that “a general European Congress of Nations be summoned for the discussion of all international questions”; prophetically, they urged that this step be taken at once, “Before the reactionary policy of the individual Courts causes the nations, incited by hatred and malice, mutually to destroy one another!”

Among students of the Slav Congress, the manifesto has evoked disparate judgments. Its admirers, exemplified by the Czech historian Josef Macůrek, maintain that the manifesto went well beyond other liberal homilies of the day by its radical egalitarian spirit and supranational appeal, and was “an effective reply to the Germans and Magyars who abused and sneered at the Congress.” Other writers have been more critical. The Bohemian German historian Anton Springer, who witnessed the events of 1848 in Prague, pointed to the political naivete and the contradictions of the document, such as the discrepancy between the radical urgency of the closing sentence and Palacký’s cautious approach to reform within Austria. Stanley Z. Pech has contrasted the idealistic depiction of a pacific Slav character, which contributed to the prevailing theme of Slav goodness and German evil that permeated the document, with the failure to weigh the social cause of oppression. Most recently, the Czech historian Arnošt Klíma has maintained that “in contrast to Palacký’s other writings of 1848, the manifesto was very general, insufficiently concrete,” and for this reason was largely ineffectual, which, Klíma added, likewise reflected the fate of the congress as a whole.

Essentially the manifesto reflected a compromise of the views advanced during the congress. Although specific political proposals were confined to the Austrian Slavs, the manifesto nonetheless expressed concern for the Slavs beyond the Habsburg borders. But any reference to the Russians was deliberately sidestepped to avoid adding fuel to charges that the Slavs were playing into tsarist hands. Both the romantic theme of a common Slav


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Rh "So bid me call a thousand of your men, since of mine own I have but twelve, and I will guard your land. Faithfully shall the hand of Siegfried serve you. Hagen shall help us and also Ortwin, Dankwart, and Sindolt, your trusty men. Folker, the valiant man, shall also ride along; he shall bear the banner, for to none would I liefer grant it. Let now the envoys ride home to their masters’ lands. Give them to understand they soon shall see us, that our castles may rest in peace.”

Then the king bade summon both his kinsmen and his men. The messengers of Liudeger betook them to the court. Fain they were that they should journey home again. Gunther, the good king, made offrance of rich gifts and gave them safe-convoy. At this their spirits mounted high. “Now say unto my foes,” spake then Gunther, “that they may well give over their journey and stay at home; but if they will seek me here within my lands, hardships shall they know, and my friends play me not false.”

Rich gifts men bare then for the envoys; enow of these had Gunther to bestow, nor durst the men of Liudeger refuse them. When at last they took their leave, they parted hence in merry mood.

Now when the messengers were come to Denmark and King Liudegast had heard how they parted from the Rhine, as was told him, much he rued, in sooth, their proud defiance. The envoys said that Gunther had full many a valiant man-at-arms and among them they saw a warrior stand, whose name was Siegfried, a hero from Netherland. Little liked it Liudegast when he heard aright this tale.

When the men of Denmark had heard these tidings


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reader of this book will be interested to know that Pierre was a real dog. As real as bone and muscle, and dog intelligence could make him.

His American friends described in these pages were the author and his wife.

Pierre came to us one Sunday morning while we were at breakfast just as described. We saw at once that he was a gentleman, in hard circumstances, and so took him in.

During the few months that he was with us he wriggled his way into the very depths of our hearts, although he worried us greatly as well. When we finally said good-bye to him, it was with tears in our eyes.


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 His life story both before and after his visit with us I have had to conjecture, as several links in this history are missing.

For that reason I have not used the real name of Pierre's mistress.

About twelve years ago, one May morning, an actress's palatial private car rolled into the station at Northampton, Massachusetts, which is three miles from my home. The car stood on a siding in the meadow city for two days while the actress played an important engagement in the Northampton theatre, before a brilliant Smith College audience. The day after the car left, a notice appeared in one of the local papers advertising for one of the great lady's dogs, which it stated had run away while the actress had been in the city. So far as I know, there were no answers to the advertisement.


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 Several months later a friend from Northampton who happened to be calling upon us exclaimed when she saw Pierre:

"Why, where in the world did you get Madame B.'s dog?"

"He isn't Madame's dog," I replied. "He's just a tramp, although a very distinguished one. He came to us last May and has had the best the house afforded ever since."

Then the friend told us of the actress's loss, while in the city, and of the advertisement. She also said that she had seen the dog on the rear platform of the car, and the maid combing him. She had likewise seen him half an hour later in a lively dog fight in another part of the city. When she called the attention of a policeman to the identity of the dog, he only laughed and refused to arrest the run-


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 away, and that was why he was not recovered at the time.

Now the real name of the actress who played at Smith College on that occasion was Madame Sarah Bernhardt, but because some of the evidence establishing the fact that Pierre was her dog is missing, I have not used her name in the story. So with this incomplete pedigree of the Gentleman from France, I leave the reader to follow his fortunes to the happy end.


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was a dog-lover. What he did not know about dogs was not to be found in the dog dictionary, or any other reliable dog book. He talked dog by day, ate "hot dog" for lunch, and dreamed dog all night long.

His canine friends were always scurrying between his legs, or jumping upon him; so he smelled of dog as well.

It was very laughable to see him come out of Hotel Bellevue in Rue Galilee and start down the street. This was a signal


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 heritage and the primacy of the concept of national sovereignty derived from the pre-March writings of the Slav awakening. In issuing the manifesto, the Slavs sought to clarify their position to an uninformed—if not misinformed—European opinion.

Although Palacký had several alternative drafts at his disposal, the manifesto was stylistically and in subject emphasis his own creation. Nevertheless, a German commentator for Die Grenzboten could not believe that this “liberal” manifesto was the work of Palacký: “[It] is completely foreign to the spirit of the Czech party. The manifesto aims at the bright plains of humanism, [while] the Czechs’ policy looks back to the past The language of the manifesto preaches peace among nations, but the entire policy of the Czechs  has been maliciously to incite the Germans to anger and hatred.”

On many issues Palacký’s views did not differ significantly from those of his collaborators. Libelt’s draft dwelled at length on the uniqueness of the pacific Slav character and the egalitarian basis of the primitive Slav communal life. He likewise projected a messianic role for the Slavs in a rejuvenated Europe. Libelt paid less attention to immediate political issues the dangers stemming from the Germans and Magyars—than appeared in Palacký’s final version. A teacher of philosophy by vocation, Libelt foresaw the triumph of a sort of Christian socialism wherein individual Christian love would guide the relations among nations as well. As a manifesto, however, Libelt’s draft was ill-conceived, bearing in the opinion of one observer “an uncomfortable resemblance to a political tract.” Moreover, Libelt’s draft contained none of the specific proposals for social and economic reform which he had outlined in the new agenda of June 5.

Zach’s suggestions covered many points raised by Libelt and anticipated Palacký’s text. The previously politically scattered Slav tribes were rightly following the lead of the Latins and Germans in striving to attain political liberty, national equality, and union. Zach echoed the theme of an inherent egalitarian spirit among the Slavs, but, unlike Libelt, he scrupulously applied his suggestions solely to the affairs of the Austrian Slavs.

