pipe and two or three teeth out of his mouth and returned him to
France by the next boat.

* * * * *

His groom, beaming welcome, met him at the railhead with the horses.

"Hello, old thing, cheerio and all the rest of it," Huntsman whinnied
lovingly.

Miss Muffet rubbed her velvet muzzle against his pocket. "Brought a
lump of sugar for a little girl?" she rumbled.

He mounted her and headed across country, Miss Muffet pig-jumping and
capering to show what excellent spirits she enjoyed.

Two brigades of infantry were under canvas in Mud Gully, their cook
fires winking like red eyes. The guards clicked to attention and
slapped their butts as the Babe went by. A subaltern bobbed out of a
tent and shouted to him to stop to tea. "We've got cake," he lured,
but the Babe went on.

A red-hat cantered across the stubble before him waving a friendly
crop, "Pip" Vibart the A.P.M. homing to H.Q. "Evening, boy!" he
holloaed; "come up and Bridge to-morrow night," and swept on over the
hillside. A flight of aeroplanes, like flies in the amber of sunset,
droned overhead _en route_ for Hunland. The Babe waved his official
cap at them: "Good hunting, old dears."

They had just started feeding up in the regimental lines when he