"I don't know that I've a right to tell you, Freddy," he finally said, and tugged at his chin with a thumb and forefinger. "A right to tell me what?" young Farmer demanded. "Come off it, Dave! Stop being so blasted mysterious. You and I've always shared everything, haven't we?" "Everything, except food," Dawson ribbed him. "You never were anybody's pal when you had the feed bag on. But I guess it's all right to tell you. It's because of what General Eisenhower said." "To who?" Freddy asked. "To whom, is what you mean, little man," Dawson said with a straight face. "What he said to _me_ when he called me down to London High Command H.Q." Freddy Farmer opened his mouth to speak, but a wrathful snort came out of it instead. "I might have known!" he growled. "General Eisenhower call you to his headquarters? Rot! Pure rot!" "Okay, then, have it your way," Dawson sighed, and returned his attention to his book. Freddy glared at him for a few seconds, then gave a little resigned shake of his head, and took a deep breath. "Very well," he said, "I might as well let you get it all off your chest. And what did General Eisenhower say to you, my good man?" "For two cents I wouldn't tell you!" Dawson grunted. "But I don't really need the money, so I will. The general told me that we were all being sent back here for a home stay because the invasion of Hitler's Europe is _not_ bound to pop 'most any day, as you have just so glibly remarked." "Really, Dave?" Freddy Farmer gasped. "Honest? You mean...? Oh, blast you, stop pulling my leg! I know perfectly well that General Eisenhower didn't say a word to you. You didn't even see him!" Dawson grinned, and opened his mouth. But he closed it when he saw the look on young Farmer's face. Instead, he shook his head gravely. "No, Freddy," he said. "The general didn't say a thing to me. It's dollars to doughnuts that he doesn't even know I exist. But I put it that way so's you'd catch on." "Catch on to what?" Freddy wanted to know. Dawson threw up his hands in exasperation. "Sweet tripe, Freddy!" he cried. "It's past noon! Aren't you awake yet? It's obvious, pal, isn't it? Obvious that the invasion isn't going to pop right away. The High Command is marking time while the bomber boys give Germany a good going-over. So the experienced pilots that aren't needed in England have been sent back here to help with the training program. Don't worry, when the big show starts we'll be yanked back there, but fast. _That's_ why I'm not tearing out my hair because I've been stuck on this instructing job. Because I know that when it's time for the balloon to go up I'll be sent there. And so will you. And so will all the others that flew back from England with us. Now do I make sense to you?" Freddy Farmer nodded, but he didn't say anything for a moment. "Yes, you're quite right, I fancy," he murmured presently. "I must be slipping way off the beam not to have figured that out for myself. But I wonder how long?"