tain Blackie, sir-r, and A've a graund poem at the
back of me heid that A'd like to be writing. You'll no' be wanting me?"

"Not till four," said Captain Blackie; "I want you to stand by then in
case Fritz tries something funny. The circus paid a visit to 89
yesterday evening and it may be our turn to-night."

Tam closed and locked the door of his room, produced a large pad of
writing-paper, an ink-well, and fitted his pen with a new nib before he
began his valedictory poem.

Never had a poem been more difficult to write to this ready versifier.
He crossed out and rewrote, he destroyed sheet after sheet before the
rough work of his hands was ready for polishing.

"How may a puir wee airman fly
When ye have carried off his sky?"

the verse began, and perhaps those were the two most extravagant lines
in the farewell verse.

He wrote a fair copy, folded it carefully, inserted it into an envelope
and slipped it into his breast pocket. He was to see Vera that night
and had no other feeling but one of blank helplessness, for he had
neither the right nor the desire to reveal by one word his closely
guarded secret, a secret which he fondly believed was shared by none.

His plan was to give her the envelope on the promise that it should not
be opened and read until she had reached America. He had invented and
carefully rehearsed certain cautious words of farewell, so designed that
she might accept them on the spot as conventional expressions of his
regret at her leaving, but pondering them afterward, could discover in
these simple phrases a hint of his true sentiment.

Such was the difficulty of composition that he was late for parade. All
the squadron which was not actually engaged in routine duty was present.
Ordinarily they would have been dismissed after the briefest wait, but
to-day Blackie kept gunners, observers and pilots standing by their
machines.

At half-past four Blackie hurried across from his office. "There's a
general alarm," he said. "Everybody is to go up. Tam, take number six
and patrol the area."

As the machines rose a big motor-car came flying on to the ground and
two staff officers alighted.

Blackie turned and saluted his brigadier. "We only just got the message
through, sir," he said.

The general nodded. "It was signalled to me on the road," he said; "I
expected it. Who is in charge of that flight?"

"Mr. MacTavish, sir."

"Tam, eh?" The general nodded his approval. "The circ