At first it was rather soothing than otherwise, but as it became louder
it began to be annoying. It seemed to come at regular intervals.
Throb--throb--throb-throb-throb! He could no longer escape the
conviction that it was a distant drumbeat. After a little he could no
longer escape the conviction that it was not so distant. Then the piping
of fifes could be heard. No tune could be detected, but still it was not
a sound that would have been regarded as sleep-inducing.

Mr. and Mrs. Cane were nowhere about. Having the carriage at their
disposal for the day they had gone for a little drive in the country.
When they drew up before the house an hour later they were very much
surprised to see their guest striding up and down the long veranda, his
hands clasped behind his back beneath the skirts of his coat, his tall
hat on the back of his noble head, and a fat cigar in the corner of his
mouth.

"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 assured 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, si