After the stampede of the bullocks Percy Buckham had moved his headquarters to the Black Corrie and it was there that he was concentrating his forces for the attack he had planned on Glenbogle Castle. The small columns which had been operating during the week against notice-boards of ‘No Camping’ had by now all reached the Black Corrie, the only loss suffered having been the destruction of the equipment of one column on Ben Cruet by Neil Maclennan and the bit taken out of the leg of Hiker Charles Cudlipp, who had been left on guard. Instead of the force of half a dozen strong reconnoitred by Roddy Maclean, there were now thirty-six hikers with one casualty and sixteen hikeresses, two of whom—Margery Pidcock and Gladys Woodmonger—were casualties, the former having been stung on the upper slopes of her thigh by two wild bees and the latter’s nerves not having yet recovered from being suddenly awakened by a bullock blowing on her face. Moreover, seventeen hikers and twelve hikeresses were expected to join the party in the course of to-day and to-morrow.

“Frankly, I don’t see what can stand against us, Mr Prew,” said Percy Buckham, fixing his chief-of-staff with two eyes that resembled animated essence of beef.

“No, indeed, Mr Buckham. I cannot see myself.”

“What is it, Miss Butterworth?”

A plump young woman in dark crimson corduroy shorts which matched her countenance was standing all of a tremble like a wine jelly before the leader’s tent.

“Please, Mr Buckham,’ she panted. “Arthur Blencoe has signalled he can see the enemy approaching.”

Percy Buckham leapt to his feet and blew his whistle. Hikers and hikeresses hurried from every direction to gather round and hear his orders.

“Hiker Williamson!” he rapped out.

“Here I am, Mr Buckham.”

“Take six men and debouch from the entrance of the corrie.”

“Very good, Mr Buckham.”

“And when you’ve debouched, don’t forget to deploy.”

“I won’t, Mr Buckham.”

“Hiker Hughes, get in touch with Hiker Blencoe. Hiker Rosebotham, get your men up to the ridge. Hiker Hickey, take your column over to the left above the corrie and nip any attempt by the enemy at an enveloping movement in the bud. Mr Prew, muster the mobile reserve and keep in touch with me.”

“Where are you going, Mr Buckham?” asked Mr Prew, who was a little annoyed to find himself left in charge of the mobile reserve, a female corps.

“I am leading the attack with the main body. And mind, Mr Prew, if you have to debouch with the mobile reserve, don’t forget to deploy immediately.”