“Oh, it’s H-Hero!” she cried, with chattering teeth.  “How did he get here?” But no one understood her question.  The faces she looked into, while beaming with friendly interest, were all foreign.  The eager exclamations on all sides were uttered in a foreign tongue.  There was no one to take her home, and in her fright she could not remember the name of their hotel.  But in the midst of her confusion a hearty sentence in English sounded in her ear, and a strong arm caught her up in a fatherly embrace.  It was the Major who came pushing through the crowd to reach her.  Her grandfather himself could not have been more welcome just at that time, and her tears came fast when she found herself in his friendly shelter.  The shock had been a terrible one.

“Come, dear child!” he exclaimed, gently, patting her shoulder.  “Courage!  We are almost at the hotel.  See, it is on the corner, there.  Your father and mother will soon be here.”

Wiping her eyes, he led her across the street, explaining as he went how it happened that he and the dog were on the street when she passed.  They had been in the gardens all morning and were going home to lunch, when they heard the clatter of the runaway far down the street.  The Major could not see who was in the carriage, only that it appeared to be a child.  He was too old a man, and with his one arm too helpless to attempt to stop it, but he remembered that Hero had once shared the training of some collies for police service, before it had been decided to use him as an ambulance dog.  They were taught to spring at the bridles of escaping horses.

“I was doubtful if Hero remembered those early lessons,” said the Major, “but I called out to him sharply, for the love of heaven to stop it if he could, and that instant he was at the horse’s head, hanging on with all his might.  Bravo, old fellow!” he continued, turning to the dog as he spoke.  “We are proud of you this day!”

They were in the corridor of the hotel now, and the Little Colonel, kneeling beside Hero and putting her arms around his neck, finished her sobbing with her fair little face laid fondly against his silky coat.

“Oh, you deah, deah old Hero,” she said.  “You saved me, and I’ll love you fo’ evah and evah!”

The crowd was still in front of the hotel, and the corridor full of excited servants and guests, when Mr. and Mrs. Sherman hurried in.  They had taken the first carriage they could hail and driven as fast as possible in the wake of the runaway.  Mrs. Sherman was trembling so violently that she could scarcely stand, when they reached the hotel.  The clerk who ran out to assure them of the Little Colonel’s safety was loud in his praises of the faithful St. Bernard.

Hero had known many masters.  He had been taught to obey many voices.  Many hands had fed and fondled him, but no hand had ever lain quite so tenderly on his head, as the Little Colonel’s.  No one had ever looked into his eyes so gratefully as she, and no voice had ever thrilled him with as loving tones as hers, as she knelt there beside him, calling him all the fond endearing names she knew.  He understood far better than if he had been human, that she loved him.  Eagerly licking her hands and wagging his tail, he told her as plainly as a dog can talk that henceforth he would be one of her best and most faithful of friends.