Gasping and panting for breath, he managed to flop back onto his other side. But for a couple of minutes he could see nothing but blurs because of the dancing white spots. Then as his vision cleared he saw the huddled form of Freddy Farmer on the floor not four feet from him. Freddy was trussed up, too, and his eyes were closed tight as though in deep sleep. A terrible fear gripped Dawson as he stared at his flying pal, and then his heart began to beat again when he saw that Freddy was breathing regularly. Over beyond Freddy on the opposite wall was a small window. But it was so high up from the floor that it was more like a skylight. And when Dawson twisted his head back so that he could look up at it, he saw four pale squares of light. The pale light from outside seeped down through the four small panes of glass that made up the window. "Dawn," he muttered. "It must be close to dawn, or else that glass is plenty dirty. I'll ... _Dawn?_ But it was early evening when it happened. Well, not later than nine o'clock, anyway. Yeah! Freddy disappeared, and then yelled. I went hunting for him, and ... bingo! I got clouted, and there was a funny smell. Something like this, and ..." He cut off the rest with a groan and closed his stinging eyes tight as he tried to force his brain back in memory and recall what else had followed. But he couldn't remember anything else. Yes, a sort of hissing sound, that dank, musty smell, and then ... and then the lights had gone out for him. He groaned again, opened his eyes and looked at Freddy Farmer. He tried for a moment or two to wiggle and edge closer, but the white pain in his wrists and ankles made him give it up. "Freddy, Freddy!" he called out softly. "Can you hear me, Freddy? Open your eyes, pal. This is Dave. Can you hear me, Freddy?" Young Farmer's eyelids seemed to flutter a bit, but they did not open immediately. A tremor ran down the youth's body. Dave saw him quiver, and then heard him sigh. Then presently young Farmer opened his eyes, and just gaped blankly. "Freddy, it's Dave!" Dawson said sharply. "How are you, Freddy? Okay, pal? Say something, won't you?" The English-born air ace continued to stare blank-eyed for a moment or two longer. Then he blinked rapidly, and frowned. "What's the matter, Dave?" he asked. "Where are we? What are we...? Ouch! I say, what the heck is up? I can't move. My feet and hands are tied! I say!" "Me, too, Freddy," Dawson said quickly, and tried to grin but without much success. "But I don't know any of the answers. I just woke up. Look, what happened to you last night?" "To me, last night?" young Farmer murmured. Then in a startled voice. "_Last night_, you said? You mean...? I mean, this isn't last night? I mean, this isn't tonight. I ... Oh, good grief, what do I mean?"