CHAPTER III
PIPERS
"Do you think my dog would grieve if I should die?" asked Ian, as hebrushed away a tear with his sleeve and tried to distract Sandy'sattention from his action.
"Ay, if you treat him kindly, lad," answered the old man. "Beasties arefaithful to us when they know we love them."
"Ay," said Ian. "Roy is faithful, and a smart sheep dog, too."
"Do you like fine to herd the sheep, laddie?" asked Sandy.
Ian hung his head.
"No, Sandy. I like finer to go about and have adventures and make upthat I am--" He hesitated.
"What, lad? Speak. Do not be afraid of Sandy for he knows the hearts ofladdies well."
"If I could play the pipes, Sandy, I would go away and be a piper inthe band some day," confessed Ian.
This was, indeed, a dream so near to his heart that he had never beforespoken it aloud. After the admission, Ian turned his head away and didnot look at Sandy. But the old man's voice was very soft and his tonecaressing, as he said, "And a fine dream it is, Ian lad, for to be apiper is a great and honored calling."
"Ay," answered Ian huskily, "but 'tis not for me, Sandy."
Sandy turned the boy around then and looked him squarely in the eye.
"Ian, lad, do not speak so, for nothing is too hard to get when youwant it."
Ian's eyes lighted up for a moment. Then the same forlorn look cameinto them as he let his head droop.
"No, Sandy. The pipes are too dear, and it takes many months to learnto play."
"And you study hard at school, lad?" asked the piper.
"Ay, do I," spoke the boy.
"Then some day, you'll be liking to hear of the fine military school Isaw."
THE PIPER LADDIES]
"Ach, Sandy, tell me about it. Have you really seen it?" Ian was atonce alert.
"Ay, that have I, and only three weeks ago when I was passing byDunblane."
As the poor little village lad drank in his words, Sandy talked onabout the wonderful school in Dunblane. This school is called the QueenVictoria School. Here lads between the ages of nine and fifteen aretrained as soldiers.
They are sons of military men, some of whom fell in the World War.These boys are reared and taught free of charge. It is a great and goodschool for a boy to attend.
THE DRUM MAJOR]
To see and hear these sons of Scotland's heroes is an experience neverto be forgotten. They present a fine appearance in their bright-coloredkilts and military trappings, as they march and play upon their pipes.
Sandy saw and heard, and carried away with him a memory of theloveliest sight and sound imaginable. Coming toward him were boys.Children they were, with their kilts making a vivid pattern.
Their bare knees moved in perfect unison as they stepped to the tunesof Scotland's patriotic melodies. They played in a way unsurpassed bypipers older and more experienced than they.
First came a waltz, gracefully played and gracefully stepped. Then camea march, loud, fast, but always in perfect harmony. The sound mighthave come from a single organ played, perhaps, by Scottish cherubim.
The drum major wore a plumed helmet and carried a baton. He was onlyfourteen years old, but he twirled his stick and marched like a veteranof many wars.
THE DRUMMER BOY]
The little twelve-year-old drummer swung his drumsticks into the airand caught them again. He never missed a beat on his drum. The rest,pipers all, marched and played. Their cheeks puffed in and out, whiletheir fingers moved and made melodies.
Throughout the hills echoed the sound. It was the same as echoed duringthe Battle of Bannockburn, when Scottish history was made. To thesetunes, in this same rugged country marched, years ago, these lads'ancestors.
And Sandy carried his memories of Queen Victoria School back to IanCraig. Ian's longing to become a piper grew greater as he listened. Inhis heart he uttered a silent prayer.