study hard at school, lad?" asked the piper.

"Ay, do I," spoke the boy.

"Then some day, you'll be liking to hear of the fine military school I saw."

THE PIPER LADDIES

"Ach, Sandy, tell me about it. Have you really seen it?" Ian was at once alert.

"Ay, that have I, and only three weeks ago when I was passing by Dunblane."

As the poor little village lad drank in his words, Sandy talked on about the wonderful school in Dunblane. This school is called the Queen Victoria School. Here lads between the ages of nine and fifteen are trained as soldiers.

They are sons of military men, some of whom fell in the World War. These boys are reared and taught free of charge. It is a great and good school for a boy to attend.

THE DRUM MAJOR

To see and hear these sons of Scotland's heroes is an experience never to be forgotten. They present a fine appearance in their bright-colored kilts and military trappings, as they march and play upon their pipes.

Sandy saw and heard, and carried away with him a memory of the loveliest sight and sound imaginable. Coming toward him were boys. Children they were, with their kilts making a vivid pattern.

Their bare knees moved in perfect unison as they stepped to the tunes of Scotland's patriotic melodies. They played in a way unsurpassed by pipers older and more experienced than they.

First came a waltz, gracefully played and gracefully stepped. Then came a march, loud, fast, but always in perfect harmony. The sound might have come from a single organ played, perhaps, by Scottish cherubim.

The drum major wore a plumed helmet and carried a baton. He was only fourteen years old, but he twirled his stick and marched like a veteran of many wars.

THE DRUMMER BOY

The little twelve-year-old drummer swung his drumsticks into the air and caught them again. He never missed a beat on his drum. The rest, pipers all, marched and played. Their cheeks puffed in and out, while their fingers moved and made melodies.

Throughout the hills echoed the sound. It was the same as echoed during the Battle of Bannockburn, when Scottish history was made. To these tunes, in this same rugged country marched, years ago, these lads' ancestors.

And Sandy carried his memories of Queen Victoria School back to Ian Craig. Ian's longing to become a piper grew greater as he listened. In his heart he uttered a silent prayer.

CHAPTER IV

SANDY RETURNS

Though his meeting with Sandy had happened many months before, neither the memory of Sandy nor of the pipers had dimmed in Ian's mind. Through his hours of work and play his thoughts turned to marching Highland laddies and shrieking pipes.

He would often imagine himself as one of their number. Indeed, often on his walks to school he would "make believe," as so many children call it. People would turn to see why the little boy in kilts marched so straight and puffed his cheeks out.