the general fumed and fussed over the delay caused by the broken wheel.

“it’s just one thing after another,” he grumbled. “if it isn’t one thing it’s something else.”

“well, general, it won’t do a bit of good to worry,” said tess bone, one of the red cross nurses. “we’ll have to do the best we can and that’s all anybody can do—even a teenie weenie can’t do more.”

“of course, of course,” answered the general, as he paced up and down before his tiny tent. “i know it doesn’t do a bit of good to worry, but we must hurry if we ever expect to rescue the lady of fashion and the poet.”

the anxious general had the army up before daylight the next morning. they ate a hurried breakfast and were well on the way before the sun came up. in fact, the dunce marched nearly an hour before he was fully awake.

the big rain of the day before had left many puddles along the way and the little army often had to splash through them.

with the help of the scouts, the army was able to find the best roads, for the indian and the cowboy, mounted on mice, rode ahead and picked out the best path. the turk was of much help, too, in picking out the best roads, for he was able to see a great distance from the back of his bird airplane.

“general,” said the cowboy one afternoon as he rode up to the commander of the little army, “i believe there’s more trouble ahead of us.”

“what!” shouted the general. “great guns, now what’s the trouble?”

“well, sir, there’s a stream of water and i’m afraid we’ll be forced to march a long way out of our road before we can find a place shallow enough to cross. i talked to a field mouse who seemed to be familiar with the country, and he said there was no place where the stream could be crossed for many miles in each direction.”

“i hope, sir, you were careful not to say where you were going,” said the general. “we are now nearing the land of our enemies and we are liable to meet with a spy at almost any time.”

“i was mighty careful, sir, and told him nothing that might be used against us,” answered the cowboy.

the general ordered the turk to fly up and down the stream on a scouting trip while the army stopped for lunch. late in the afternoon the turk reported to the general that they would have to take a two days’ march out of their road to a place where the stream could be crossed. the army pushed on and shortly after dark stopped near the stream, where camp was made for the night.

the next morning the doctor, the old soldier, paddy pinn and the general gathered on the banks of the raging stream to see what plan could be made for crossing the water.

the banks were very steep and the water was quite too swift to ford, although the stream was only two feet wide (in our measurement). it was finally determined that there was nothing to do but build a bridge.

“we can throw a sort of suspension bridge across the stream,” said the old soldier, who was quite an engineer. “it will take us about a day and a half to do the work, but we will save time, for it would take fully two or three days to march to a place where we could cross without a bridge.”

the war council thought the old soldier’s idea a good one and the general ordered the men to start work at once. pulleys and ropes were brought out of the army wagons and some big logs for supports were cut from a bush near by. several cattails, which grew near the stream, were sawed up into logs for the floor of the bridge. the bird airplane carried the workmen and ropes to the other side of the stream, where work was soon started on a bridge fifty-two teenie weenie feet long.