he died
while you were still a baby. If she were living, I would not hint of
this to you, but--_I_ go to South Africa with the very first Canadian
contingent. You are the best bugler in Canada. What do _you_ want to
do?"

For an instant Billy was speechless. His nerves shook with a boy's first
fear of battle. His old gun-shyness had him in its grip. Then his heart
swelled with the pride aroused by his father's words; he raised his
head, his chin, his eyes, and suddenly his look caught a picture hanging
in its deep gold frame on the wall. It was a picture of a little old
gray-haired woman--a sad-faced old woman dressed in black and wearing a
widow's cap. It was a picture of Queen Victoria.

Then Billy's voice came.

"I can't remember ever having heard my mother speak, but"--pointing to
the picture--"_she_ has been calling me ever since the war began. I know
I'm only a big kid, and I can't fight with the men, but I _can_ bugle,
and, Dad, you and I'll go together."

Once more they looked at each other as man to man. Then Billy's father
shook hands with him--a hard, true, clinging shake--and, without a
word, left the room.

Oh, what a day it was for the little city when the picked men of the
regiment marched out in their khaki uniforms, halting at the railway
station for all the last good-byes before the train pulled them out
eastward, to board the transport ships that swung so impatiently in
Halifax harbor! The whole town was at the station, every boy in the
place shouting and cheering and wishing he were grown up, were clad in
khaki, were shouldering an Enfield rifle, and were going to fight for
the queen. When it was all over Bert and Tommy stood watching with
straining eyes the fast disappearing train, handkerchiefs and caps and
hands were waving from every window, faint snatches of cheers, and the
tune of "The Girl I Left Behind Me," came floating backward. But the
boys only saw a small blotch of khaki color on the rear platform of the
train, and a brilliant point of light where the golden Canada sun flung
back its reflections from a well-polished bugle. They watched that light
growing less and less in the distance, until it finally faded like a
setting star.

* * * * * * * *

Weeks afterwards the newspapers rang with the glory of it all. The fame
and the bravery of the Canadian regiments at the terrible battle of
Paardeburg was known to all the world. Bert and Tommy and the rest of
the boys devour