“Never,” he wrote afterwards, “had commander been better served, and I shall never forget the feeling of sadness with which I said good-bye to my men who had done so much for me. I looked upon them all, native as well as British, as my valued friends. Riding through the Bolan Pass, I overtook men of the regiments of the Kabul-Kandahar Field Force, marching towards Sibi, thence to disperse to their respective destinations. As I parted with each corps in turn, its band played ‘Auld Lang Syne,’ and I have never since heard the memory-stirring air without its bringing before my eye the last view I had of the Kabul-Kandahar Field Force. I fancy myself crossing, and recrossing, the river which winds through the Pass, I hear the martial beat of the drums, and the plaintive music of the pipes; and I see Riflemen and Goorkhas, Highlanders and Sikhs, guns and horses, camels and mules, with all the endless following of an Indian army, winding through the narrow gorges or over the interminable boulders.” It was this vivid picture that came back to the author upon that bleak November day of 1914, when the Indian soldiers, under the grey English heaven, went winding through the rain-driven streets of London. From far away sounded the deep salutation of the guns, the tolling of a bell, the wailing of the pipes. Thirty-four years had passed, and once again “Riflemen and Goorkhas, Highlanders and Sikhs, guns and horses” passed like the ghosts of long ago, or a dream of past achievement and work well done before the falling of the night. BATTLE HONOURS OF THE SEAFORTH HIGHLANDERS (ROSS-SHIRE BUFFS, THE DUKE OF ALBANY’S). Carnatic, Mysore, Hindoostan; Cape of Good Hope, 1806; Maida, Java; South Africa, 1835; Sevastopol, Persia, Koosh-ab, Lucknow, Central India, Peiwar Kotal, Charasiah; Kabul, 1879; Kandahar, 1880; Afghanistan, 1878-1880; Egypt, 1882; Tel-el-Kebir, Chitral, Atbara, Khartoum; South Africa, 1899-1902; Paardeberg. CHAPTER XX MAJUBA HILL (1881) Up beyond the Inyati, where the frontier ranges rise, Dark and lonely looms the mountain evil-starred; Staring southward for the column, keeping vigil ’gainst surprise, Standing grimly like a sentinel on guard. But at night strange sounds re-echo, and dim phantoms rise from rest, And the voices of dead captains call again; Through the winds that wail and whimper round Majuba’s haunted crest, That is peopled by the spirits of the slain. JOHN SANDES.