At the interview Clara Barton thus assured Tewfik Pasha: “We have no newspaper correspondent, and I promise you I will not write a book on Turkey. What we see and hear will be confidential—not repeated.” But she didn’t keep faith with the Government—she reported on the dogs. Dogs in Constantinople are held sacred, but not because decorated with a brassard they serve in Red Cross work or otherwise are useful. The streets and plazas day and night are filled with dogs, colonies of dogs. Fond of dogs, she enjoyed telling this story. About to be overpowered by other dogs the Turkish dog flops over on his back, his feet in air to serve as the dog’s Red Cross flag, over a hospital. In the “hospital” he remains until there is an opportunity of escape when, without so much as “by your leave,” he invalids himself home. The British Legation had a blooded rat terrier, also _sacred_. By chance the terrier slipped out of the yard. Unsuspecting he was “ambushed” and, not knowing Turkish dog strategy, was foully slain. The secretary, in righteous wrath, forthwith imported from England “Bull Brindle,” of a famous fighting breed. The British “warrior” also strolled out on the plaza, _but not by chance_. A colony of several hundred dogs, with confused noises as terrifying as of a “pack of coyotes” hunting prey, massed an attack on the lone “Britisher.” Victory this time was not with the largest battalions. Bull terrier was killing mongrels without mercy or shame, and with as much ease as the terrier had killed rats, and so continuing until four score or more lay dead on the field. As ranged Achilles in his fury through the field From side to side, and everywhere o’ertook His victims, and earth was dark with blood. _By chance_, through an opening in the walled fence of the embassy, the secretary was an eye-witness. The natives in numbers, aroused, watched the uneven contest but no one dared to lay hands on the “achilles.” Alarmed over the possible consequences to himself, the secretary rushed to the scene, grabbed Brindle by the collar, led him to the embassy, chained him. A diplomat, the secretary returned to the plaza—explained—expressed regrets—almost _heartbroken_, apologized, but to Miss Barton he confidentially said: “That’s one time I got even with the unspeakable Turk.”