Bakunin’s proposal, on the other hand, was a messianic call for Slav unity. “The hour of deliverence has [at long last] sounded for the Slavs.” Past internecine strife, which had caused the Slavs to fall victim to the German yoke, would cease as the Slavs came to share a newly discovered faith in their common destiny. But to guarantee this brighter future, Bakunin stipulated a series of stringent measures to maintain Slav union. The Slav nations would have to submit to a potentially coercive central


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 to all the dogs in the neighborhood that their friend and master was afoot; so they would come scurrying from every side-street and alley, yelping and barking, and nearly wagging their tails off with delight.

Finally the canine concourse would get so large that old Jean would have to send home a few of his friends to keep from being arrested as a dog nuisance.

A still more laughable sight was to see some grand madame promenading along the street with her favorite dog on the leash. Suddenly the beloved canine would begin to strain frantically upon the cord, and no word from his mistress would soothe him. At last he would break away with frantic yelps and make for old Jean Dubois, the dog man, whom he had espied coming up some side-street.

Old Jean had been in the French army


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 in his younger days, and his grandfather had been one of the Old Guard at Waterloo. So next to dogs, or perhaps even before them, but in a different way, he worshipped soldiers, and the memory of Napoleon, whom he liked to refer to as the "Little Corporal."

Many a heated argument old Jean had with his grandson, young Jean of the Alpine Chasseurs, as to the merits of the new French army and the men of Napoleon's day, with whom the elder Jean had fought.

Young Jean always concluded these arguments with the assertion that the Germans would never again thrash France as they had done in 1871, at which the old soldier would shake his head.

The defeat of the French under Louis Napoleon was a sore topic with the old


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 soldier, and his grandson reminded him of it only when sorely pressed.

Old Jean was as proud of the Alpine Chasseurs as was his grandson.

He always took part in their discussions when Jean's companions came to the stable to smoke and talk. Indeed they were a fine-looking lot in their gay uniforms and with their soldierly manners. Young Jean himself was as tall as a Lombardy poplar and handsome as any French gallant, or at least that was what his doting grandfather thought as he feasted his eyes upon him.

At Hotel Bellevue in Rue Galilee, where he was hostler, old Jean was allowed but one dog, and that was Nanette, an Airedale terrier.

But in the eyes of old Jean, Nanette was a dozen dogs in one. She was de-


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 scended from a famous English strain and had taken many blue ribbons in her day, but was now well past her prime, and for that reason had fallen into the possession of the little Frenchman.

She was a typical Airedale, with coarse, wiry coat, black above and tan beneath. She was tall and muscular, and could hold her own in any street scrimmage, no matter what the company. Her keen terrier eyes looked warily out from under shaggy brows, always appraising one critically. Her ears were cocked with a slight droop at the tip, as though continually listening; this combination with the hairy face, gave her a quizzical look. As old Jean said, she always weighed you in the balance before making friends.

One day in early spring, about six months before my story, Nanette ran away


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 and made the acquaintance of Pierre Beaufort, a celebrated Airedale Champion at a neighboring hotel. This meeting had been one of many, and very familiar relations were soon established.

Old Jean knew nothing of all this, for he had been busy in the garden at the time, and absorbed by rumors of war. So his astonishment can well be imagined when he found Nanette one morning in a manger licking a newly born Airedale puppy.

There was but one in the litter, because of Nanette's age, but old Jean was delighted. He laughed and cried and hugged the old Airedale until she was the happiest dog in France.

Though there was but one pup, it made up in size and beauty for a larger number, and with the feeding and petting of old Jean and the extra milk from its dam,


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 it grew like a weed and was soon the idol of the hotel.

The old soldier christened the newcomer Napoleon Bonaparte, and called him Nap for short, and often the "Little Corporal." So these were the names that he went by until Madame, the great actress, discovered him one day before Hotel Bellevue while she was passing in her limousine.

The Little Corporal was playing in the yard when the shining machine drew up before the hotel. His play was never a tame affair, for he played as though the destiny of France hung upon the vigor with which he shook up the paper bag that he had just discovered.

"Stop, Laporte," cried the great lady as she caught sight of the pup. "I must have that dog."


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 She whistled shrilly to him.

Instantly he ceased his play and sat up very alert on his stub tail, his head cocked on one side, his bright eyes looking warily at her from under his shaggy brows.

Then she whistled again, and he cocked one ear, and let the other droop that he might listen the harder. This gave him such a ludicrous expression that Madame laughed.

This was enough for Nap; that laugh of the actress, at which kings and queens had smiled, went straight to the heart of the Little Corporal, and with a series of frantic bounds he reached the panting car. He did not stop there, but bounded like a rubber ball through the open door and into the actress's lap, soiling her beautiful fur coat with his muddy paws.

But she did not care. She hugged him


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 and snuggled his whiskered face close to hers, and vowed if there was money enough in France to buy him, he should be hers.

The chauffeur was then sent for Jean. The old man came bowing and smiling to the car. But when he heard what the actress wanted of him his face fell. If he had not been in the presence of a very great lady whom all France loved, he would have sworn at the idea of selling his dog. But instead, being a Frenchman, he wept.

"Madame," he said hoarsely, "lama soldier, and can a soldier of France sell Napoleon?"

It was a pertinent question, but Madame began counting out shining louis until old Jean's eyes bulged from his head.


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24 told, they hasted all the more to call their friends; till Sir Liudegast had gathered for his journey full twenty thousand knights from among his valiant men. Then King Liudeger, also, of Saxon land, sent forth his summons, till they had forty thousand men and more, with whom they thought to ride to the Burgundian land.

Likewise at home King Gunther got him men-at-arms among his kin and the liegemen of his brothers, and among Hagen’s men whom they wished to lead thence for battle. Much need of this the heroes had, but warriors soon must suffer death from this. Thus they made them ready for the journey. When they would hence, Folker, the daring, must bear the flag. In such wise they thought to ride from Worms across the Rhine. Hagen of Troneg was master of the troop; with them rode Sindolt and Hunolt, too, who wist well how to merit Gunther’s gold. Dankwart, Hagen’s brother, and Ortwin, too, well could they serve with honor in this war.

“Sir King,” spake then Siegfried, “stay ye at home; since that your warriors are willed to follow me, remain ye with the ladies and keep your spirits high. I trow well to guard for you both honor and estate. Well will I bring it to pass that those who thought to seek you out at Worms upon the Rhine, had better far have stayed at home. We shall ride so nigh unto their land that their proud defiance shall be turned to fear.”

From the Rhine they rode through Hesse with their warriors towards Saxon land, where they later fought. With fire and pillage, too, they harried all the countryside, so that the two kings did learn of it in dire distress. Then came they to the border; the warriors


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 He had a grandchild who was a cripple. He had dreamed for years of taking him to a great surgeon. Here was the way opening before him. Besides young Jean would need money if he went away to this war that every one said was coming.

He thought hard of little Adolph, and without even daring to look at the Little Corporal, nestled contentedly down in the lap of the actress, he silently stretched out his hand for the shining coins.

Not saying another word, and with tears streaming down his wrinkled face, he turned and walked into the stable, not daring to even look behind him lest one glance at the hairy face of Nap might cause him to repent. When he had disappeared, the actress spoke to the chauffeur and the car glided slowly out of the courtyard and down the street, on its way


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 to her château on the Loire, which was to be the new home of the Little Corporal.

