"We won't make any noise round here," he assured her. "Honest we won't. But we want to march in the Decoration Day parade."
"Why don't you get up a nice little company of soldiers," suggested his mother. "I'll fix a uniform for you, and perhaps your father would let you carry his sword. But I will not help you to get any more drums or other noise-making things. A nice little company of soldiers would be just the thing; and I think your father would drill you once or twice to show you how—"
"Dad drill me! I guess not! I don't want any 'nice little comp'ny of soldiers,' anyway. I want a drum corpse!"
"You talk to the other boys about a nice little company of soldiers. That would be just the thing!"
But Sube was not interested in soldiery. The depths of his being had been sounded by the throb of the Henderson Martial Band. Creative instincts had been aroused that only expression could satisfy. He abandoned the quest of the drum and left the house. At the barn he found Gizzard Tobin waiting for him.
"Well, what luck?" called Gizzard as Sube approached.
"Nuthin' doin'," muttered Sube. "Dad said he'd kick a hole through any drum he caught on the premises, and my mother wouldn't do a thing for a drum corpse. She wanted me to get up a pimply little company of soldiers."
"Rotten," voted Gizzard. "What we goin'—"
"Say! But I got onto one good thing!" Sube suddenly recalled. "It's another kind of a drum!"
And Gizzard learned with interest the details of the construction and operation of the kettle drum.