There were a host of features to the rousing programme, and not a spectator but thrilled and throbbed, and thanked his lucky stars that he was here, at the show, the spectacle of a lifetime!
Feature after feature followed, in a swiftly-moving, tightly-packed programme lasting three hours. The riot drill, showing with vivid effect how a battalion of regular infantry can move through a densely packed mob, brought forth tumultuous cheers. When the cheering had subsided such shouts as these were offered by excited spectators:
"Bring your anarchists here to-night, and show them this!"
"Never get into a riot unless you go with the regulars!"
It was truly an Army afternoon. All such afternoons are, for the average American knows truly nothing about his own Army. When he sees it actually at work he becomes, for the time at least, an "Army crank."
There were many features in which only one, or a few men, figured importantly. One of these was now about to be offered. On the programme it bore the title, "the bicycle dispatch rider."
No name was set opposite this title, but the man who had been selected for the work was Sergeant Hal Overton.
At the far side of the field the scene had been arranged. It represented a hill road, over which the dispatch bearer must ride at breakneck speed. For picturesque purposes Hal wore a surgeon's field case, hanging over one shoulder by a strap. In actual war time his real dispatches would have been hidden somewhere in his clothing, his shoes, or what-not place of concealment.
Of a sudden the Thirty-fourth's band turned loose into a dashing gallop played at faster time than usual. It was the signal for Sergeant Hal to mount his wheel and ride as for life.
Something in the speed, the dash, the evident purpose of the young soldier caught the hearts of the spectators as soon as Hal started. He had not gone fifty yards on his way before the cheering once more burst forth.