Early one morning a strange, faraway sound floated toward the field. It was a little like a squall, a little like a squall, something like a whimper, but like a wail most of all."" It was, of course, Her Majesty's Scottish Fusiliers marching to their bagpipes in India. When their path went straight to a stubborn peahen implacably roosting on her eggs, they all politely stepped aside. But they left their mark. One of the eggs developed into a peacock with a tail of the same design as the Fusiliers' tartan. He became a favorite of the Scotsmen and an outcast among the other peacocks. But his heroism under fire (forest fire) put him in high style. The colorful, proudly- spread tail makes for a colorful, well-told tall tale. The pictures are expressively silly, richly tinted in watercolor.