over
there? You must be able to see that."

"Yes, sir."

"That boat is to take you ashore. You needn't be afraid. If you don't
like to look at the sea, get down into the bottom of the boat, and take
Oscar with you, and you'll see nothing until you are ashore. Do you
understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Come along, then."

For now the wild skirl of Donald's pipes was plainly audible; and the
various packages--the new rifle, the wooden case containing the
wonderful dresses for Lady Macleod and her niece, and what not--were all
ranged ready; to say nothing of some loaves of white bread that the
steward was sending ashore at Hamish's request. And then the heaving
boat came close to, her sail hauled down; and a rope was thrown and
caught; and then there was a hazardous scrambling down the dripping iron
steps, and a notable spring on the part of Oscar, who had escaped from
the hands of the sailors. As for the new gillie, he resembled nothing so
much as a limp bunch of clothes, as Macleod's men, wondering not a
little, caught him up and passed him astern. Then the rope was thrown
off, the steamer steamed slowly ahead, the lugsail was run up again, and
away the boat plunged for the shore, with Donald playing the "Heights of
Alma" as though he would rend the skies.

"Hold your noise, Donald!" his master called to him. "You will have
plenty of time to play the pipes in the evening."

For he was greatly delighted to be among his own people again; and he
was eager in his questions of the men as to all that had happened in his
absence; and it was no small thing to them that Sir Keith Macleod should
remember their affairs, too, and ask after their families and friends.
Donald's loyalty was stronger than his professional pride. He was not
offended that he had been silenced; he only bottled up his musical
fervor all the more; and at length, as he neared the land, and knew that
Lady Macleod and Miss Macleod were within hearing, he took it that he
knew better than any one else what was proper to the occasion, and once
more the proud and stirring march strove with the sound of the hurrying
waves. Nor was that all. The piper lad was doing his best. Never before
had he put such fire into his work; but as they got close inshore the
joy in his heart got altogether the mastery of him, and away he broke
into the mad delight of "Lady Mary Ramsay's Reel." Hamish on the quay
heard, and he strutted about as if he were himself playing, and that
be