Will ye look at young Angus on the big drum, man,
but he has got the gr-rand style on him."
"Ay, boys, they are the la-ads," said Sergeant Mackay, yielding to the
influence of his environment and casually dropping into the cadence of
the Highlanders about him, which, during his ten years in the west,
his tongue had well-nigh lost. "It's a very fine thing, your pipers are
doing, playing our boys out in this way, and we won't be forgetting that
in a hurry."
"Why for no?" enquired Hec, in surprise. "It's the Highlanders
themselves that love a bonny fighter."
Down the road, between lines of silent men, came the pipers with waving
kilts and flying tartans, swinging along in their long swaying stride,
young Angus doing wonders on the big drum, with his whirling sticks, and
every piper blowing his loudest, and marching his proudest. Behind them
came the men of the battalion marching at attention, their colonel at
their head, grave of face and steady. Behind the colonel marched Major
Bayne, in place of the senior major, whom illness had prevented from
accompanying the battalion on this last tour, no longer rotund and
cheery as was his wont, but with face grey, serious and deep lined.
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