TAM O' THE SCOOTS
daring, the most venomous of the scouts—those swift-flying spitfires of the clouds—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.
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
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