rselves for a little while?" asked Captain
Ross.

"Oh, rather," said Michael and Alan.

"I've just one or two things I wanted to say to you, dear," said Captain
Ross, turning to his wife. They left the dining-room together. Michael
and Alan sat silently at the table, crumbling bread and making patterns
in the salt-cellar. They could hear the gaunt clock ticking away on the
stained wall above them. From time to time far-off bugles sounded above
the tossing wind. So they sat for twenty solemn minutes. Then the
husband and wife came back. The bill was paid; the door of the hotel
swung back; the porter said 'Good luck, sir,' very solemnly, and in a
minute they were walking down the street towards the railway-station
through the wind and rain.

"I'll see you on the dock in a moment," said Captain Ross. "You'd better
take a cab down and wait under cover."

Thence onwards for an hour or more all was noise, excitement and bustle
in contrast to the brooding, ominous calm of the dingy hotel. Regiments
were marching down to the docks; bands were playing; there were drums
and bugles, shouts of command, clatter of horses, the occasional rumble
of a gun-carriage, enquiries, the sobbing of children and women, oaths,
the hooting of sirens, a steam-engine's whistle, and at last, above
everything else, was heard the wail of approaching pipes.

Nearer and nearer swirled the maddening, gladdening, heart-rending tune
they played; the Kintail Highlanders were coming; they swung into view;
they halted, company after company of them; there were shouts of command
very close; suddenly Michael found his hand clenched and saw Captain
Ross's grey eyes smiling good-bye; Alan's sleeve seemed to have a loose
thread that wanted biting off; the sirens of the great transport
trumpeted angrily and, resounding through the sinking hearts of those
who were not going, robbed them of whatever pluck was left. Everywhere
in view sister, mother, and wife were held for a moment by those they
loved. The last man was aboard; the gangway was hauled up; the screw
pounded the water; the ship began to glide away from the dock with slow,
sickening inevitableness. Upon the air danced handkerchiefs, feeble
fluttering envoys of the passionate farewells they flung to the wind.
Spellbound, intolerably powerless, the watchers on shore waved and
waved; smaller grew the faces leaning over the rail; smaller and
smaller, until at last they were unrecognizable to those left be