Sam's heart beat so that he was hard put to it to keep back the tears from
his eyes. He thought with a gasp of the days of anxiety that had passed
when the new bugle had not come from the Chicago company, and in
retrospect he suffered again the horror of the days of waiting. It had
been all important. He could not blame his father for raving and shouting
about the house, he himself had felt like raving, and had put another
dollar of his savings into telegrams before the treasure was finally in
his hands. Now, the thought that it might not have come sickened him, and
a little prayer of thankfulness rose from his lips. To be sure one might
have been secured from a nearby town, but not a new shining one to go with
his father's new blue uniform.

A cheer broke from the crowd massed along the street. Into the street rode
a tall figure seated upon a white horse. The horse was from Culvert's
livery and the boys there had woven ribbons into its mane and tail. Windy
McPherson, sitting very straight in the saddle and looking wonderfully
striking in the new blue uniform and the broad-brimmed campaign hat, had
the air of a conqueror come to receive the homage of the town.
He wore a gold band across his chest and against his hip rested the
shining bugle. With stern eyes he looked down upon the people.

The lump in the throat of the boy hurt more and more. A great wave of
pride ran over him, submerging him. In a moment he forgot all the past
humiliations the father had brought upon his family, and understood why
his mother remained silent when he, in his blindness, had wanted to
protest against her seeming indifference. Glancing furtively up he saw a
tear lying upon her cheek and felt that he too would like to sob aloud his
pride and happiness.

Slowly and with stately stride the horse walked up the street between the