Then he often looked at Betty, and a qualm seized him. How could he part with the lamb? He had been through trouble and sorrow for the little animal. He had lived many happy hours by her side. It was as though she had become his own. The thought of parting from her was like a stab. Then, too, Betty loved him.
At these times, the poor little boy would knit his brow and ponder upon the strangeness of life.
Then he thought of the pipers and the tale of Dunblane, where the stalwart lads marched and played. He thought of the glorious piper bands marching in the big towns. The thought made him brighten and jump from the brig and scan the country for a sign of Sandy.
But the days of budding blossoms and showers in Scotland wore on. Finally Betty's ribbon bow began to fade and Ian's patience to wear.
Little Elsie Campbell used at times to walk with the boy to the brig. Often he stopped on the walk and talked to her, as he cocked his head on one side.
"Do you not hear the din of pipes, Elsie?" he asked.
And the wee lassie shook her head and said, "Ach, no, lad. 'Tis daft you are with your pipes!"
But it was said kindly, for Elsie hoped and prayed that Sandy would return. You see, Ian had told her the story of Betty and how he waited for the promised pipes. It was, in fact, Elsie who had first tied the silken tartan ribbon about the lamb's neck.
It was a gray day which promised rain. Ian and Betty neared the brig together. Ian had just tied the creature to her accustomed rock and was lifting himself to the wall when he heard a sound. Pipes! Unmistakably pipes!