Sube Cane Part 12

"Couldn't seem to rest ... mind too active, I suppose ... thinking up a little something to say this afternoon ... brain works best when my feet are in motion," were a few of the fragments they caught as he strode back and forth.

Mrs. Cane expressed mild surprise. "Couldn't sleep!" she said. "It's so lovely and quiet--I don't see how you could fail to catch a few winks.

Our other advantages sometimes fail us, but we can always rely on peace and quietude here in the country."

The colonel made no reply as he continued his beat. After a few rounds he brought up before Mrs. Cane and asked irrelevantly, "Is there a band or a drum corps in this town?"

"Oh, yes!" she a.s.sured him. "We have an excellent cornet band and a drum corps as well."

"You'll hear them both this afternoon," Mr. Cane volunteered. "They're sure to be in the parade."

"Where do they do their practicing?" pursued the colonel.

"Sube can tell you more about that than I can," replied the host, turning to Sube who had just put in an appearance. "Where does the band practice, Sube?"

"They used to practice in the barber shop, but now they're practicin' in the town hall," Sube told him.

"Now?" asked the colonel with an unexpected show of interest.

"Oh, no. Not right _now_," replied Sube. "They only practice nights."

"Hum," said the colonel. "Where does this drum corps practice?"

"At the Henderson farm," replied Sube promptly; "that's three miles out in the country."

"Any other musical organizations around here?" the colonel persisted.

"Sir?--No, sir," answered Sube. "But--"

"But what, my lad?" asked the colonel, noting Sube's apparent modesty.

"Nuthin'; but I was jus' wonderin'," mumbled Sube, "if you played in the Rochester band."

As the colonel rather frigidly replied that he most distinctly did not, Sube was nervously forced into the background by his parents, and a moment later was as unostentatiously as possible elbowed into the house.

Two o'clock saw the whole town in the opera house. Three-thirty saw them emerging red-eyed and melting. Three-forty saw the parade in process of formation and nearly ready to move.

The First Division was led by the hea.r.s.e containing the mortal remains of Captain Roy, flanked on either side by an escort of G. A. R.

veterans. Immediately behind the hea.r.s.e was the Silver Cornet Band; and following close on the heels of the band were two carriages of chief mourners. Then came in order, the G. A. R. veterans bearing their tattered regimental colors; a carriage with Colonel Smythe, Mr. and Mrs. Cane, and the Village President; carriages filled with Village Trustees, Street and Sewer Commissioners, and the Committee on Arrangements wearing fluttering decorations on their b.r.e.a.s.t.s; and other prominent citizens in carriages.

The Second Division was made up of the local fire companies led by the Henderson Drum Corps.

Every man, woman and child in the township who was able to walk was eligible for the Third Division, and most of them were there.

While the parade was forming, Grand Marshal Richards from the back of his trusty charger discovered far back in the crowd a martial band to which no place had been a.s.signed, and promptly dispatched one of his aides to conduct them to the head of the Third Division. As the strange band fell in line bystanders noted with interest the name on the head of the ba.s.s drum:

[Ill.u.s.tration:

CANES MARITAL BAND]

Then suddenly it dawned on them that the grenadier in charge was none other than Sube Cane, and that the jaunty kettle-drummer was a gentleman commonly called Gizzard Tobin. Little attention was paid to the a.s.sistant ba.s.s-drummer, Biscuit Westfall. But he was important. He wielded no stick, yet carried most of the weight of the drum; and he was there from a sense of duty rather than desire. Orders alleged by Sube to have come directly from Professor Ingraham were quite explicit. And as the several fifers and snare-drummers had little to do with the subsequent events of the day they shall remain nameless.

The costumes of Cane's Marital Band were military, but they were far from uniform.

At last the procession moved. The Silver Cornet Band blared out a funeral march several blocks long, at the termination of which the Henderson Drum Corps gave a m.u.f.fled selection that ended only when the cemetery had been reached. As the vast mult.i.tude a.s.sembled around the grave the Silver Cornet Band rendered _Nearer My G.o.d to Thee_ with telling effect. And as the last sad notes died away Colonel E. Dalrymple Smythe removed his hat and began to clear his throat.

"My friends,--" he extended his arms and looked about helplessly, as if to create the impression that before the open grave even _his_ words were powerless. However, it was his intention to remove that impression a little later. As he stood thus transfixed, a hubbub started somewhere back in the crowd. At first fitful and chaotic, it became more steady as it gathered force, and soon settled into a regular beat.

Pluff-a-luff--pluff-pluff pluff-a-luff--pluff-pluff pluff-a-luff--pluff-a-luff--pluff-a-luff pluff-PLUFF!

