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MacMuller, but he was sleeping like a doormoose A' haird his snoor risin' to heaven an' ma hairt wis sick wi' disappointed longin'. 'Hoo long, A' says, 'hoo long will ye avoid the doom Tam o' the Scoots has marked ye doon for? There wis naw reply." "I've discovered Tam's weird pal," said Blackie, coming into the mess before lunch the next day.
"A' remembered it when A' met MacMuller. Though A'm no particular hoo A'm buried, A'm entitled to a Wee Kirk meenister. Mony's the time A've put a penny i' the collection. It sair grievit me to waste guid money, but me auld mither watchit me like a cat, an' 'twere as much as ma life was worth to pit it in ma breeches pocket."
Near his own lines he came up with the circling "Frenchman" and received his thanks four fingers extended in the air before the signaler, taking a route within the lines, streaked for home. "Phew!" said Tam, shaking his head. "Who were you chasing?" asked Blackie. "He can go!" "Yon's MacMuller," said Tam, jerking his thumb at the eastern sky.
"Captain Blackie, sir-r, A've got ma ain idea what B. I. stands for. It's no complimentary to the inventor. If sax is better, than A'm goin' to believe in an auld sayin'." "What is that, Tam?" "'Theer's safety in numbers," said Tam, "an' the while A'm on the subject of leeterature A'd like yeer opinion on a vairse A' made aboot Mr. MacMuller."
"Aye," said Tam quietly, "an' suppose A'm goin' oop wi' matchless coorage to save ma frien's frae the ravishin' Hoon an' ma machine plays hookey? Would it no' be worse for a' concairned, than if A' smash oop by mesel'?" "Did you see Müller?" "In the clouds. A' left him hauldin' a committee-meetin', Captain MacMuller in the cheer.
"Well," replied Tam cautiously, "A' do an' A' doon't it's for ma frien', Fitzroy McGinty, the celebrated MacMuller mairderer." Galbraith looked at him with laughter in his eyes. "Fitzroy McGinty? And who the devil is Fitzroy McGinty?" Tam cleared his throat "Ma frien' Fitzroy McGinty is, like Tam, an oornament o' the Royal Fleein' Coor.
"A' wonder what ma frien' MacMuller is thinkin' the morn?" asked Tam; "wi' a wan face an' a haggaird een, he'll be takin' a moornfu' farewell o' the Croon Prince Ruppect. "'Ye're a brave lad, says the Croon Prince, 'but maybe Tam's awa'. "'Naw, says MacMuller, shakin' his heid, 'A've a presentiment that Tam's no' awa'. He'll be oop-stairs waitin' to deal his feelon's-blow.
"It's no' Mister MacMuller?" asked Tam eagerly. "Oh you've heard of Captain Müller?" asked the prisoner interestedly. "Haird? good Lord, mon sir-r, A' mean look here!" He put his hand in his pocket and produced a worn leather case. From this he extracted two or three newspaper cuttings and selected one, headed "German Official."
"A' thocht for aboot three seconds he was acceptin' the challenge o' the Glasca' Ganymede A'm no' so sure o' Ganymede; A' got him oot of the sairculatin' library an' he was verra dull except the bit wheer he went oop in the air on the back of an eagle an' dropped his whustle. But MacMuller wasn't so full o' ficht as a' that." He walked away, but stopped and came back. "A'm a Wee Kirker," he said.
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