ssion instruments. Now he could see
the mouth of the alley ahead, a sunny street hung with bunting, the
backs of people, and over their heads the rhythmic bobbing of a passing
procession, tall shakos and guidons in almost-even rows. Two tall poles
with a streamer between them swung into view. He caught a glimpse of
tall red letters:

... For Our Side!

* * *

He moved closer, edged up behind the grey-backed crowd. A phalanx of
yellow-tuniced men approached, walking stiffly, fez tassels swinging. A
small boy darted out into the street, loped along at their side. The
music screeched and wheezed. Brett tapped the man before him.

"What's it all about...?"

He couldn't hear his own voice. The man ignored him. Brett moved along
behind the crowd, looking for a vantage point or a thinning in the
ranks. There seemed to be fewer people ahead. He came to the end of the
crowd, moved on a few yards, stood at the curb. The yellow-jackets had
passed now, and a group of round-thighed girls in satin blouses and
black boots and white fur caps glided into view, silent, expressionless.
As they reached a point fifty feet from Brett, they broke abruptly into
a strutting prance, knees high, hips flirting, tossing shining batons
high, catching them, twirling them, and up again ...

Brett craned his neck, looking for TV cameras. The crowd lining the
opposite side of the street stood in solid ranks, drably clad, eyes
following the procession, mouths working. A fat man in a rumpled suit
and a panama hat squeezed to the front, stood picking his teeth.
Somehow, he seemed out of place among the others. Behind the spectators,
the store fronts looked normal, dowdy brick and mismatched glass and
oxidizing aluminum, dusty windows and cluttered displays of cardboard, a
faded sign that read TODAY ONLY--PRICES SLASHED. To Brett's left the
sidewalk stretched, empty. To his right the crowd was packed close, the
shout rising and falling. Now a rank of blue-suited policemen followed
the majorettes, swinging along silently. Behind them, over them, a piece
of paper blew along the street. Brett turned to the man on his right.

"Pardon me. Can you tell me the name of this town?"

The man ignored him. Brett tapped the man's shoulder. "Hey! What town is
this?"

The man took off his hat, whirled it overhead, then threw it up. It
sailed away over the crowd, lost. Brett wondered briefly how people who
threw their hats ever recovered t