Windy McPhersons Son | Page 8

Jedrow, clerk in the bank, who wrote them down in a book. When the
amount subscribed did not meet with his approval, he protested and the

crowd backing him up forced the increase he demanded. When a man
did not rise, he shouted at him and the man answered back an amount.
Suddenly in the hall a diversion arose. Windy McPherson emerged
from the crowd at the back of the hall and walked down the centre aisle
to the platform. He walked unsteadily straightening his shoulders and
thrusting out his chin. When he got to the front of the hall he took a roll
of bills from his pocket and threw it on the platform at the chairman's
feet. "From one of the boys of '61," he announced in a loud voice.
The crowd shouted and clapped its hands with delight as Telfer picked
up the bills and ran his finger over them. "Seventeen dollars from our
hero, the mighty McPherson," he shouted while the bank clerk wrote
the name and the amount in the book and the crowd continued to make
merry over the title given the drunken soldier by the chairman.
The boy on the window ledge slipped to the floor and stood with
burning cheeks behind the mass of men. He knew that at home his
mother was doing a family washing for Lesley, the shoe merchant, who
had given five dollars to the Fourth-of-July fund, and the resentment he
had felt on seeing his father talking to the crowd before the jewelry
store blazed up anew.
After the taking of subscriptions, men in various parts of the hall began
making suggestions for added features for the great day. To some of the
speakers the crowd listened respectfully, at others they hooted. An old
man with a grey beard told a long rambling story of a Fourth-of-July
celebration of his boyhood. When voices interrupted he protested and
shook his fist in the air, pale with indignation.
"Oh, sit down, old daddy," shouted Freedom Smith and a murmur of
applause greeted this sensible suggestion.
Another man got up and began to talk. He had an idea. "We will have,"
he said, "a bugler mounted on a white horse who will ride through the
town at dawn blowing the reveille. At midnight he will stand on the
steps of the town hall and blow taps to end the day."

The crowd applauded. The idea had caught their fancy and had
instantly taken a place in their minds as one of the real events of the
day.
Again Windy McPherson emerged from the crowd at the back of the
hall. Raising his hand for silence he told the crowd that he was a bugler,
that he had been a regimental bugler for two years during the Civil War.
He said that he would gladly volunteer for the place.
The crowd shouted and John Telfer waved his hand. "The white horse
for you, McPherson," he said.
Sam McPherson wriggled along the wall and out at the now unbolted
door. He was filled with astonishment at his father's folly, and was still
more astonished at the folly of these other men in accepting his
statement and handing over the important place for the big day. He
knew that his father must have had some part in the war as he was a
member of the G. A. R., but he had no faith at all in the stories he had
heard him relate of his experiences in the war. Sometimes he caught
himself wondering if there ever had been such a war and thought that it
must be a lie like everything else in the life of Windy McPherson. For
years he had wondered why some sensible solid person like Valmore or
Wildman did not rise, and in a matter-of-fact way tell the world that no
such thing as the Civil War had ever been fought, that it was merely a
figment in the minds of pompous old men demanding unearned glory
of their fellows. Now hurrying along the street with burning cheeks, he
decided that after all there must have been such a war. He had had the
same feeling about birthplaces and there could be no doubt that people
were born. He had heard his father claim as his birthplace Kentucky,
Texas, North Carolina, Louisiana and Scotland. The thing had left a
kind of defect in his mind. To the end of his life when he heard a man
tell the place of his birth he looked up suspiciously, and a shadow of
doubt crossed his mind.
From the mass meeting Sam went home to his mother and presented
the case bluntly. "The thing will have to be stopped," he declared,
standing with blazing eyes before her washtub. "It is too public.