"Pinch him nothing. I'm no goat-robber," was Bob's indignant retort. "I'm going to do the square thing by Gaston. See that house down the road? Well, I'm going to tie him up and lead him to it. Bobby has a nice piece of string in his pocket. I'll bet the folks down there know his history. If he's a orfin, then Bobby will be his foster-papa and train Gaston to charge on you fellows if you ever get too fresh. Won't you, Gaston?" Gaston, it appeared, was already about to get busy. His first surprise at the invasion having vanished, he lowered his head and dashed at his admirers with an energy that sent them scattering. "He's got the true war spirit," yelled Bob. "Now watch me tame him!" Bob agilely circled the belligerent Gaston. The goat had stopped after making the charge to reflect upon his next course of action. Pouncing upon the surprised animal, Bob grasped it by the horns. To his delight, it meekly stood still, whereupon he relaxed one hand from a horn and promptly fished a piece of tough string from his trousers' pocket. An instant later, Gaston was being led, an acquiescent captive, from the field by his beaming master. Prudence, however, warned Bob's bunkies to walk in Gaston's rear. Duly arriving at the house Bob had pointed out, he consigned his new pet to Roger's care, and went boldly up to the door in quest of information. Watching him, his comrades saw him ushered inside the house by a pretty young French girl. Ten minutes later he emerged, grinning like a Cheshire cat. At his heels trooped two or three children, the girl and an old man, all of whom made bobbing little bows to _Les Americains_. "He's mine!" called out Bob jubilantly. "I bought him for two plunks. He's an old-timer, and not very popular with the family. He's going to billet here, though, while I'm in the trenches. I'm going to pay for his keep and be a father to him when I'm not on duty. If I get plugged the first whack, then somebody else can have my goat. But as long as Bobby's in good health, Gaston's going to have a friend. Believe me!" CHAPTER X THE LAST LAP Though the shadow of the trenches hung over them, Bob's latest acquisition put his bunkies in a decidedly lightsome mood. After bidding a pleasant good-bye to Gaston's keepers, and giving the redoubtable Gaston himself a fairly wide berth, the five Brothers wandered on through the village. It was not yet three o'clock, and they were not due back to camp until four o'clock. Dusk would see them under full pack again, and ready to take the road to the firing line. The advance guard, composed of military police, were to start at least two hours ahead of the main detachment. They would not march in a body, but would straggle along by ones and twos, lest some lurking enemy along the road might learn from their numbers that a new army was soon to be on its way to the front-line trenches.