You call it a lot of nicknames—“Babs” and “Bibs” and “Viddles” and “Vee”; you whack at it playfully, and it whacks you back. [Illustration: Distinctive Pictures Corporation. At the same moment a martial flourish, proceeding from cow's horns, tin canisters filled with stones, bladders and cat-gut, with other sprightly, instruments, was struck up, and, enlivened by this harmonious accompaniment, the troop reached its destination in the best possible spirits for an encounter. You’re neither of you any longer under arrest. "I have sworn to see him hanged," he said, "and nothing shall keep me away— nothing, by——.
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