"Come and have some breakfast before you're herded into captivity with the brutal soldiery," said Blackie, and they all went into the mess-room together, and for an hour the room rang with laughter, for both the baron and Captain Blackie were excellent raconteurs. Tam, when he returned, had little to say about his mysterious companion in the air. He thought it was a "French laddie." Nor had he any story to tell about the driving down of the baron's machine. He could only say that he "kent" the baron and had met his Albatross before. He called him the "Croon Prince" because the black crosses painted on his wings were of a more elaborate design than was usual. "You might meet the baron, Tam," said the wing commander. "He's just off to the Cage, and he wants to say 'How-d'-ye-do.'" Tam met the prisoner and shook hands with great solemnity. "Hoo air ye, sir-r?" he asked with admirable sang-froid. "A' seem to remember yer face though A' hae no' met ye--only to shoot at, an' that spoils yeer chance o' gettin' acquainted wi' a body." "I think we've met before," said the baron with a grim little smile. "Oh, before I forget, we very much appreciated your poem, Tam; there are lines in it which were quite beautiful." Tam flushed crimson with pleasure. "Thank ye, sir-r," he blurted. "Ye couldna' 'a' made me more pleased--even if A' killit ye." The baron threw back his head and laughed. "Good-by, Tam--take care of yourself. There's a new man come to us who will give you some trouble." "It's no' Mister MacMuller?" asked Tam eagerly. "Oh--you've heard of Captain Müller?" asked the prisoner interestedly. "Haird?--good Lord, mon--sir-r, A' mean--look here!" He put his hand in his pocket and produced a worn leather case. From this he extracted two or three newspaper cuttings and selected one, headed "German Official." "'Captain Muller,'" read Tam, "'yesterday shot doon his twenty-sixth aeroplane.'" "That's Müller," said the other carefully. "I can tell you no more--except look after yourself." "Ha'e na doot aboot that, sir-r," said Tam with confidence. He went up that afternoon in accordance with instructions received from headquarters to "search enemy territory west of a line from Montessier to St. Pierre le Petit." He made his search, and sailed down with his report as the sun reached the horizon. "A verra quiet joorney," he complained, "A' was hopin' for a squint at Mr. MacMuller, but he was sleeping like a doormoose--A' haird his snoor risin' to heaven an' ma hairt wis sick wi' disappointed longin'. 'Hoo long,' A' says, 'hoo long will ye avoid the doom Tam o' the Scoots has marked ye doon for?' There wis naw reply."