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All this and more would have gone to form the preliminary chapter of the true version of Tam's code of attack. "He's a rum bird, is Tam," said Captain Blackie at breakfast; "he brought down von Zeidlitz yesterday." "Is von Zeidlitz down?" demanded half a dozen voices, and Blackie nodded. "He was a good, clean fighter," said young Carter regretfully. "When did you hear this, sir?"

The luck was not altogether against him, for, if every man had his due, von Rheinhoff should have added Tam's scalp to the list of his thirty-one victims.

Some considerate person had put some straw and old bags in the "carriage" to make it more comfortable, and a few of the wags had chalked inscriptions, the reverse of complimentary, all over it. "There, noo', boys," said old Lauder, who had been busy hanging lighted pit lamps round Tam's cap, "gi'e him a guid run to the bottom, and see that he gets a guid bump in the lye."

"Gae awa'! Ye ken fine I canna sing like you, Geordie," and there was a hint of assumed bashfulness in Tam's voice as he spoke. "Come on, Tam. There's to be nae jookin' oot o' it. It's to be a sang roon' aboot, so you micht as weel begin noo, an' get your turn by." "Ay, come on," chimed in Walker. "Let us enjoy oorsel' the nicht, when we are in a mood for it.

The pity is that a Scottish edition was not prepared in Tam's own language; and Captain Blackie, who elaborated Tam's rough notes and condensed into a few lines Tam's most romantic descriptions, had suggested such an edition for very private circulation. It would have begun somewhat like this: "The Hoon or Gairman is a verra bonnie fichter, but he has nae ineetiative.

With philosophy it would bring thought the material to work on. Without philosophy it would simply distract and irritate the mind." "Name, name!" cried the fellows. "The winner of the Raeburn," said Thomas Aquinas, "is Mr. John Gourlay." Gourlay and his friends made for the nearest public-house. The occasion, they thought, justified a drink. The others chaffed Gourlay about Tam's advice.

The fight was now between two machines, the maneuvers were repeated, the same knitting of some queer design until "Got him!" yelled the general. The German plane fell in that slow spiral which told its own tale to the expert watchers. Then suddenly his nose went down and he crashed. "Who's the man? Tam, for a ducat!" Blackie nodded. Tam's machine was planing down to earth.

And it seemed the solan understood about knives, for nae suner did the steel glint in the sun than he gied the ae squawk, but laigher, like a body disappointit, and flegged aff about the roundness of the craig, and Tam saw him nae mair. And as sune as that thing was gane, Tam's held drapt upon his shouther, and they pu'd him up like a deid corp, dadding on the craig. Up he sat.

Captain Beresford thought the poor man might be disposed of at Port Mahon, and Arthur kept to himself that Tam's bequest was sacred to him. His next wish was for clothes to which he might have a better right than to the uniform of the senior midshipman of H.M.S. Calypso a garb in which he did not like to appear before the French Consul. Mr.

Presently he saw the sunlight reflected on the upper stratas and began to climb steeply. His machine ripped out into the sun, a fierce, roaring little fury. Not a hundred yards away was a fighting machine. "Ticka ticka ticka ticka tick!" said Tam's machine-gun. Tam's staring blue eyes were on the sights he could not miss.