He had fallen into good hands. There was no doubt of that. No other woman in France loved dogs as did the actress. Her friends and servants would be good to him, because of the saying: "Love me, love my dog." But would the Little Corporal ever find another heart so true as old Jean's? Would he ever find another soldier to romp and play with him as young Jean did? It was doubtful, but life is strange. Even the life of a dog may be as wonderful as a fairy story; so we will follow the limousine and see for ourselves.


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the limousine started slowly out of the courtyard before Hotel Bellevue, and he could see only the retreating back of old Jean, the Little Corporal was afraid. He began wriggling and whimpering to be let down, but the actress had a way with her that none could resist; for had she not coaxed and wheedled two continents, causing millions to laugh or weep as she willed? And so it was with Nap. She snuggled him in her warm coat, and covered his hairy face with kisses. She drew his shining ears through her fingers in that coaxing way that dog-lovers understand, and dogs love. She squeezed his paws between her small gloved hands, and


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 laughed and smiled at him, and in five minutes they were the best of friends.

It must not be imagined that any woman could have picked up the Airedale and carried him off in this unceremonious manner, and so completely won his confidence. But the Little Corporal at once felt the great lady loved him. In fact, she had fallen desperately in love with him at sight, and being a true little gallant himself, he could not but reciprocate her love.

If he occasionally sat down thoughtfully on his stump of a tail and tried hard to think what it was that he missed, if at such times a strange tugging at his impulsive heart caused a mournful look to overspread his quizzical little face, there was no one to tell him that he missed his first love, old Jean.

But the new life at the château was so


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 varied and full of interest, and his mistress and her servants petted him so freely that in a day or two the stump of a tail was wagging away just as it had done at the Hotel Bellevue.

There was no part of the château that was too good for Pierre, as the actress at once rechristened him—not even her own boudoir.

"Pierre!" she would cry, clapping her hands together the first thing in the morning when she awoke. The Airedale, that was sleeping on a beautiful moquette rug at the foot of the bed, or sometimes even on the bed itself, would scramble up to her face. Then there would be a real rough-and-tumble love feast.

How scandalized the vast audience in Drury Lane, or Broadway would have been to see her hugging, kissing, and


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 fondling a mere dog! But her private life was her own, and she did with it very much as she pleased. The public and the theatre managers might tyrannize over her as an actress, but here she was supreme and her word was law.

Marie, her special maid, was disgusted with the manners of her mistress's latest canine love. She complained of him most grievously when she was sure of secrecy, but she never dared so much as breathe a word against Pierre in his mistress's presence.

Pierre's feeling for Marie was one of contempt. With his keen intuition, he soon discovered that she was afraid of him. When he could catch her in an out-of-the-way corner he would back her up against the wall, and by growling prodigiously for so small a dog, and showing a double row


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 of puppy teeth as sharp as needles, the roguish Pierre would scare poor Marie nearly into a fit.

When she had screamed and wept to his complete satisfaction, he would back away and laugh at her, not audibly, but nevertheless the laughter would run all over his hairy, alert face, and any dog-lover would have recognized it as the most mirthful of dog laughter.

After one of these tragic scares Marie confided to Louis Laporte, the chauffeur, that the "little devil" would be the death of her. Louis, who was fond of Marie, kissed away her tears, and said Pierre was the most impudent piece of dog meat that had ever come to the château.

If I were to enumerate all the notable people whose acquaintance Pierre made during his six-months' stay at the château,


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 it would weary my reader, but suffice it to say that they were legion.

Prime ministers, ambassadors, dramatists, poets, and actors,—in short, all the great people who came to the château had first to do homage to Madame's latest dog love; and of one accord, being very polite people, they pronounced him the most wonderful dog they had ever seen, although in secret afterwards some of them expressed themselves very freely to the contrary.

But none of these things ever came to the ears of either the actress or Pierre. If he did occasionally hear other things not intended for his keen cocked ears, he kept his own counsel and so kept out of trouble.

Early in the summer—it was July by the calendar, but of course Pierre did not know that—he noted great excitement


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 among the people at the château. They talked much louder, and more continuously than usual. Each morning when Laporte came with the mail there was a great scramble for the Paris papers. No matter how quiet or peaceful it might have been before the mail came, there was always pandemonium after that. Something was turning the château upside down. Dog that he was, Pierre understood this.

The strange excitement that the papers always brought would cause the men to clench their fists and grow red in the face and cry "Boche," or "La Guerre," while the women would weep and look miserable.

From all this, Pierre concluded in his dim dog way, that "Boche" was somebody or something very bad, and that La Guerre was also very bad.


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 He likewise noted that Laporte put on the strange clothes that young Jean, his former playfellow, always wore. He could tell these clothes by the tight-fitting leggings. He could not reach under these trousers and nip the legs as he could with the ordinary suit.

Most of the men who came to the château now wore these soldier suits and Pierre would go sniffing about their legs to see if by any chance one of them might be young Jean.

He liked them all, for they were sure to tumble him about when they were not in a hurry. There was also something strong and rough about them that he missed in his pampered life at the château.

Thus it was that Pierre noted the warcloud that hung over France.

Being a mere dog, he did not know that


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 Liège had fallen, or that the Germans were sweeping across Belgium a million strong; that they were coming in five great armies marching abreast, a mighty tidal wave of bayonets. Even France did not realize their numbers then, but all knew that terrible times were ahead. The men and the women knew it and Pierre felt it in the air and saw it in their faces.


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the middle of August when it was very hot even at the château, and intolerable in the city, Madame, accompanied by Pierre and Marie, set out for Paris. The actress was going to Paris to begin rehearsals with her company for a season in America.

She would gladly have donned a uniform in this, the hour of her country's need, but that she could not do. She could, however, give her services in another way. Few women have earned more money than she, and it should all go to France. Money meant cannon, ammunition, food, and tents for the soldiers. In short, money was almost as essential as


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 men. Money she would give without stint. So up to Paris she went in the sweltering heat, with all the enthusiasm of youth.

But it was not a normal France through which they travelled. All was hurry and confusion. The railroads were crowded with troop trains, and the highways were swarming with taxicabs and other motors filled with eager, sweating soldiers. At each load of soldiers Madame waved her hand, and Pierre barked gladly. For they all reminded him of young Jean, whom he never would see again.

Even upon the outskirts of Paris they were obliged to go very slowly, for every vehicle that could carry men or supplies had been pressed into service. All these were hurrying northward, while others were coming back empty, or filled with wounded soldiers.


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 Dozens of times the luxurious car of Madame was held up in the gutter while seemingly endless lines of marching men passed. There were infantry and cavalry, artillery and ambulance corps, and these in turn were followed by crowding lowing herds of cattle, and bleating flocks of sheep—the rations on the hoof, following the army.

At one of these exciting waits, a handsome man in a gay uniform mounted on a splendid horse, rode up to Madame's car and drew rein.

"Madame, the great actress," cried the Colonel gaily, "your friend, Colonel Lafleur. Don't you remember?" And he saluted her just as though she had been a general herself.

The actress held out her eloquent hand.

"I have been looking for you all the


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 afternoon, Colonel," she said, in her deep rich voice. "You are always in my thoughts."

