A large, muscular man, in a white shirt and tie, was standing at the counter as I walked up."Hi," I said to him. "What seems to be the problem?"The ma..., with the short-cut, red hair, square jaw and steely, grey eyes, gave me a curt smile and said, "The problem, kid, is that this game is crooked."I smiled and looked over at the agitated look on Cookie's face as she planted her fists on her hips and was about to speak.I held out my hand and motioned for her to keep quiet."Rigged, sir? OUR game?". The smile told me how happy she was.The concert was excellent with a good repertoire of traditional British marches and some Souza marches as well. As they played they marched and counter-marched never missing a beat or a step. The finale was the Sunset, the brisk tap of the drums, traditionally calling the Skirmishers to break off and return to camp. Then the clear notes of the trumpets and bugles hanging on the evening air as the flag sank slowly from the Jack. Looking over the Sound we could. More

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