They were all there, and there were lots of soldiers and horses and wagons filled with flowers to put on the graves of the soldiers, who were so brave that they didn’t mind going to war to fight for their country, though war is a terrible thing.

Then the march began, and Uncle Wiggily and Percival stepped out as brave as anyone in all the parade.  Oh, how fine they looked! and, when they marched past, all the animal people, and some real boys and girls, and papas and mammas clapped their hands and cried “Hurrah!” at the sight of the old gentleman rabbit limping along on his crutch, with the dog-soldier marching beside him.

“Who knows,” whispered Percival to Uncle Wiggily, “who knows but what you may discover your fortune to-day?”

“Indeed I may,” answer Uncle Wiggily.  “Who knows?”

Well, that was a fine parade.  But something happened.  I was afraid it would, but I’ll tell you all about it, and you can see for yourself whether or not I was right.

All of a sudden one man, with a big horn—­a horn large enough to put a loaf of mother’s bread down inside the noisy end—­all of a sudden this man blew a terrible blast—­“Umpty-umpty-Umph!  Umph!” My, what a noise he made on that horn.

Now, right in front of this man was a little boy-duck riding on a pony.  Yes, you’ve guessed who he was—­he was Jimmy Wibblewobble.  And when that man blew the loud blast, the pony was frightened, and ran away with Jimmie on his back.

Faster and faster ran the pony, and Jimmie Wibblewobble clung to his back, fearing every moment he would be thrown off.  In and out among the people and animals in the parade, in and out among trolley cars and automobiles, in and out, and from one side to another of the street ran the frightened pony.

“Oh, poor Jimmie will be killed!” cried Percival.

“No, he will not, for I will save him!” shouted Uncle Wiggily.  So that brave rabbit ran right out to where he saw Munchie Trot, the little pony boy.

“Let me jump on your back, Munchie,” said Uncle Wiggily, “and then we’ll race after that runaway pony and grab off poor Jimmie.  And run as fast as you can, Munchie!”

“I certainly will!” cried Munchie.  So Uncle Wiggily got on Munchie’s back, and away they started after the runaway pony.

Faster and faster ran Munchie, and by this time the other little horsie was getting tired.  Jimmie was still clinging to his back, and asking him not to run so fast, but the pony was so frightened he didn’t listen to the duck-boy.

Then, just as he was going to run into a hot peanut wagon, and maybe toss Jimmie off into the red-hot roaster, all at once Uncle Wiggily, on Munchie’s back, galloped up alongside of the runaway pony.  And as quick as you can drink a glass of lemonade, Uncle Wiggily grabbed Jimmie up on Munchie’s back beside him, and so saved the duck-boy’s life.  And then the runaway pony stopped short, all of a sudden, and didn’t bump into the hot peanut wagon, after all, and he was sorry he had run away, and scared folks.