“And the big drummer the other half,” added Ethel. “Look at his sticks. He's got a classy twirl, hasn't he?”
Gorgeous they were, their white spats flashing in time with their step, their kilts swaying free over their tartan hose and naked knees, their white tunics gleaming through the dusk of the evening, and over all the tossing plumes of their great feather bonnets nodding rhythmically with their swinging stride.
“Mighty glad we have not to fight those boys,” said Frank as the column swung past into the armoury.
The crowd which on other occasions would have broken into enthusiastic cheers to-night stood in silence while the Highlanders in all their gorgeous splendour went past. That grave silence was characteristic of the Winnipeg crowds those first days of war. Later they found voice.
“Now we can go in. Come right along,” said Smart. “Stand clear there, boys. You can't go in unless you have an order.”
“We ar-r-e wantin' tae join,” said a Scotch voice.
“You are, eh? Come along then. Fall into line there.” The men immediately dropped into line. “Ah, you have been there before, I see,” said Smart.
“Aye, ye'er-r-r right ther-r-re, sir-r-r,” answered the voice.
“You will be for the Kilties, boys?” said Frank.
“Aye. What else?” asked the same man in surprise.