that had become
partly unwound and gave the appearance of having a tail. And nearby was
a large bass drum with a hole through one head. A fleeting glance and it
was gone. But a look at her husband told her that he too had seen it.

At this point the carriage became hopelessly involved in a jam of
vehicles and stopped. As it stood there the downpour moderated, and
finally settled into a gentle shower. And just before it started on
again shouts and laughter could be distinctly heard. A most unseemly
proceeding for the return from a funeral, and on Decoration Day of all
days!

Mrs. Cane leaned out and looked forward, but she could distinguish
nothing but a hooting, howling mob that seemed to be crowding round the
hearse.

At length the carriage moved; and as it caught up with the hearse she
beheld to her horror the cause of the shocking levity. Inside the hearse
was an imitation lion pacing restlessly back and forth, as it lashed its
bass drumstick tail in evident anger. There was something strangely
familiar about the beast, and especially about the tawny mane of
foxlike fur that was wrapped around its neck.

Suddenly the creature whirled about--and Mrs. Cane found herself looking
directly into one of Sube's best lion-faces. She fell back into the
cushions with a gasp. Then, perceiving that her guest was looking the
other way and had not yet seen the horrible sight, she clutched her
husband's arm.

"Drive on!" she pleaded desperately. "Drive on quickly!"

"But how can I?" he returned with a gesture of futility.

At that instant the colonel caught sight of the lion. His mouth fell
open. He drew back in surprise. Then he did something that he had not
done in years. He put aside all the care and sadness of the world; he
surrendered what little dignity the downpour had left him, and throwing
back his head, he bellowed with laughter.

A sudden shift in the jam of vehicles let the hearse move out of their
sight, but the colonel followed it with his eyes as far as he could see
it, leaning out of the carriage for one last look, and roaring and
chortling until he was weak.

By the time the carriage had reached the Cane homestead Mr. Cane was
beaming, in spite of his disheveled appearance.

"Yes, sir," he boasted, "that boy of mine is certainly a skeezix! Great
sense of humor; he can get fun out of anything--even a funeral! What do
you think of that boy of mine anyway, Colonel?"

"_Ours!_" Mrs. Cane corrected. "_Our_