THE COMING OF MÜLLER
ward from the clouds. "But I'm afraid it's not Müller this time."
It was not. Tam returned morose and uncommunicative. His anger was increased when the intercepted wireless came to hand in the evening:
"Captain Miiller shot down his twenty-seventh aeroplane."
That night, when the mess was sitting around after dinner, Tam appeared with a big armful of cigars.
"What's the matter with 'em?" asked Blackie in mock alarm.
"They're a' that Mister Carter bocht," said Tam untruthfully, "an' A' thocht ye'd wish to ha'e a few o' the laddie's seegairs."
Nobody was deceived. They pooled the cigars for the mess and Tam went back to his quarters lighter of heart. He slept soundly and was wakened an hour before dawn by his batman.
"‘The weary roond, the deely task,’" quoted Tam, taking the steaming mug of tea from his servant's hands. "What likes the mornin', Horace?"
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