-and enjoyed a
fame among the German airmen which was at once flattering and ominous.
Once they dropped a message into the aerodrome. It was short and
humorous, but there was enough truth in the message to give it a bite:

Let us know when Tam is buried, we would a
wreath subscribe.

Officers, German Imperial Air Service.
Section ----

Nothing ever pleased Tam so much as this unsolicited testimonial to his
prowess.

He purred for a week. Then he learned from a German prisoner that the
author of the note was the flyer of a big Aviatic, and went and killed
him in fair fight at a height of twelve thousand feet.

"It was an engrossin' an' thrillin' fight," explained Tam; "the bluid
was coorsin' in ma veins, ma hairt was palpitatin' wi' suppressed
emotion. Roond an' roond ain another the dauntless airmen caircled, the
noo above, the noo below the ither. Wi' supairb resolution Tam o' the
Scoots nose-dived for the wee feller's tail, loosin' a drum at the puir
body as he endeavoured to escape the lichtenin' swoop o' the intrepid
Scotsman. Wi' matchless skeel, Tam o' the Scoots banked over an' brocht
the gallant miscreant to terra firma--puir laddie! If he'd kept ben the
hoose he'd no' be lyin' deid the nicht. God rest him!"

* * * * *

You might see Tam in the early morning, when the world was dark and only
the flashes of guns revealed the rival positions, poised in the early
sun, fourteen thousand feet in the air, a tiny spangle of white, smaller
in magnitude than the fading stars. He seems motionless, though you know
that he is traveling in big circles at seventy miles an hour.

He is above the German lines and the fleecy bursts of shrapnel and the
darker patches where high explosive shells are bursting beneath him,
advertise alike his temerity and the indignation of the enemy.

What is Tam doing there so early?

There has been a big raid in the dark hours; a dozen bombing machines
have gone buzzing eastward to a certain railway station where the German
troops waited in readiness to reinforce either A or B fronts. If you
look long, you see the machines returning, a group of black specks in
the morning sky. The Boches' scouts are up to attack--the raiders go
serenely onward, leaving the exciting business of duel _a l'outrance_ to
the nippy fighting machines which fly above each flank. One such fighter
throws himself at three of the enemy, diving, banking