He knew quite well that General Funston, in his weakened condition, would be incapable of carrying an infant very far.

“Oh, I have my orderly with me,” responded the doughty General, and by this time he had begun to get a firm grasp on the mattress while behind him hurried a soldier, shorter even than his chief, but with the same look of dauntless determination in his eye.

In spite of the straining on the rafters, Mr. Taft burst out laughing and flatly refused to let them try to move him. Fortunately for them all the upward jerk necessary to bring down the roof didn’t occur, so there is no way of telling whether or not, for once in his life, General Funston started something that he couldn’t finish.