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"This morning, through H. Q. Intelligence." "Tam will be awfully bucked," said somebody. "He was complaining yesterday that life was getting too monotonous. By the way, we ought to drop a wreath for poor old von Zeidlitz." "Tam will do it with pleasure," said Blackie; "he always liked von Zeidlitz he called him 'Fritz Fokker' ever since the day von Zeidlitz nearly got Tam's tail down."
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 wonderful battles of Rossbach and Leuthen reconciled him to life. The former was not, as is well known, his work, as it was almost gained before he well knew what was going on: it was due principally to the indomitable bravery of Zeidlitz and the cavalry.
He went off to his breakfast and later, when Blackie came in search for him, he found him lying on his bed smoking a long black cigar, his eyes glued to the pages of "Texas Tom, or the Road Agent's Revenge." "I forgot to tell you, Tam," said Captain Blackie, "that von Zeidlitz is down." "Doon?" said Tam, "'Fritz Fokker' doon? Puir laddie! He were a gay fichter who straffit him?"
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