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They darted heether and theether wi' their remorseless pairsuer on their heels an' the seenister sound of his bullets whistlin' in their lugs. Ain by ain the enemy is defeated, fa'ing like Lucifer in a flamin' shrood. Soodenly Mr. Lasky turns verra pale. Heavens! A thocht has strook him. Where is Tam the Scoot?
"I'll read you the poem, Captain Blackie, sir-r," said Tam nervously, and after much coughing he read: "A graund an' nooble clood Was the flyin' hero's shrood Who dies at half-past seven And he verra well desairves The place that God resairves For the men who die in Heaven. "A've signed it, 'Kind regards an' deepest sympathy wi' a' his loved ains," said Tam.
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