There came a scattered applause. “We’re a flop!” Gale thought.
Then a big rawboned tank sergeant from the deep south, who had somehow made a surprising discovery, stood up to roar:
“Hey! You guys! Them’s gals! How about givin’ ’em a hand?”
The applause was as great as the look of surprise on ten thousand faces.
Enheartened, Gale proposed a glorious song that had been the prime favorite of another war.
“There’s a long, long trail a-winding
Into the land of my dreams,” they sang.
“Where the nightingales are singing
And the white moon beams.”
Perhaps most of those boys had never heard that song. Perhaps in the hearts of the singers was the same old deep longing that hung over all of the Secret Forest. However that may have been, when the song ended—“Till the day when I’ll be walking down that long, long trail with you,” every boy was on his feet with a shout of approval.