"Yes, but not with the van and my old comrades," said Phil. "The best I can do there is to become a foreman in charge of a number of cages. I mean to enlist and try my fortune in the army." "Bless the lad!" exclaimed the sergeant-major. "He's as long-headed as a lawyer, and always thinking of the future. But you couldn't do better than that. Keep it always in your mind's eye and you'll get on. Now, what regiment will you go for? I'm from the Guards, and of course I say there's none to beat them. It's the truth too, as others can tell you." "I've been thinking it over," Phil answered, "and I have decided to become a Grenadier--one of the old Grenadiers." The sergeant-major's features flushed, and he looked not a little flattered, for he too was one of the Grenadier Guards, and he knew it was because of his connection with it that Phil had decided to enlist in that regiment. "You couldn't do better, sir," he exclaimed, "and what's more, by joining them I'll be able to make your start easier. I am not so old but that some of the non-commissioned officers--N.C.O.'s as we call 'em--remember Owen Williams. I've many a pal there, and as soon as you're ready I'll take you right along to the barracks and see you 'listed myself." A day was fixed, and having learned a few more details, Phil returned to his friends. The latter were genuinely sorry to hear that he was to go, and of all, Jim was perhaps the saddest. "No one to cook the breakfast no more, now you're off, young un," he said, with a ring of true regret in his voice. "Never mind; that chap Tony's come back, and I'll turn him on to the job. If he kicks there'll be trouble, and then I'll do as I promised yer." But Jim was disappointed. For three weeks Tony had lain in bed at a hospital, and for the first six days it was a matter of life and death. The bear's claws had lacerated his scalp so severely that it was a wonder he survived. But by dint of careful nursing he recovered, and on the very day that Phil had been to see the sergeant-major he returned to the menagerie. But he was a changed man. A double escape from death had cured him of his rowdiness, and when he came towards Phil shamefacedly, offering his hand as though he could not expect it to be shaken, he was filled with deep gratitude for the truly gallant deed that had saved his life. Phil clutched the hand extended and shook it heartily. "Ah, sir!" Tony blurted out, with tears in his eyes, "I've been a real brute, and no one knows it better nor myself. But yer saved my life, Phil Western, yer did, and I ain't ungrateful. If you'd left me to be torn to pieces it was only what I deserved, for we wasn't the best of friends, and a chap as can torment a dumb animal must expect something back in the end. And now, sir, I hear you're going, and if you'll let me I'll come too." "Nonsense, Tony!" Phil exclaimed. "You've got a good job, and had better stick to it."