THE STRAFING OF MÜLLER
spotter with its straw-stuffed observer when Tam dived for him.
All that the nursing of a highly trained mechanic could give to an engine, all of precision that a cold blue eye and a steady hand could lend to a machine gun, all that an unfearing heart could throw into that one wild, superlative fling, Tam gave. The engine pulled to its last ounce, the wings and stays held to the ultimate stress.
"Tam!" said Müller to himself and smiled, for he knew that death had come.
He fired upward and banked over—then he waved his hand in blind salute, though he had a bullet in his heart and was one with the nothingness about him.
Tam swung round and stared fiercely as Müller's machine fell. He saw it strike the earth, crumple and smoke.
"Almichty God," said the lips of Tam, "look after that yin! He wis a bonnie fichter an' had a gay hairt, an' he knaws richt weel A' had no malice agin him—Amen!"
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