She loved the Colonel and he loved her, but it was one of those unfortunate love affairs, which could never be realized to the full; for he was only a poor Colonel, without family or money, while she was the famous actress whom the world adored.

"This is my regiment," he said, motioning to the splendid column, eight abreast, which was marching rapidly by. "In five minutes more, Madame, I must follow them. Even now I should be riding at their head. My country calls, but I may stay five minutes at the call of Cupid. Can we not crowd a year into five minutes?" He rode close to the car and, leaning over, took the actress's hand. She did not resist, but returned his pressure


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 warmly. "You are a brave man," she said. "I wish I could fight for France."

"It is such as you who inspire us to fight," he returned. "We fight for the women and the children of France."

"Four minutes are already gone," he said, presently, glancing at the watch on his wrist. "What a thief of time love is!"

While they had been talking, Pierre had been watching the soldiers with wary eyes. As the last rank filed by, he barked excitedly.

"Your dog says I must go," observed the Colonel. "He has spoken truly. This is my last moment. Can't you give me something that will go with me through the long march, and even through battles, to death if need be?"

Tears filled the actress's eyes. She


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 leaned over and printed a warm kiss upon the soldier's hand. "You may remember that," she said in a low, intense voice.

"Will it mean anything more if I come back?" asked the soldier.

"Probably not," she returned. "You know how it is."

"Yes," he said sadly. "I know."

"I am sorry," she said, "but I am not mistress of my own life. None of us famous people are."

"More's the pity," returned the Colonel. "May I have this for a keepsake?"

He unclasped the bracelet on her wrist.

"Yes, yes," she said joyfully. "The things I can give, I give gladly."

Then looking down the Colonel's eyes fell upon Pierre. He was watching the soldier warily from under his shaggy eyebrows.


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 "May I have this, too?" he asked, laying his hand on the dog's head. "He would keep me from being lonesome. He loves you, too. We would be company for each other. We would talk about you on the march, or in camp. I want him very much."

"Pierre! Pierre! He is the dearest thing I have. Pierre, can I give you away?" The Airedale looked up inquiringly, first at his mistress, and then at the Colonel.

"Yes," she said at last. "Take him, and God keep you both."

The Colonel glanced at his watch again. "Time is up," he said. "Good-bye, my lady. If we do not meet again, we have had these five immortal minutes. I shall live them over again many times. Are you coming with me, my little soldier?"


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 The Colonel laid his hand upon the dog'a head.

The Airedale had been sniffing at his coat-sleeve inquiringly for several seconds. He was one of the soldier-men, like young Jean. Pierre liked him.

"Are you coming with me?" repeated the Colonel. Now the Colonel was a masterful man. When he spoke, men, dogs, and horses always obeyed.

While the question was an invitation, yet it was also a command. The Airedale lifted his eyes to his mistress. Her eyes were filled with tears.

"Go, Pierre," she said, "and God keep you both."

The Colonel put one hand upon the dog's collar and the other under his belly and lifted him to the pommel of the saddle. He saluted, touched his horse with the


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 spur, and they galloped away after the rapidly disappearing regiment.

The last the actress saw of Pierre, he was looking backward at her from under the Colonel's elbow.

He was going to be a soldier with one of the bravest men in France. Perhaps he would like that even better than his mistress's petting and fondling. In some ways he was a man's dog. Now he would be a War Dog.

"Laporte, start up the machine," she said irritably. "What are we waiting here for?"

"Oui, Madame," said Laporte, and they moved slowly on into the heart of Paris and to work—which after all is the best balm for aching hearts.


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was a sudden and complete change that had come into the life of the Airedale. From the luxury and ease of the car he had gone at a single bound, as it were, to the pommel of the Colonel's saddle.

From the small, soft hand of the actress to the strong, yet kindly hand of the man of iron. Of the two, he was not sure but that he preferred the strong hand, for he was a high-spirited animal, full of strife and struggle. As long as he could see the car, he continued to look backward beneath the Colonel's elbow, but when they turned the next corner he faced about and looked up at the man.


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 "That's right, little soldier," said the Colonel. "No more looking back for you and me. It must be forward at any cost for us from now on."

The horse joggled him so he could hardly keep his seat upon the saddle, which was not built for man and dog. But finally the Colonel borrowed a blanket from a soldier and strapped it in front of him, and his little chum was made quite comfortable.

They were in the very midst of things, with excitement all about them, and that suited Pierre. They were at the head of the fast-marching column. He had not imagined there were so many of the young I can men in the world. The streets were lined with people, not soldiers, but just ordinary people, and they cheered as the long column swept by and Pierre wiggled


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 about on his perch and barked, just as though the cheering had been intended for him, and perhaps some of it was.

All through the afternoon till dusk they marched and marched.

As they went on, the city streets were left far behind, and the broad macadam road ran through green fields and country villages.

At dusk they halted in a field near one of the villages.

The Jean men all ihrew down their blankets and knapsacks and began building queer little houses. The Colonel and the other officers soon went to the village, where they were billeted for the night in the best quarters obtainable.

Pierre took mess with the Colonel, eating from his new master's hand. After each bite there was a kind word or a


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 caress. Thus they grew to be good chums, and their friendship ripened rapidly.

It had been such an exciting afternoon and the Colonel was so good to him that Pierre did not once think of his mistress until the soldier drew the sparkling bracelet from his pocket and kissed it before lying down in his blanket in front of an open fire. He had been offered a bed but refused it, saying that he could not get accustomed to the blanket too soon.

"You want to kiss it, too, little soldier?" asked the man, placing the bracelet before the dog's muzzle. Pierre licked it and whined softly.

"We both love her, don't we, little soldier? We'll keep right on loving her till the end of life, whether that be long or short—who knows?"

Pierre was filled with a great sense of


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 homesickness at the smell of the bracelet. He went to the door and scratched upon it, then went back to the Colonel and begged to be let out.

"It's not for us, little soldier," said the man. "Ours is the hard road ahead. You cuddle down with me and we'll say a prayer for her and for ourselves. God knows we may need it. Then sleep. We can't waste any time howling to-night."

All the time the strong hand had been caressing his head and drawing the soft ears between the fingers in the manner that dogs like.

Then the Colonel put the dog between his feet under the blanket and soon both were asleep.

In almost no time the bugler was blowing reveille, and both soldiers tumbled out of their blanket ready for the day's march.


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 By half—past six the long column was on the road again, the Colonel and Pierre leading the way.

When he had become so accustomed to the life that the Colonel felt sure he would not run away he would let him down to run beside the horse. On these occasions he would scurry up and down the marching column, barking frantically and nipping at the soldiers' legs. These rhythmic marching legs, keeping time, all moving so rapidly, had a great fascination for Pierre. He, on his part, amused the soldiers. He was adopted almost immediately as the regimental mascot, and the men always hailed his appearance among them with shouts of delight. So altogether it was a most exciting and glorious life that the War Dog led.

One night, three days after they had


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 left Paris, they camped upon the brow of a high hill, which looked down upon a broad plain. On the farther side of the plain were some villages. There was a river running close to the foot of the hill.

Beyond the villages, as far as the eye could reach, hung a great cloud of smoke, from which jagged flames of lightning spurted.

All the afternoon they had been hearing distant thunder and it seemed to come from this dark cloud. The new soldiers all pointed at it and seemed much excited.

