for the actual deaths and manglings which
all knew must follow such fierce firing when done in reality.

It was some minutes afterward before the smoke cleared away from over
the field sufficiently to allow all to see the next spectacles. But all
onlookers now felt the need of a brief rest from such sensations.

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.

At the outset were some little gaps in the path, representing brooks and
rills. Over these Sergeant Hal sped as if they did not exist, while
little upward spurts of water helped out the illusion.

Ahe