e a show affair.

Away to the east the guns still thunder, and at night the star-shells
float tremblingly up over the distant horizon. But not for us. Not
yet, that is. In a few weeks' time we shall be back in another part of
the line. Till then--Company drill and Cup-Ties! _Carpe diem!_

II

It all seemed very strange and unreal to Second-Lieutenant Angus
M'Lachlan, as he alighted from the train at railhead, and supervised
the efforts of his solitary N.C.O. to arrange the members of his draft
in a straight line. There were some thirty of them in all. Some were
old hands--men from the First and Second Battalions, who had been
home wounded, and had now been sent out to leaven "K(1)." Others were
Special Reservists from the Third Battalion. These had been at the
Depot for a long time, and some of them stood badly in need of a
little active service. Others, again, were new hands altogether--the
product of "K to the _nth_." Among these Angus M'Lachlan numbered
himself, and he made no attempt to conceal the fact. The novelty of
the sights around him was almost too much for his _insouciant_ dignity
as a commissioned officer.

Angus M'Lachlan was a son of the Manse, and incidentally a child of
Nature. The Manse was a Highland Manse; and until a few months
ago Angus had never, save for a rare visit to distant Edinburgh,
penetrated beyond the small town which lay four miles from his native
glen, and of whose local Academy he had been "dux." When the War broke
out he had been upon the point of proceeding to Edinburgh University,
where he had already laid siege to a bursary, and captured the same;
but all these plans, together with the plans of countless more
distinguished persons, had been swept to the winds by the invasion of
Belgium. On that date Angus summoned up his entire stock of physical
and moral courage and informed his reverend parent of his intention
to enlist for a soldier. Permission was granted with quite stunning
readiness. Neil M'Lachlan believed in straight hitting both in
theology and war, and was by no means displeased at the martial
aspirations of his only son. If he quitted himself like a man in the
forefront of battle, the boy could safely look forward to being
cock of his own Kirk-Session in the years that came afterwards. One
reservation the old man made. His son, as a Highland gentleman, would
lead men to battle, and not merely accompany them. So the impatient
Angus was bidden to apply for a Commis