Ha'e ye onything o' yer
uncle's handy?'
'I can gi'e ye a wee tin o' corned beef, Wullie. Ye ken whaur to
find it.'
'Least ye can dae,' Willie growled. 'Thenk Goad it was your money!'
'I'm thinkin' I've got guid value.'
'What?'
'Guid nicht!' And stuffing some blanket into his mouth, Macgregor
rolled over and quaked with imprisoned mirth.
X
THE ALARM
It came, as Christina would have expressed it in her early days,
like a 'blot from the blue.' On a certain fine morning, while
battalion drill was in progress, a mounted officer dashed upon the
scene and was forthwith engaged in earnest conversation with the
colonel. The news was evidently urgent, and it was received with
an obvious gravity. A thrill ran through the ranks; you would have
fancied you heard breaths of anticipation.
A minute later the companies were making for camp at the double.
Arrived there they were instructed to repair to billets and, with
all speed, pack up. And presently ammunition was being served out,
a hundred rounds to each man; and, later, 'iron' rations.
'We're awa' noo!' gasped Macgregor, recovering forcibly from
Willie's greedy clutch a pair of socks knitted by Christina.
'Ay, we're awa'; an' I'll bet ye we're for Flanders,' said Willie,
no less excited.
'Dardanelles!' shouted Macgregor, above the din that filled the
billet.
'Flanders!' yelled Willie, wildly, and started to
dance--unfortunately upon a thin piece of soap.
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