'Yes, sir—but Donald is not here.'
Under his moustache, the adjutant muttered something that sounded very much like an oath.
'This looks ill,' said he, reddening with anger; 'a fellow bolts on the eve of embarking for foreign service! The sergeant of the main guard and the sentries at the gate must be accountable for this.'
'Nay, I alone am answerable,' said Major Catanagh; 'Donald comes from my native glen on the west bank of Loch Lomond; and late on the night the route arrived, he came to me and said, "Major, you know me well—you have known me since we were boys, and can trust me. My mother died when we were fighting on the banks of the Indus, and she is buried in the auld kirkyard of Luss; get me leave for a night, that I may cross the hills to say one prayer at her grave before we go, and I swear by the God that hears me to be at Dumbarton gate before you march—ay before the pipes play reveille."'
'And you obtained leave for him from the colonel?'
'Yes.'
'Reveille was blown long since,' said the adjutant, with an incredulous smile, 'and Donald has not yet appeared. Sergeant Mac Ildhui, mark him absent in the Report.'
The kind major reddened in turn, for our adjutant was a Lowlander, and did not believe in Highlanders; but Catanagh was a Celt, and better knew the missing man.
'I will answer for him,' said he; 'Donald will be back in time, I warrant him—where are his musket, pack, and accoutrements.'
'They are carried by his comrades.'