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There descended a slight figure in khaki. It was the King the King whom Private M'Slattery had never seen. Another figure followed, and another. "Herself iss there too!" whinnied an excited Highlander on M'Slattery's right. "And the young leddy! Pless me, they are all for walking town the line on their feet. And the sun so hot in the sky! We shall see them close!"

Then a voice said, apparently in M'Slattery's ear "A magnificent body of men, Colonel. I congratulate you." A minute later M'Slattery was aroused from his trance by the sound of the Colonel's ringing voice "Highlanders, three cheers for His Majesty the King!" M'Slattery led the whole Battalion, his glengarry high in the air.

To such, Royalty is simply the head and corner-stone of a legal system which officiously prevents a man from being drunk and disorderly, and the British Empire an expensive luxury for which the working man pays while the idle rich draw the profits. If M'Slattery's opinion of the Civil Code was low, his opinion of Military Law was at zero.

For the Scottish, artisan the word "minister," however, has only one significance; so it is probable that M'Slattery's strictures were occasioned by sectarian, rather than racial, prejudice. Still, whatever our ultimate destination and fate may be, the fact remains that we are now as fit for active service as seven months' relentless schooling, under make-believe conditions, can render us.