That evening the Colonel was very busy and Pierre did not see him until taps. He was hurrying about among the men, and other men were constantly coming to him. There was a strange excitement in the air. Pierre felt it also. It made his nerves tingle and the hair stand up along his


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 back. Somehow he wished that another dog would come along so he could get into a rough and tumble.

The Colonel sent an orderly for him about ten o'clock and he was taken to the officer's tent.

"Hello, little soldier," said the man pleasantly and Pierre barked a friendly greeting. "This may be our last night together, messmate," said the soldier as he divided his rations with his comrade. "We must make the most of it."

After mess he romped and tumbled the dog about for a few moments, and then fell to stroking his ears in that nice way he had. Pierre knew that the Colonel must love him. He could even feel it in his hands.

They took out the bracelet and both kissed it. This night, Pierre did not


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 whimper to go back to his mistress. He was fast becoming a soldier. Soon the bracelet was returned to the man's pocket. "We both love her, don't we, little soldier?" The dog wagged his tail in assent.

Then they said their prayer to the God of battle and rolled up in the blanket as they had done for the past three nights, the dog between the man's feet.

The following morning, reveille was earlier than usual. The man and the dog bolted their rations with the utmost dispatch.

When the meal was over, the Colonel picked up the Airedale and hugged him.

"I must go alone to-day, little soldier," he said. "Perhaps I sha'n't come back. If I do not, they will send you back to her. Tell her I died loving her."

Pierre did not understand the words,


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 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


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 escape, but there seemed to be none. The door at the head of the stairs was locked. He sprang against it repeatedly, but it would not give.

The windows were all too high for him to attempt. He sprang at each several times, but finally gave that up also. Then he sat down on his tail to think, but no way of escape came to him. Finally he lay down to rest, for the strenuous hour had tired him out. As he lay upon the ground, where earth sounds came plainly to his ears, he noted that the strange thunder they had heard all the day before was now much louder and more persistent. It must be a bad storm, indeed. It was a bad storm, for this was the day that the great man of France had said, "We must go forward now, no matter what the cost." Every true Frenchman, and all


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 Frenchmen were true in those days, was obeying the command.

Pierre must have slept, for when he next noted the strange thunder it had swelled to a constant roar, which made the windows in his cellar rattle. Again he made a detour of the cellar, and he now noted a pile of boxes near one of the windows. They were piled up so evenly he could not scale them, but if they were tumbled down he might.

With the thought, which was perhaps only an instinct, he began digging frantically under the bottom box. Three hours steady digging did the trick. He was nearly buried under the avalanche when the pile fell but he managed to scramble out and then jump upon the fallen heap.

The window was now about three feet above him. The first spring shattered the


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 exploited for our class fight. There are shades of difference between Ebert, Seeckt and Ludendorff. But, apart, from those differences in the camp of the enemy, the German Communists must not forget that the main thing is to bring the working class to understand what is the essence of the whole affair, namely, that in the fight between capital and labour the leaders of the Social Democratic Party of Germany are irrevocably united with the White generals.

It is not only just now that the German Social Democrats have passed over to the side of capitalism. At bottom, they have always been the class enemies of the proletariat. But it is only now, after they have passed from capitalist democracy to capitalist dictatorship that this has become grossly evident to the masses.

It is this fact which induces us to introduce some modification into the tactics of the United Front as applied to Germany.

No negotiations with the mercenaries of the White dictatorship! This is what every communist in Germany must plainly realise and proclaim loudly and emphatically to the whole German proletariat.

But even more dangerous than the right wing of the Social Democratic Party leaders are the left wing leaders, this last illusion of the deceived workers, these last fig leaves covering the counter-revolutionary policy of Severing, Noske, and Ebert.

The Communist Party of Germany rejects all negotiations not only with the Central Committee of the German Social Democratic Party, but also with the "left" leaders as long as these heroes do not summon up enough manhood to break openly with the counter-revolutionary gang sitting in the Central Committee of the German Social Democratic Party.

The tactic of the United Front to be employed in Germany is now: "Unity from below."

In the first theses of the Executive of the Communist International of December, 1921, we find:

"As a counter-poise to the diplomatic game of the Menshevik leaders, the Russian Bolsheviks put forward the slogan: 'Unity from below!' i.e., the unity of the working classes themselves in the practical fight for the revolutionary demands of the workers against Capitalism. Practice has proved that this was the only correct reply. As a result of this tactic, which was modified according to the circumstances of time and place, a huge section of the best Menshevik workers was gradually won over for Communism!"

The Communist Party of Germany must learn how to realise the slogan of the United Front from below.

A ferment such as had never before existed is going on among the workers who still belong to the German Social Democratic Party. They see the bankruptcy of their leaders and are seeking new paths. There is therefore no reason why we should reject


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 glass and cut his face, but he was a little soldier. His master had said so.

He sprang again, and broke away a part of the sash, which was rotten. One more jump carried him to freedom.

He raced to the top of the hill where they had been the night before. The villages he had noted upon the farther side of the plain were burning. The sky-line was red with the conflagration. The whole plain nearer the river was dotted with men running hither and thither.

Flames belched, and thunder rolled all along the valley, as far as the eye could reach. His master, the Colonel, was somewhere upon the plain, in the storm. They had all been going that way.

He was a little soldier of France. He must follow. So he trotted down the road towards the one bridge that was still


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 standing, across which machine-guns were constantly playing, and over which shells were bursting. It was a terrible storm. Once he whined and started to go back, but something seemed to be calling to him, so he returned and obeyed the summons.

He was a War Dog.

The sun crept through a smoke-filled sky to the zenith.

The sun was very old, but never in its aeons of shining had it seen such a sight in brave France. The plain ran blood—little rivulets in all the low places. The turf was torn with shells.

Dead and dying men were everywhere. For a while the storm stood still, then it began to sway this way and that and finally, thank God, it rolled slowly away to the north and east. The tide had turned.


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 For this day at least, heroic France had been saved.

The sun dropped slowly down the western sky-line to the horizon, but only by the timepiece could you have told that it went. It was hidden from sight by the storm, the smoke, the flames, the dust, and the tears in men's eyes.

The dusk fell. The stars came out. The moon appeared. The cool of evening was over the landscape. The thunder had died away and the hush of night was over the land.

The Colonel lay close to a hedge in a cool, green field. He had been lying there for many hours. He was not dead, but very close to death's door. He lay upon a blanket, with a soldier's knapsack under his head. He had received first aid, but the surgeon had said that he could not


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 afford to waste time on him. He was done for.

The doctor had not thought the Colonel heard, but it was just as well. The Colonel had known all the time. He was trying to summon all his strength for a task he wanted to perform. Presently he felt something warm on his hand. He slowly opened his eyes. His little pal was licking his hand and looking with anxious, fearful eyes into his face.

He put up his hand with a great effort and stroked the dog's head.

"Hello, little soldier," he said weakly. "I had just asked God to send me a messenger and he has sent you. You are the best ever." Then he closed his eyes and remained very still for a long time. The dog licked frantically at his hand. Again he opened his eyes.


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 "Still here, little guardsman?" He reached slowly into his pocket and brought out the bracelet. He kissed it feebly. The dog kissed it also when he held it up. "You must take it back to her," said the soldier. "I will write in a minute." Again he rested. Once more he opened his eyes and smiled at the dog. The dog wagged his tail.

