Dawson had already throttled the four engines, and was sending the Flying Fortress sliding down through the Pacific night sky in a series of ever widening circles. He circled to port so that he could continually keep his eye on the blinking light that grew bigger and bigger as the Fortress lost altitude. And the light kept on sending two sets of letters. The standard SOS and KDJ. A couple of times Dawson was tempted to signal back that they had caught the signals and were coming down to find out what they could do to help. Each time, though, something seemed to stop him from showing the bomber's signal light. He had even switched off the cockpit light, and he was not allowing the engines to show any exhaust plumes that might reveal the Fortress' exact position. "Guess I must be as jumpy as Freddy!" he grunted to himself. "But maybe it is best to play it safe, even if it must be one of our surface ships down there. There's no telling what can happen next in this cockeyed world. And, boy, Freddy and I should sure know that by now. Yeah! So we'll sneak down and only let them know where we are by what sounds of our engines they can catch." With a nod for emphasis, he flipped up the switch of the Fortress' inter-com system, and put his lips to the mike. "Have you hooked this thing up at your end, Freddy?" he asked into what he guessed was a dead wire. But he was wrong. Young Farmer's voice was in his earphones instantly. "Yes, Dave. Can you see anything yet, besides the signal flashes?" "Nope," Dave replied. "But we're only at eight thousand now. Whoever's signalling is sure a persistent guy, isn't he? Is he so deaf he can't hear us coming down, do you suppose? You haven't caught any different signals, have you?" "The same two groups of signals over and over again," young Farmer replied. "I fancy they'd stop, though, if we acknowledged. But I wouldn't, Dave, if I were you. I still have a funny feeling about this business. It just doesn't seem quite right to me, but blessed if I know why. I ..." Freddy never finished the rest. He never did for the reason that at that exact moment a stab of orange red flame showed down by the blinking light. Dawson saw it and had only time to stiffen slightly in the seat before the night darkness all about the Fortress was lighted up as brilliantly as high noon by a bursting star shell. And hardly had the white light virtually exploded in front of Dawson's face before the air all about was filled with the roaring thunder of bursting flak shells.