THE COUNTRY BOY 57 



had up to that time. We got there at dayhght 

 and had breakfast that had been specially pre- 

 pared for us, for which Uncle Jake paid. He 

 wasn't an uncle, but like "Aunty" McMillan, 

 was fat, so everybody called him in Silverton, 

 "Uncle Jake." We took the Albany local, and 

 by eight o'clock were in Portland, forty-seven 

 miles from Silverton. It was the first time I 

 was ever there without some one holding me 

 by the wrist, and it seemed great. The uni- 

 forms kind of made us brave, and Uncle Jake 

 marched ahead and we played as we marched 

 up the main street, which was First Street. 

 On the bass drum was printed in red letters, 

 "Silverton Trombone Band," and people 

 would yell "Hurrah for Silverton!" while 

 Uncle Jake would answer them by yelling 

 "Hurrah for Cleveland!" Uncle Jake fre- 

 quently sold cattle to the butchers there, so be- 

 fore we knew it we had stopped in front of 

 a butcher shop, and were playing while he was 

 in the back end of the shop selling cattle. 

 From one butcher shop to another we went, 

 playing all the time, and many of us marching 

 in new shoes on the first cobblestones we had 

 ever seen. Finally in the afternoon we bought 