The Colonel reached in his pocket painfully and brought out a pencil and paper. He wrote a little, then rested, then wrote again. Once he slept, and the watching dog thought he would not wake. The doctor might have thought so, too, if he had seen. But life is strong when love calls, and he again resumed the letter. When it was done, he read it slowly to his companion. He barely whispered these words, and often stopped to rest:


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He folded the note and tucked it beneath the dog's collar. Then with his handkerchief wet with his heart's blood, he bound the note firmly to the collar. Next he took off his War Cross, la Croix de


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 Guerre, and clasped the chain about the dog's neck. Then he kissed the dog on his head.

His sight had nearly left him. His senses were reeling. It was only by great will power that the Colonel kept his mind working.

"Home, Pierre," he said sternly, "Home." He patted the place on the collar where the bracelet lay. The dog cocked his ears and listened. "Home," repeated the man of blood and iron. The dog whimpered. "Home," he repeated again, and struck him sharply on the shoulder. The dog whimpered but turned partly about. Again he slapped his shoulder. The Colonel listened intently and smiled as he heard his paws patting slowly down the road. Ordinarily he would have doubted if he would ever find


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 home and his mistress, but he was sure now. God was sending him. All would be well.

With a deep sigh the man lay back upon his knapsack. Once his lips moved, but no words came. Taps sounded, and he slept with the smile of victory on his pale face.

Three days later a footsore, forlorn Airedale limped up the shady avenue to the château on the Loire. Five minutes afterwards the actress's private secretary was reading the Colonel's love note to Madame. When she had finished, she wiped the tears from her eyes, and tied the note carefully back on the collar.

She noted that the War Cross was safe upon the dog's breast. She also noted a bullet hole in one of his ears and blood upon his face.


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 An hour later both secretary and dog were travelling to Paris on the express.

That evening, in her dressing-room, after the first act, with the dusty, dirty Pierre in her lap, the actress read the Colonel's last letter. When it was finished she sat very still until her maid told her to hurry, for the next act had begun. She tucked the note away in her bosom and went upon the stage, to play Juliet as she had never played that love part before.


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the first of October the actress concluded her rehearsals in Paris and went back to the château for a week. There had been delays in booking her American engagements, and also in getting passage across. All the westernbound steamers were crowded with fleeing Americans, eager to get home before it was too late.

Once back at the château, there was great commotion. There were countless new dresses and costumes for Madame, and a score of trunks were packed. Pierre did not even know what it all meant when he heard Marie telling Louis that Madame


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 was going to take that Satan of a dog with her to America.

"Last year," wailed the tearful Marie, "it was the hateful Pomeranian, and this year it is this little imp. I know he will be the death of me before we get back. He is worse than the other."

Marie wept copiously, and Louis, being a gallant Frenchman, embraced her and Pierre was forgotten.

There was no use of objecting if Madame had made up her mind, so to America the Airedale went, as the most priceless and altogether adorable thing in her possession at the time.

She might love other dogs later on, but now Pierre was enough.

He slept in her stateroom during the voyage, and was waited upon by the disgusted Marie and the other maids, as


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 though he had been the only child of the great lady.

Every one on shipboard petted him, and admired his War Cross, for they soon understood that this was the shortest way to the graces of Madame.

Up and down the country in a luxurious private car the little soldier toured, written up by newspaper reporters and lauded by theatre managers, until he came to the college town of Meadowdale. Here he took matters into his own hands and thereby changed the current of his entire future life.

Pierre was not happy travelling in Madame's private car! Not as happy as he had been with old Jean or with the Colonel. He was fondled and played with by his mistress to his heart's content, and admired by all who visited the car, but that


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 was not enough for him. There was something that should have been in his life which he missed.

He would sit for hours on the leather-covered seat, looking wistfully out of the car window at the wide world through which he was passing so rapidly. He was watching for other dogs, and longing for the freedom of the outer world, that the poorest cur enjoyed more than he.

When he saw other dogs playing boisterously and even indulging in that wonder of wonders, a dog-fight, he would stand with his fore-paws on the window ledge, and bark frantically. The week of strenuous life as a War Dog had spoiled him for the pampered life. If he could only be out in this great free world of dog-fights, what would he not give? His world was bounded by the four walls and the ceiling


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 of the car, but theirs was circumscribed only by the sky, and the four points of the compass.

He always made it a point to sleep with one eye open in the evening, so that he would be ready to receive his mistress when she came in from the theatre about midnight. She was always gay then, and would romp and tumble him about, in a manner that well suited the husky Airedale; but one short romp each evening was not enough for him. He must have life, and more of it, such life as he had had with the Colonel.

This parlor car was stifling him. He must get away.

Probably the move was not premeditated—just an impulse carried out on the spur of the moment; but one morning while Marie had him out on the rear plat-


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 local negotiations and agreements with the German S.D.P. worker wherever we are faced with honest proletarians who are prepared to prove their devotion to the revolution.

The organs of the United Front, the factory councils, control commissions and committees of action, must be so closely interwoven that they finally become the centrally directed apparatus of the proletarian fight for power.

The main estimate of the situation in Germany, which was made in September by the Executive of the Communist International, remains essentially unchanged. The character of the fighting phase which has begun and the main tasks of the Communist Party remain the same. The German Communist Party must not strike from the agenda the question of uprising and the seizure of power. This question must stand before us as urgent and portentous as ever. However great the partial victories of the German counter-revolution, may be they cannot solve any of the crisis problems of capitalist Germany.

Therefore, in view of its experiences gathered during the last few months, the German Communist Party is faced with a number of immediate tasks.

The Party must organise the fights of the proletariat against the abolition of the eight-hour day and of the workers' rights. The Party must unite the unemployed movement organisationally and politically with the movement of the employed workers and thus avoid the danger of the working class being split into starving unemployed and employed workers who still have a crust of bread. The Party will be best able to fulfil this task if it prepares the impending economic struggles in advance, in such a manner that they will not only be directed against reduction of wages, but will also have a political aim as expressed in the slogan: "Work for the unemployed!"

The Party propaganda must be directed towards making the broadest masses conscious that only the dictatorship of the proletariat can save them. This task must be bound up with the aim of politically annihilating the Social Democratic Party. This demands the organisation of the United Front bodies and that every partial struggle should be given a definite aim.

The Party must seek to win over in addition to the industrial proletariat, the rural proletariat, the clerks and officials, the small peasants, and the proletarianised middle classes, and make them the allies of the working class under the hegemony of the revolutionary workers. This can be done by clear and definite agitation, by propaganda on behalf of the economic programme of the German Communist Party, by fighting against still existing remnants of pacifist orientation in the West, by pointing out the national role of the German revolution and the significance of an


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 form of the car combing and brushing "the little Satan," as she called him, quick as a flash he slipped his collar and ran for freedom, just as many another dog, or even a boy, has done, out into the great, wide world.

Poor Marie was panic-stricken when she saw what had happened. Much as she hated Pierre, to have been the innocent cause of his loss filled her with terror.

With tears in her eyes, and with a pounding heart, she took the empty collar and the limp leash to the actress.

