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Updated: June 13, 2025
Such work offered peculiar opportunities to small and well-handled parties opportunities of which Bobby Little's veterans availed themselves right readily. Angus M'Lachlan, for instance, accompanied by a small following of seasoned experts, had twice rounded up parties of the enemy in cellars, and had despatched the same back to Headquarters with his compliments and a promise of more.
Well, better men had gone before them. Perhaps Fingers of steel bit into his biceps muscle, and the excited whinny of Angus M'Lachlan besought him to look! Down in the forest something stirred. But it was not the note of a bird, as the song would have us believe.
Some even play ensued, and then the Vale had a run by the right forwards, and, in kicking clear, Arnott slipped a bit, and the ball, getting the upper of his boot, rolled over the lines and gave the Vale of Leven a corner-flag kick. It was taken by M'Lachlan, but he cut the distance too fine, and the ball rolled harmlessly over the bar.
Two minutes later Angus M'Lachlan and his posse rolled over the parapet, safe and sound, and Bobby was able, to his own great content and that of the weary operators along the line, to announce, "The patrol has returned, sir, and reports everything quite satisfactory. I am forwarding a detailed statement."
Angus M'Lachlan waited anxiously for a little praise. "Jolly good piece of work," said Major Wagstaffe at last. "But tell me, why have you repaired the Boche wire instead of your own?" "The only enemy we have to fear," continued Colonel Kemp, rubbing his spectacles savagely, "is the free and independent British voter I mean, the variety of the species that we have left at home.
Among these Angus M'Lachlan numbered himself, and he made no attempt to conceal the fact. The novelty of the sights around him was almost too much for his insouciant dignity as a commissioned officer. Angus M'Lachlan was a son of the Manse, and incidentally a child of Nature.
He could go no further without being seen. Between him and the German gun lay the cobbled surface of the street, offering no cover whatsoever except one mighty shell-crater, situated midway between Angus and the gun, and full to the brim with rainwater. A single peep over the wall gave him his bearings. The gun was too far away to be reached by a grenade, even when thrown by Angus M'Lachlan.
After the kick-out, the Vale of Leven men made a fine run up on the Queen's Park goal, and M'Lachlan had a long shy that caused Gillespie to throw away the ball in a hurry. The strangers played well together, and had by far the best of it, and made the Q.P. backs work about as they had never done before.
On behalf of the colonists, a gentleman named M'Lachlan went to London for the purpose of laying before Mr. Gladstone the grievances under which they suffered; at the same time, within the colony, Mr. Pitcairn strenuously exerted himself to prepare petitions against transportation, and to forward them to the Imperial authorities.
It was to be led by Angus M'Lachlan, and was to slip over the parapet on a given moonless night, crawl across No Man's Land to within striking distance of the German trench, and wait. At a given moment the signal for attack would be given, and the wire demolished by a means which need not be specified here.
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