Wee Macgreegor Enlists Part 10

'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 antic.i.p.ation.

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.

'Dardanelles!' Macgregor repeated as he gave his friend a hand up.

'Oh ----!' groaned Willie, rubbing the back of his head. 'But what'll ye bet?'

'What ha'e ye got?'

'I'll bet ye thruppence--the thruppence ye lent me the day afore yesterday.'

'Done! If ye win, we'll be quits; if ye loss----'

'Na, na! If I win, ye'll ha'e to pay me----'

'Ach, I've nae time to listen to ye. I've twa letters to write.'

'Letters! What aboot the bet?'

'Awa' an' chase yersel'! Are ye no gaun to drap a line to yer aunt?'

'No dashed likely! She's never sent the postal order I asked her for. If I had got it, I wud ha'e payed what I'm owin' ye, Macgreegor. By heavens, I wud! I'll tak' ma oath I----'

'Aweel, never heed aboot that,' Macgregor said, soothingly. 'Send her a post caird an' let me get peace for three meenutes.'

'Ye canna get peace in this,' said Willie, with a glance round the tumultuous billet.

'I can--if ye haud yer silly tongue.' Macgregor thereupon got his pad and envelopes (a gift from Miss Tod), squatted on his bed, and proceeded to gnaw his pencil. The voice of the sergeant was heard ordering the men to hurry up.

'I'll tell ye what I'll dae,' said Willie, sitting down at his friend's elbow. 'I'll bet ye a' I owe ye to a bob it's Flanders.

Ye see, I'll maybe get shot, an' I dinna want to dee in debt. An'

I'll send the auld cat a caird wi' something nice on it, to please ye . . . . Eh?'

'Aw, onything ye like, but for ony sake clay up! s.h.i.+ft!' cried the distracted Macgregor.

'Weel gi'e's a f.a.g . . . . an' a match,' said Willie.

He received them in his face, but merely grinned as he languidly removed himself.

The two scrawls so hastily and under such difficulties produced by Macgregor are sacred. He would never write anything more boyish and loving, nor yet more manly and brave, than those 'few lines' to his mother and sweetheart. There was no time left for posting them when the order came to fall in, but he antic.i.p.ated an opportunity at one of the stations on the journey south.

Out in the suns.h.i.+ne stood the hundreds of lads whose training had been so brief that some carried ammunition for the first time.

There were few grave faces, though possibly some of the many grins were more reflected than original. Yet there was a fine general air of eagerness, and at the word 'attention' the varied expressions gave place to one of determination.

Boom! boom! boom! . . . Boom! boom! boom! Dirl and skirl; skirl and dirl! So to the heart-lifting, h.e.l.l-raising music of pipes and drums they marched down to the railway.

At the station it seemed as though they had been expected to break all records in military entraining. There was terrific haste and occasional confusion, the latter at the loading of the vans. The enthusiasm was equalled only by the perspiration. But at last everything and nearly everybody was aboard, and the rumour went along that they had actually broken such and such a battalion's record.

Private William Thomson, however, had already started his inevitable grumbling. There were eight in the compartment, and he had stupidly omitted to secure a corner seat.

'I'll bet ye I'm a corp afore we get to Dover,' he bleated.

'That's as near as ever ye'll be to bein' a corporal,' remarked the cheerful Jake. 'But hoo d'ye ken it'll be Dover?'

'I'll bet ye ---- Na! I'll no tak' on ony mair wagers. I've a tremenjous bet on wi' this yin'--indicating Macgregor--'every dashed penny I possess--that we're boun' for Flanders. He says the Dardanelles.'

All excepting Macgregor fell to debating the question. He had just remembered something he had forgotten to say to Christina; also, he was going away without the ring she was to have given him. He was not sorry he was going, but he felt sad. . . .

The debate waxed furious.

'I tell ye,' bawled Willie, 'we're for Flanders! The Ninth's been there since the----'

A sudden silence! What the ---- was that? Surely not--ay, it was!--an order to detrain!

And soon the whisper went round that they were not bound for anywhere--unless the ---- old camp. The morning's alarm and all that followed had been merely by way of practice.

At such a time different men have different feelings, or, at least, different ways of expressing them. Jake laughed philosophically and appeared to dismiss the whole affair. Willie swore with a curious and seemingly unnecessary bitterness, at frequent intervals, for the next hour or so. Macgregor remained in a semi-stunned condition of mind until the opportunity came for making a little private bonfire of the two letters; after which melancholy operation he straightway recovered his usual good spirits.

'Never heed, Wullie,' he said, later; 'we'll get oor chance yet.'

Willie exploded. 'What for did ye get me to mak' sic a ---- cod o'

masel'?'

'Cod o' yersel'? Me?'

'Ay, you!--gettin' me to send a caird to ma ---- aunt! What for did ye dae it?'

Macgregor stared. 'But ye didna post it,' he began.

'Ay, but I did. I gi'ed it to a man at the station.'