The great lady was furious. She stormed and wept, and would have discharged the luckless Marie on the spot, only that she was the best maid she had ever employed and she could not get another readily. She sent her servants chasing through the city, and the evening


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 papers contained advertisements for the Airedale, but all to no purpose. He was lost to them as completely as though the earth had opened and swallowed him.


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Rh marched along. Siegfried, the strong, gan ask: “Who shall now guard here the troop?” Forsooth never did men ride more scathfully to the Saxons. They spake: “Let the valiant Dankwart guard the young upon the way, he is a doughty knight. Thus shall we lose the less through Liudeger’s men. Let him and Ortwin guard the rear.”

“Then I myself will ride,” spake Siegfried, the knight, “and play the outlook toward the foe, until I discover aright where these warriors be.” Quickly the son of fair Siegelind donned his harness. The troop he gave in charge to Hagen, when he would depart, and to Gernot, the valiant man. Thus he rode hence into the Saxon land alone and many a helmet band he cut to pieces on that day. Soon he spied the mighty host that lay encamped upon the plain and far outweighed the forces of his men. Forty thousand or better still there were. Full blithely Siegfried saw this in lofty mood. Meantime a warrior full well arrayed had mounted to the outlook ’gainst the foe. Him Sir Siegfried spied, and the bold man saw him, too. Each began to watch the other in hostile wise. Who it was, who stood on guard, I’ll tell you now; a gleaming shield of gold lay by his hand. It was the good King Liudegast, who was guarding here his band. The noble stranger pricked along in lordly wise.

Now had Sir Liudegast espied him with hostile eye. Into the flanks of their horses they plunged the spurs; with all their might they couched the spears against the shields. At this great fear befell the mighty king. After the thrust the horses carried past each other the royal knights, as though borne upon the wind. With


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hurry-scurry, but it was fun scampering down the street.

He could hear the cries of the distressed Marie, and from scoldings that his mistress had given her on other occasions when she had failed to give him his bath at just the right time, or had not thoroughly combed and brushed his coat, he knew just the kind of a raking-over she would get.

There was not freedom enough on the sidewalk for his newly found ambition so he soon took to the road, which was broad and unobstructed, save for occasional teams and automobiles. This was what he had longed for all through the weary


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 month of their tour. He ran so fast and so furiously for a time that people stopped to look after him, and soon this freak of his nearly cost him his life.

He had reached the outskirts of the city, when, as he turned a corner, he ran almost between the legs of a policeman who was out on a stray dog hunt.

He noticed the Airedale was without collar or master, and, being a dog-hater, he whipped out his revolver and fired at the unsuspecting Pierre.

There was something sinister in the sharp crack of the revolver, and in the whistling bullet that kicked up a shower of sand, so Pierre sprang through an open gateway which happened to be placed just right and disappeared before the policeman could fire again.

It was a narrow escape. Perhaps after


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 all everything was not so fine in this great new world into which he had fled so gleefully.

Two blocks farther on he entered a private yard, and came face to face with one of his own kind.

Now in dog etiquette a strange dog should not enter the yard of another dog until he is invited by that dog. Pierre did not know this law of dogland, as he had always been a law unto himself, and had not associated much with other dogs, since his days at Hotel Bellevue, and then he was too young to have learned the ways of dogs.

So when the big bull wrinkled up his lips and growled, saying in dog language, "See here, my fine fellow, what are you doing in my front yard?" the Airedale mistook the challenge for an invitation to


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 engage the bulldog in battle, or perhaps as a personal insult.

Here then was the thing for which he had been looking so long, a genuine fight; so he went in like a little fury.

Soon his excited yelping and snarling brought half a dozen eager boys to the scene, and they all with great partizanship began cheering on the white bulldog, though he really needed no encouragement, but went at his adversary in a very business-like manner. He did not bark nor growl, but steadily advanced upon the Airedale, unmindful of the other's constant snapping, waiting for the opening that he wanted.

The bulldog was much heavier than Pierre, and also an old fighter. Although the Airedale fought furiously, advancing and retreating like a flash, and punished


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 the bull freely, yet he was no match for him. Almost before he knew it, the older dog had him by the throat and was slowly shutting off his wind. Struggle as he would, he could not free himself.

His eyes bulged and his breath came in wheezy gasps.

"Wow, wow," he had not imagined a dog-fight was a serious thing like this. He had always considered it a, rather strenuous rough and tumble that usually ended amicably.

Soon the world began to grow dark, and he slumped down in a limp heap.

Just in the nick of time, when the victor had almost choked the last spark of life out of him, a humane man came to the rescue with a pinch of snuff, which he blew into the nostrils of the bulldog. This caused him to loose his hold and sneeze violently,


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 and in that instant Pierre's rescuer dragged him from the bull's jaws. Then he had a boy bring out a pail of water which he threw over the Airedale, that soon sat up and blinked. In five minutes' time he was as good as new, but he had found out all he wanted to know about dog-fights for that day.

"But, Papa," protested one of the boys, "he came into our yard and pitched into Tige."

"He's nothing but a puppy," replied the man. "And he is such a beauty I could not let Tige kill him. He will know better next time."

Pierre saw that the man was a friend, so he went over to him and licked his hand, as a token of friendship and gratitude.

Then it was that the man noted the


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 chain about his neck and the War Cross. "What have we here?" he asked, putting his hand to the Airedale's neck. Pierre backed away. Perhaps they wanted to rob him of his precious chain and cross, but the man coaxed and talked to him reassuringly and was soon able to examine the war trophy.

"La Croix de Guerre," he read. "Boys, this dog is a war hero. He is wearing the War Cross of France."

Pierre was much pleased that they had discovered his importance and wagged his tail freely, while the boys all crowded about him to admire the cross.

He would have liked to stay with the good man notwithstanding the fact that the bulldog glowered at him out of the corner of his eye, but the man and boys soon drove him out of the yard by throw-


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 ing sticks at him, and he heard the man say, "He will soon go home if we do not pet him."

Home, why, yes, he would go home to-morrow, but for the present he must see more of this great world, even though it was rather strenuous. Soon he espied a dog running with a team. What fun that must be! So he scurried after them and joined the dog under the vehicle. But the dog growled savagely at him and drove him away.

The team must belong to this dog, just as the yard had belonged to the bulldog. Well, he would hunt up a wagon for himself. So the first team that chanced to drive by he ran barking after and took his place under the wagon, just behind the horses' heels as he had seen the other dog do.


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 alliance between the German Soviet Republic and Soviet Russia, and by determined and indefatigable work in the organisation of the control commissions and similar organs of the revolutionary movement.

The work of organisation within and without the Party must go hand in hand with agitation and propaganda. The German Communist Party must be not only a good propaganda party, but also a good fighting party. The work of arming the workers and of technically preparing for the decisive struggle must be carried on with tenacity. The proletarian "centuries" must be organised in fact and not merely on paper, and must be supported by the sympathy of the broad masses of the workers, which can only be won by the active leadership on the part of the C.P.G. in all struggles and actions of the proletariat. Only when the working masses can count upon the protection of the "centuries" in their demonstrations and strikes and in all their conflicts, will the "centuries" receive the hearty support of the masses in their arming and training and in securing information as to the forces of the enemy.

