rom Baltimore. I
drove the wagon for Mr. Bishop, the canary bird and gold fish man."

All that had happened to this canary bird fancier and gold fish tamer
was that he had killed two Germans and captured three before they got
him.

Among those who came to visit us in that ward, there appeared one day a
man I had not seen in many years. When I knew him last he had been a
sport-loving fellow-student of mine at college and one of the fastest,
hardest-fighting ends our 'Varsity football squad ever had. Knowing this
disposition of the man, I was quite surprised to see on the sleeve of
his khaki service uniform the red shield and insignia of the Knights of
Columbus.

I was well aware of the very valuable work done by this institution
wherever American soldiers are in France, but I could not imagine this
former college chum of mine being engaged in such work instead of being
in the service. He noticed my silence and he said, "Gib, do you remember
that game with the Indians on Thanksgiving Day?"

"Yes," I replied, "they hurt your leg that day."

"Yes," replied my old college mate, whom we might as well call MacDougal
inasmuch as that was not his name. "Yes, they took that leg away from me
three years later."

I knew then why MacDougal was with the K. C. and I wondered what
service he would perform in our ward in the name of his organisation. I
soon found out. Without introduction, MacDougal proceeded to the bedside
of Dan Bailey, the Infantryman with one leg off, who was lying in a bed
on my right. MacDougal walked back and forth two or three times past the
foot of Bailey's bed.

"How does that look?" he said to Bailey. "Do I walk all right?"

"Looks all right to me," replied Bailey; "what's the matter with you?"

MacDougal then began jumping, skipping and hopping up and down and
across the floor at the foot of Bailey's bed. Finishing these exercises
breathlessly, he again addressed himself to the sufferer with one leg.

"How did that look?" he said. "Did that look all right?"

"I don't see anything the matter with you," replied Bailey, "unless it
is that you're in the wrong ward."

Then MacDougal stood close by Bailey's bedside where the boy with one
leg could watch him closely. MacDougal took his cane and struck his own
right leg a resounding whack. And we all knew by the sound of the blow
that the leg he struck was wooden.

In that peculiar way did MacDougal bring into the life of Dan Bailey new
interest and