Still, he had been mistaken so often before that he dared not look. And Elsie was not there to-day. She would have told him. For in her ears the sound was not always droning as it had been in Ian's for many days.
He had not told his mother for fear of worrying her. But his head was often heavy, and he could not sleep with the sound of the bagpipes. Poor little Ian! If only Sandy would return!
On this dull, misty day as he swung his feet from the wall of the brig, Ian could not stop the sound. Nearer and nearer it came!
Then, "Bonny laddie, Highland laddie," chanted the pipes. Ian looked up and saw standing before him his Sandy!
Although he was as red and wrinkled and twinkling as before, there was a change. Sandy was very shabby. His coat was stained with the mud and rain of many hard days.
He stopped his playing and stood before the boy. A sad, longing look came into his eyes.
"Ian, lad," he said slowly, "'tis Sandy come back."
And Ian suddenly realized that it was all true and not one of his dreams. He jumped down from the wall and threw his arms about Sandy.