After the taking of subscriptions, men in various parts of the hall began
making suggestions for added features for the great day. To some of the
speakers the crowd listened respectfully, at others they hooted. An old
man with a grey beard told a long rambling story of a Fourth-of-July
celebration of his boyhood. When voices interrupted he protested and shook
his fist in the air, pale with indignation.

"Oh, sit down, old daddy," shouted Freedom Smith and a murmur of applause
greeted this sensible suggestion.

Another man got up and began to talk. He had an idea. "We will have," he
said, "a bugler mounted on a white horse who will ride through the town at
dawn blowing the reveille. At midnight he will stand on the steps of the
town hall and blow taps to end the day."

The crowd applauded. The idea had caught their fancy and had instantly
taken a place in their minds as one of the real events of the day.

Again Windy McPherson emerged from the crowd at the back of the hall.
Raising his hand for silence he told the crowd that he was a bugler, that
he had been a regimental bugler for two years during the Civil War. He
said that he would gladly volunteer for the place.

The crowd shouted and John Telfer waved his hand. "The white horse for
you, McPherson," he said.

Sam McPherson wriggled along the wall and out at the now unbolted door. He
was filled with astonishment at his father's folly, and was still more
astonished at the folly of these other men in accepting his statement and