It was a long time coming, for they
were posted on the extreme left.
Suddenly a strangled voice was uplifted--"In God's name, what for can
they no come tae _us_? Never heed the others!"
Yet Private M'Slattery was quite unaware that he had spoken.
At last the little procession arrived. There was a handshake for the
Colonel, and a word with two or three of the officers; then a quick
scrutiny of the rank and file. For a moment--yea, more than a
moment--keen Royal eyes rested upon Private M'Slattery, standing like
a graven image, with his great chest straining the buttons of his
tunic.
Then a voice said, apparently in M'Slattery's ear--
"A magnificent body of men, Colonel. I congratulate you."
A minute later M'Slattery was aroused from his trance by the sound of
the Colonel's ringing voice--
"Highlanders, three cheers for His Majesty the King!"
M'Slattery led the whole Battalion, his glengarry high in the air.
Suddenly his eye fell upon Private Mucklewame, blindly and woodenly
yelling himself hoarse.
In three strides M'Slattery was standing face to face with the
unconscious criminal.
"Yous low, lousy puddock," he roared--"tak' off your bonnet!" He saved
Mucklewame the trouble of complying, and strode back to his place in
the ranks.
"Yin mair, chaps," he shouted--"for the young leddy!"
And yet there are people who tell us that the formula, O.
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