The pre-requisite for all this is that the Party should make a thorough utilisation of all its experiences. Every remnant of democratic illusions and of the notion within the Party that the German Social Democratic Party, or groups of this party which are ideologically and organisationally under its influence, can as such lead revolutionary struggles, must be rooted out. It must be hammered into the heads of the members that the German Communist Party before the victory of the proletarian revolution, is the party of the uprising, the only party for destroying the capitalist system, and that in all the partial struggles its work can only be revolutionary if it aims at smashing the state apparatus of the bourgeoisie, keeps constantly in view the aim of stabilising the dictatorship of the proletariat.

The Communist Party is the only revolutionary party, it is strong enough to prepare for and achieve the victory of the masses of the proletariat against all other parties—this must be the firm conviction of every Party member.

In order to bring about this orientation within the Party, the C.P.G. must openly discuss throughout its membership the experiences it has passed through. The Party must learn how to carry on discussions without weakening its power of action. In order to consolidate its whole power of action it must, in spite of all difficulties and its position of illegality, not neglect to clear up all its differences and put an end to discussions at a Party Congress.

The Communist International absolutely demands that the unity of the Party should be maintained. The Executive of the Communist International calls upon the whole membership of the German Communist Party to do everything in its power to that


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 My, but it was fun, scampering along behind the horse, with the great round wheels rolling along beside one! This was life! This was the world—the real thing.

All went well for a mile or two, until the team stopped and the man hitched the horse to a post and went into the house.

Then poor unsophisticated Pierre went up and smelled the horse's heels. He wanted to make friends.

It was lucky the horse was only nervous, and not vicious, but even then it was bad enough, for the kick that Pierre got rolled him entirely out from under the wagon, and so badly lamed his shoulder that at first he thought it was broken and could not be used. So he ran ki-yi-ing down a side-street, while some boys who had been watching laughed, and thought it a great joke.


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 For the rest of the day Pierre went on three legs, and was a very sorrowful little dog.

His next adventure was even more disheartening, for by it he almost lost faith in the soldier-men who had always been such good friends to him.

About the middle of the afternoon he discovered a road leading out of the city. It did not seem to be as much used as the others, so he followed it. Soon it brought him out upon a hill where he could look down into a broad green meadow. Here a wonderful sight met his eyes. The meadow was covered with the small houses that the young Jean men always lived in. With a glad yelp he started for the soldiers' camp.

The local State Guards were camping upon the fair ground for three days sub-


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 sequent to their departure for training-camp.

Pierre trotted into the midst of the camp, head erect, tail up.

This was great. This was home. Perhaps he would find the Colonel.

Half-way down the regimental street, a fine, tempting odor came to his nostrils. Then he remembered he was very hungry, so he started for the mess tent. The cook was busy in the back of the tent and did not see him enter. The first thing the hungry dog's eyes fell upon was a ham on the table near the entrance.

Without saying as much as by your leave, he sprang upon the bench and began pulling down the ham. Just then the cook looked around.

Bang, whang, clatter! Ki-yi! Ki-yi! The cook had flung a kettle cover with


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 such good aim that he had hit the luckless Pierre on the head.

He fled down the regimental street followed by missiles and curses.

Two other dogs who had seen him running joined in the chase and he was run out of camp in disgrace.

Pierre was astonished, angry and disgusted. These soldier-men were surely different from those he had known. He, a War Dog, driven out of camp like an ordinary thief.

By night-time he was ravenously hungry and cold, and it was beginning to rain.

A couple of raw eggs and some steak would taste good. He had seen about enough of the world, anyway. He would go back to his mistress. What a scare he had given her!

So he threaded his way carefully on


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 three legs back to the switchyard, where his mistress's private car had stood in the morning. He found the place all right, for he had all the keen instinct of a dog, but the car was gone.

Ah, well, it did not matter much. The road was very plain. Two long sticks and a lot of short ones running across showed the way. He and his mistress always followed just such a road as this when they travelled in the great car. So he started limping down the track on three legs.

For perhaps three miles he followed the straight plain road and then he came to a place where it was very queer. The road with the two long sticks and the cross sticks still lay ahead of him, but it was very high up, and there was a great expanse of water beneath.


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 He sat down on his stump of a tail and looked at it for a spell. It looked rather scary, but he was very hungry, and of a sudden a great longing for the lady whom two continents admired began tugging at his dog heart. So he got up and limped on to the railroad bridge.

It made him afraid to look down at the water when he was out in the middle of the bridge, so he looked ahead and limped along as fast as he could.

When he had reached the middle of the bridge, where it was very high and was wondering whether he had better turn back or go forward, he heard a thunderous noise behind, and looking over his shoulder saw the great shrieking, rumbling thing that always drew his mistress's car coming on to the end of the bridge.

It came straight at him rumbling, roar-


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 ing and hissing. He started to go forward as fast as he could, but it was not fast enough, and almost before he realized, it was upon him.

He gave one frightened glance over his shoulder, and another down into the river, then jumped.

Thirty feet below he struck the water with a mighty splash, and went under so far that it seemed as though his lungs would burst before he came to the surface. But presently up he came, blowing and sputtering.

"Did he drown?" I hear my reader ask.

Oh, no! What a foolish question. Not he, for he was a dog.

He had the natural instincts of an animal, and in some ways man is the most helpless of all the animal kingdom.

He merely walked ashore in the water.


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 That is what it seemed like to him, but it was really swimming.

All his kind since the first dog had known how to swim, and he was not such a fool as to drown.

When he scrambled up on the bank and shook himself free of water, he was probably the most sorrowful, water-soaked, altogether lonesome little dog in the whole world. He wanted his home, he wanted his mistress, he even wanted Marie; but he had lost them all.


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night Pierre dug into a corn shock and was very glad of the protection of the coarse corn-stalks. It was now October and the nights were rather chilly. Pierre, being a pampered pet, felt the cold much more than the ordinary dog. At the château he had slept upon a soft moquette rug, or on the actress's own bed. Even in the private car he had possessed a velvet rug; and now to be thrust out into the cold world made him shiver.

He could not get to sleep for some time. This life was not like anything that he had ever known. It was more like the rough life that he had led with the Colonel. But even that was different. The Colo-


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 nel had always petted him, and that was what he missed now. It was not so much that his bed was uncomfortable, as it was that his dog heart craved love.

Love had always been lavished upon him even from his puppy days with old Jean. He had not known then what a priceless thing it was.

The following morning he crawled out very early. In the private car he had been in the habit of sleeping late, just as the actress did. But it was cold on this October morning, so he crawled out of his cornstalk bed and ran for half a mile to get warm.

There was frost on the dead grass. It was white and sparkling and very cold. Pierre had never seen any frost in sunny France.

First the Airedale slaked his thirst at


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 a brook and that made him feel better. Then it was that he noted that he was prodigiously hungry. My, but what would he not give to be back in the car eating his porterhouse steak! Wow, wouldn't a raw egg taste good!

So Pierre started on a foraging expedition. He must remember some of his sorry lessons of the day before. He must not go into another dog's yard unless he was invited. He must not run after another dog's team. He must keep away from soldiers, because the soldiers here were not like the young Jean men in France, nor like his good master, the Colonel. Instead of petting you, they threw things at you.

He must not get on that strange straight road where his mistress's car travelled. If he did, the shrieking monster would