"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.H.M.S., is a
mere relic of antiquity.




V

"CRIME"


"Bring in Private Dunshie, Sergeant-Major," says the Company
Commander.