Tam O' The Scoots, Edgar Wallace [highly recommended books TXT] 📗

up to her feet and they lifted the stretcher and slid it gently into the grooved guides on the floor of the ambulance.

"Now--driver," said the doctor with a little smile.

She went to her place and mounted to the seat. The hands that touched the polished wheel trembled and she slipped back to the ground again, her face white.

"I can't--I can't drive him," she said and burst into tears upon Blackie's shoulder.

So Blackie drove the car himself and left his general to wipe Vera's eyes.

A month later Captain Blackie went to Havre to see Tam en route for home.

"You're a wonderful fellow, Tam--you ought to be dead really instead of being bound for England."

"Scotland," corrected Tam.

"But don't you think you're lucky?"

"Weel," said Tam, "I did until the morn, then I struck a verra bad patch."

"Bad luck," said the innocent and surprised Blackie, "I am sorry to hear that. What happened?"

"The big feller, the principal doctor," said Tam, "said I might smoke a wee seegair, and, believe me, Captain Blackie, sir-r, when I looked in ma pooch there wasna a single--"

Blackie took his cigar-case from his pocket, opened and extended it.

"Tam," he said, "you're nearly well."

THE END


Imprint

Publication Date: 08-07-2009

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
To QUENTIN ROOSEVELT AND ALL AIRMEN, FRIEND AND FOE ALIKE, WHO HAVE FALLEN IN CLEAN FIGHTING The world was a puddle of gloom and of shadowy things, He sped till the red and the gold of invisible day Was burnish and flames to the undermost spread of his wings, So he outlighted the stars as he poised in the grey. Nearer was he to the knowledge and splendour of God, Mysteries sealed from the ken of the ancient and wise-- Beauties forbidden to those who are one with the clod-- All that there was of the Truth was revealed to his eyes. Flickers of fire from the void and the whistle of death, Clouds that snapped blackly beneath him, above and beside, Watch him, serene and uncaring--holding your breath, Fearing his peril and all that may come of his pride. Now he was swooped to the world like a bird to his nest, Now is the drone of his coming the roaring of hell, Now with a splutter and crash are the engines at rest-- All's well! E. W.