which enabled him to keep his eye
upon the redoubtable fighter.

Then, without warning, the German banked over and headed straight for
Tam, his machine-gun stuttering. Tam turned to meet him. They were less
than half a mile from each other and were drawing together at the rate
of two hundred miles an hour. There were, therefore, just ten seconds
separating them. What maneuver Mueller intended is not clear. He
knew--and then he realized in a flash what Tam was after.

Round he went, rocking like a ship at sea. A bullet struck his wheel and
sent the smashed wood flying. He nose-dived for his own lines and Tam
glared down after him.

Mueller reached his aerodrome and was laughing quietly when he
descended.

"I met Tam," he said to his chief; "he tried to ram me at sixteen
thousand feet--Oh, yes. I came down, but--_ich habe das nicht
gewollt!_--I did not will it!"

Tam returned to his headquarters full of schemes and bright "thochts."

"You drove him down?" said the delighted Blackie. "Why, Tam, it's fine!
Mueller never goes down--you've broken one of his traditions."

"A' wisht it was ain of his heids," said Tam. "A' thocht for aboot three
seconds he was acceptin' the challenge o' the Glasca' Ganymede--A'm no'
so sure o' Ganymede; A' got him oot of the sairculatin' library an' he
was verra dull except the bit wheer he went oop in the air on the back
of an eagle an' dropped his whustle. But MacMuller wasn't so full o'
ficht as a' that."

He walked away, but stopped and came back.

"A'm a Wee Kirker," he said. "A' remembered it when A' met MacMuller.
Though A'm no particular hoo A'm buried, A'm entitled to a Wee Kirk
meenister. Mony's the time A've put a penny i' the collection. It sair
grievit me to waste guid money, but me auld mither watchit me like a
cat, an' 'twere as much as ma life was worth to pit it in ma breeches
pocket."

* * * * *

Tam spent the flying hours of the next day looking for his enemy, but
without result. The next day he again drew blank, and on the third day
took part in an organized raid upon enemy communications, fighting his
way back from the interior of Belgium single-handed, for he had allowed
himself to be "rounded out" and had to dispose of two enemy machines
before he could go in pursuit of the bombing squadrons. In consequence,
he had to meet and reject the attentions of every ruffled enemy that the
bombers and their bullies had fought in passing.