From a side street a body of men swung about a
corner, coming with long strides toward the two. As they passed
beneath a street lamp that swung gently in the wind their faces
flashing in and out of the light seemed to be mocking David Ormsby.
For a moment anger burned in him and then something, perhaps the
rhythm of the moving mass of men, brought a gentler mood. The men
swinging past turned another corner and disappeared beneath the
structure of an elevated railroad.
The ploughmaker walked away from McGregor. Something in the interview,
terminating thus with, the presence of the marching figures had he
felt unmanned him. "After all there is youth and the hope of youth.
What he has in mind may work," he thought as he climbed aboard a
street car.
In the car David put his head out at the window and looked at the long
line of apartment buildings that lined the streets. He thought again
of his own youth and of the evenings in the Wisconsin village when,
himself a youth, he went with other young men singing and marching in
the moonlight.
In a vacant lot he again saw a body of the Marching Men moving back
and forth and responding quickly to the commands given by a slender
young man who stood on the sidewalk beneath a street lamp and held a
stick in his hand.
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