"Tairn him, Archie!" groaned Tam, and as though the earth gunners had heard his plea, a screen of bursting shrapnel rose before the dragon-fly. He turned and nose-dived with Tam behind him, but now his nose was for home, and Tam, after a five-mile pursuit, came round and made for home also. Near his own lines he came up with the circling "Frenchman" and received his thanks--four fingers extended in the air--before the signaler, taking a route within the lines, streaked for home. "Phew!" said Tam, shaking his head. "Who were you chasing?" asked Blackie. "He can go!" "Yon's MacMuller," said Tam, jerking his thumb at the eastern sky. "He's a verra likeable feller--but a wee bit too canny an' a big bit too fast. Captain Blackie, sir-r, can ye no get me a machine that can flee? Ma wee machine is no' unlike a hairse, but A'm wishfu' o' providin' the coorpse." "You've got the fastest machine in France, Tam," said the captain. Tam nodded. "It's verra likely--she wis no' runnin' so sweet," he confessed. "But, mon! That Muller! He's a braw Hoon an' A'm encouraged by the fine things that the baron said aboot ma poetry. Ech! A've got a graund vairse in ma heid for Mr. Muller's buryin'! Hae ye a seegair aboot ye, Captain Blackie? A' gave ma case to the Duke of Argyle an' he has no' retairned it." CHAPTER III THE COMING OF MÜLLER There arrived one day at the aerodrome a large packing-case addressed "Sergeant Tam." There was no surname, though there was no excuse for the timidity which stopped short at "Tam." The consignor might, at least, have ventured to add a tentative and inquiring "Mac?" Tam took the case into his little "bunk" and opened it. The stripping of the rough outer packing revealed a suave, unpolished cedar cabinet with two doors and a key that dangled from one of the knobs. Tam opened the case after some consideration and disclosed shelf upon shelf tightly packed with bundles of rich, brown, fragrant cigars. There was a card inscribed: "Your friend in the Merman pusher." "Who," demanded Tam, "is ma low acqueentance, who dispoorts himsel' in an oot-o'-date machine?" Young Carter, who had come in to inspect the unpacking, offered a suggestion. "Probably the French machine that is always coming over here to see you," he said, "Mr. Thiggamy-tight, the American." "Ah, to be sure!" said Tam relieved. "A' thocht maybe the Kaiser had sent me droogged seegairs--A'm an awfu' thorn in the puir laddie's side. Ye may laugh, Mister Carter, but A' reca' a case wheer a bonnie detective wi' the same name as ye'sel', though A' doot if he wis related to ye, was foiled by the machinations o' Ferdie the Foorger at the moment o' his triumph by the lad gieing him a seegair soaked in laud'num an' chlorofor-rm!" He took a bundle, slipped out two cigars, offered one to his officer, after a brief but baffling examination to discover which was the worse, and lit the other.