Instantly, as if he had touched a hidden spring, from the battalion's thousand throats there broke a roar of cheers that seemed to rock the rafters of the station building.
Again, again, and yet again! As if they could never exhaust the burden of their swelling emotions, they roared forth their cheers, waving caps and rifles high in the air, while down their cheeks poured, unheeded and unhindered, a rain of tears.
"Canada! Canada! Canada!" they cried.

"Oh, you Canadians! Alberta! Alberta!" Feebly came the answering cheers, awkwardly waved the bandaged hands and arms.
Then the battalion broke ranks and flinging rifles and kitbags to the ground, they rushed across the tracks, eager to bring their tribute of pride and love to their brothers from their own country, far across the sea.
"Malcolm! Hello, Malcolm!" cried a voice from a window of the train, as the noise had somewhat subsided.

"Hey, Malcolm, here you are!" cried a wounded man, raising himself from his cot to the window.
Malcolm Innes turned, scanned the train, then rushed across the tracks to the window and clung fast to it.
It was his brother, Ewen.
"Is it yourself, Ewen, and are you hurted bad ?" cried the boy, all unconscious of his breaking voice and falling tears.

They clung together for some little time in silence.
"Are you much hurted, Ewen?
Tell me the God's truth," again said Malcolm.
"Not much," said Ewen.

"True as death, I'm tellin' you.