THE LAST LOAD
examined and sounded stays and struts and shook his head.
"Take up Bartholomew's machine—he went sick this morning," he said.
Tam superintended the preparation of Lieutenant Bartholomew's "pup" and climbing in gave the signal.
"What's the matter with Tam?"
Thornycroft, a flight commander of 89 A, had strolled across and stood with Blackie watching Tam's tiny machine humming cloudward.
"Tam has what is called on the other side a 'hunch,’" said Blackie; "come and look at this machine and see if you can find anything wrong with it. She's new from the maker," he went on, "in fact, the young gentleman who represents the firm is at this moment in the mess laying down the law on aviation, its past, present and illimitable future—there he is!"
Thornycroft paused in his inspection to watch the newcomer. He was a young man
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