"We'll sit down here and wait. We'll see the head of the
procession come in sight away off yonder pretty soon, now."

Says I,--

"It's pretty lonesome, Sandy; I reckon there's a hitch somewheres.
Nobody but just you and me--it ain't much of a display for the
barkeeper."

"Don't you fret, it's all right. There'll be one more gun-fire--
then you'll see.

In a little while we noticed a sort of a lightish flush, away off
on the horizon.

"Head of the torchlight procession," says Sandy.

It spread, and got lighter and brighter: soon it had a strong
glare like a locomotive headlight; it kept on getting brighter and
brighter till it was like the sun peeping above the horizon-line at
sea--the big red rays shot high up into the sky.

"Keep your eyes on the Grand Stand and the miles of seats--sharp!"
says Sandy, "and listen for the gun-fire."

Just then it burst out, "Boom-boom-boom!" like a million
thunderstorms in one, and made the whole heavens rock. Then there
was a sudden and awful glare of light all about us, and in that
very instant every one of the millions of seats was occupied, and
as far as you could see, in both directions, was just a solid pack