It was the refrain of slack drums and tin whistles. There was plenty of noise, and plenty of rhythm, but no suspicion of a tune. For some moments Colonel Smythe waited for order to be restored, hands still poised in mid-air. Then he recognized the sound as the one he had previously heard, and feeling certain that no power on earth could stop it, he proceeded with his remarks as best he could.

Several persons motioned frantically for Grand Marshal Richards to quell the disturbance. He nodded his head and dashed off; but he went in the wrong direction--and the band played on.

Then Willum Edson, the leader of the Silver Cornet Band, took the law into his own hands and rushed over to put a stop to the din. But before he could get there Sube had brought his selection to a close, and was conversing in a suppressed though audible tone, accompanied by violent gesticulations, with a group of boys who had gathered round his musicians.

"We can't play, hey!--I showed you, didn't I?--It's a fake drum corpse, is it!--Fooled you, didn't I?"

"Yaa-a-a-ah! But they shut you up!" taunted somebody. "You da.s.sen't play again!"

"We da.s.sen't, hey!"

And before the colonel was fully aware that he had the floor to himself Cane's Marital Band had begun its second number.

Again Willum Edson made a rush for Sube's band. But Sube refused to be cowed. No doubt he suspected the rival musician of professional jealousy, for he swung his drumstick with a flourish that surpa.s.sed any of his previous performances. And, pressing too close, Willum Edson received a vigorous thump in the pit of the stomach, whereupon he straightway lost his temper and gave the drum corps leader an angry shove.

Sube promptly fell over a headstone, marking the resting place of Experience, Third Wife of Carso Norton, pulling Biscuit and the ba.s.s drum on top of him. When he had regained his feet he discovered to his dismay a large triangular hole through the drumhead that took the MARIT entirely out of MARITAL.

He had time for the utterance of just one angry bleat in the direction of Willum Edson, when Nature took a hand in the conflict and let fall one of her torrential spring downpours. A mad scramble for cover followed.

The few who had brought umbrellas raised them, and then had to fight for the privilege of remaining under them. Those who had come in carriages hastened to get under the protection of the tops. The members of the Silver Cornet Band trailed their instruments to keep them from filling with water as they beat a hurried but organized retreat. The fire companies in their spotless parade uniforms broke ranks and scattered.

Cane's Marital Band took refuge under a piece of canvas that had been spread over the pile of soil thrown from the open grave, with the exception of Sube and Biscuit, who were too much enc.u.mbered by the ba.s.s drum to secure a place and were compelled to look for other quarters.

At the first splash of rain the colonel rescued his silk hat from a bystander (who had attempted to protect it by putting it under his coat) and casting dignity to the winds made a rush for his carriage. He clambered in beside Mrs. Cane and sat helplessly in the downpour while Mr. Cane and the Village President struggled with the ungainly top.

The driver was too much engaged with his plunging steeds to lend a hand, but he superintended the job with superb profanity. When finally the top had yielded to their efforts Mr. Cane, drenched and disgusted, pulled himself into the carriage as the colonel explained:

"_That_ was the noise! The identical noise! The noise that pa.s.sed under my window and disturbed my rest! What in--What was it?"

As Mrs. Cane murmured that she hadn't the slightest idea, something in the crowd caught her eye. It was a tall grenadier cap that had become partly unwound and gave the appearance of having a tail. And nearby was a large ba.s.s drum with a hole through one head. A fleeting glance and it was gone. But a look at her husband told her that he too had seen it.

At this point the carriage became hopelessly involved in a jam of vehicles and stopped. As it stood there the downpour moderated, and finally settled into a gentle shower. And just before it started on again shouts and laughter could be distinctly heard. A most unseemly proceeding for the return from a funeral, and on Decoration Day of all days!

Mrs. Cane leaned out and looked forward, but she could distinguish nothing but a hooting, howling mob that seemed to be crowding round the hea.r.s.e.

At length the carriage moved; and as it caught up with the hea.r.s.e she beheld to her horror the cause of the shocking levity. Inside the hea.r.s.e was an imitation lion pacing restlessly back and forth, as it lashed its ba.s.s drumstick tail in evident anger. There was something strangely familiar about the beast, and especially about the tawny mane of foxlike fur that was wrapped around its neck.

Suddenly the creature whirled about--and Mrs. Cane found herself looking directly into one of Sube's best lion-faces. She fell back into the cushions with a gasp. Then, perceiving that her guest was looking the other way and had not yet seen the horrible sight, she clutched her husband's arm.