Connecticut western news., 1900-07-12
THE PASSING
 OF THE LAIRD
A Story of the South African War.

o~o-~o~o-o~o~oo oo~o-o-o~o-o-o
 It was that field of dread memory Magersfontein. From dawn-when the belching hill front of fire had moved ,n swGthes the ranks of the Black Watch-till dusk-when the last gun had sent its whistling shrapnel-the air had seemed to live and screech and scream and to main, blast and wither the men of the Highland brigade.
 The dark African night had flung its blackness over Magersfontein, and in the scanty scrub and hollows remained those who could not we'll retire when the bugles, with reluctant notes, sound ed the retreat.
 Piper Duncan Farquharson sat up and groaned. His last experience of life had been rather mixed. He re- membered retiring behind a wire fence, and after he had scampered over the veldt a few dozen yards something happened. What this was Duncan was uncertain, but as he felt his head he knew he had been hit
 The blood had caked hard on his
  began anew to trickle down his face. He took out his handkerchief and band aged his wounds as well as he could.
 His pipes were safe. He could feel the reeds lying over his knees. He bent to grasp them.
 He was tormented with an awful thirst. Ills water bottle was still in- tact, and he raised 1t to his lips. Still the thirst continued.
 He sat up and considered. Where was his company? Where was the captain and his lieutenant, the young laird, who bore the same name as he bore? He.w would go to them. So he went.
 He rose up and, reeling, fell. He rose again and once more came down. Then he crawled. There were groans and curses aud sobs from the darkness, and sometimes a wild yell tore the night asunder. There were calls for water In all the dialects spoken north of the Tweed and In many forms of southern Anglo Saxon. Duncan crawled through them. At last he came to the barbed wire en- tanglements. AS he crawled through these the barbs tore his kilt and hose, and he felt them enter his flesh, but at last he threw himself clear. Then he rolled down a short way, and a powder brought him up. He put out his hand to protect his face and caught another hand, cold and clammy, In his own. The other groaned aloud. 'Is that you, lairdY' said Piper Dun- can Farquharson. "Ah, it's you, Duncan" said Lieuten- ant Duncan Farquharson. "Ah, it's me, laird. Are ye sair hurtit"
 "Oh, don't know, Duncan. For heavens sake, if you have any water, give me some!'
 "I've nae water, laird, but I'll get ye some. Ye are awful caur, though" said the piper.
 He took off his tunic and wrapped the laird in 1t as we'll as could be done under the circumstances. The laird suddenly stirred. Do you mind the loch your father | and we two used to fish at the back O I Ben-d-houran? Now, was it a Jock Scott he used? don't remember" He shiyered; then he came back to | Magersfontein.
 Duncan, lad, if you can move, bring | me a drink of water" Duncan sat still and felt his head. | He heard with his ears, but his brain had not yet comprehended. Then consciousness returned to him. He must obey the laird. | It was In these circumstances that | Piper Farquharson robbed the dead on Magersfontein.
 His field of operation was limited, l but he had many within 1t, limited | though 1t might be. Duncan pillaged from an officer a sill | yer flask which It's owner would never more require.
 With other melancholy loot Duncan crawled slowly back to the laird. and feeling for his face, he poured whisky and water between his lips. The laird caught his trembling hand. Steady, Duncan! I've enough. I'm | going. Keep 1t for yourself" I Nb, udr idlEup Ldh Soblc uiuL o l- I'll talk some myself, though" l He drank the mixture, and, as the | spirit brought back life into his trem- bling frame, he said:
 Man, laird, I houp that officer chiel was a good levin man. He deserves to gang to a place there's nae sich a drought as there's here"
 You were always plucky, Duncan" said the lieutenant. But I'm going" His voice was now at a whisper. | 'Na, na; yell talk anither drappiev' said the piper, and again he poured a few drops between the laird's lips.
 Duncan, could you play a march be- fore I goY
 'I'll try, but ma held awful queer Hiv ye my pipesp'
 "Yes; l kept them in my left hand"
 Piper Farquharson tuned his pipes.
 'Now, the 'Haughs O. Cromdale,' Duncan. I'm going" whispered the laird.
 'Na, na; yer nae gaun, laird! I'll play ye a reel" And over the desolation Aoated the springing crispness of the 42arth Hunt"
 From the darkness the sentries on the heights and In the trenches fired off their rifles, and their sleepy com rades stood to their arms. These yer \ AnrsxAd rrAtticpat rOoinpka were to makp