“You had better give me back the bill of lading and the cases until the proper formalities have been observed.”

“You are perfectly right, my dear sir, and I am extremely obliged to you for your suggestion.”

A few minutes later McKay had possession of the cases.  With the help of some of his uncle’s crew he moved them back to the seaside, where he waited until Hyde’s arrival from the front.  Then they loaded up the greggos on the baggage-animals, and returned to camp in triumph.

From that day the men of the Royal Picts were fairly well off.  Their condition was not exactly comfortable, but they suffered far less than the bulk of their comrades in the Crimea.

Their sheepskin-jackets were not very military in appearance, but they were warm, and their heavy seamen’s boots kept out the wet.  They had a sufficiency of food, too, served hot, and prepared with rough-and-ready skill, under the superintendence of Hyde.

He had struck up a great friendship with a Frenchman, one of the Voltigeurs, in a neighbouring camp, who, in return for occasional nips of sound brandy, brought straight from the Burlington Castle, freely imparted the whole of his culinary knowledge to the quartermaster of the Royal Picts.

“He is a first-class cook,” said Hyde to his friend McKay, “and was trained, he tells me, in one of the best kitchens in Paris.  He could make soup, I believe, out of an old shoe.”

“I can’t think how you get the materials for the men’s meals.  That stew yesterday was never made out of the ration-biscuit and salt pork.  There was fresh meat in it.  Where did you get it?”

Old Hyde winked gravely.

“If I were to tell you it would get about, and the men would not touch it.”

“You can trust me.  Out with it.”

“There’s lots of fresh meat to be got in the camp by those who know where to look for it.  Anatole”—­this was his French friend—­“put me up to it.”

“I don’t understand, Hyde.  What do you mean?”

“I mean that her Majesty’s Royal Picts have been feeding upon horseflesh.  And very excellent meat, too, full of nourishment when it is not too thin.  That is my chief difficulty with what I get.”

“It’s only prejudice, I suppose,” said McKay, laughing; “but it will be as well, I think, to keep your secret.”

But horseflesh was better than no meat, and the men of the Royal Picts throve well and kept their strength upon Hyde’s soups and savoury stews.  Thanks to the care bestowed upon them, the regiment kept up its numbers in a marvellous way—­it even returned more men for duty than corps which had just arrived, and the difference between it and others in the camp-grounds close by was so marked that Lord Raglan came over and complimented Blythe upon the condition of his command.

“I can’t tell how you manage, Blythe,” said his lordship; “I wish we had a few more regiments like the Picts.”