yards away upon his right front.

"Wull we be gettin' hame to our dinners now?" he inquired gruffly of
his neighbour.

"Maybe he'll tak' a closer look at us," suggested an optimist in the
rear rank. "He micht walk doon the line."

"Walk? No him!" replied Private M'Slattery. "He'll be awa' hame in the
motor. Hae ony o' you billies gotten a fag?"

There was a smothered laugh. The officers of the battalion were
standing rigidly at attention in front of A Company. One of these
turned his head sharply.

"No talking in the ranks there!" he said. "Sergeant, take that man's
name."

Private M'Slattery, rumbling mutiny, subsided, and devoted his
attention to the movements of the Royal motor-car.

Then the miracle happened.

The great car rolled smoothly from the saluting-base, over the
undulating turf, and came to a standstill on the extreme right of the
line, half a mile away. There descended a slight figure in khaki. It
was the King--the King whom Private M'Slattery had never seen. Another
figure followed, and another.

"Herself iss there too!" whinnied an excited Highlander on