"Of course I see!" Dawson growled as the English youth paused for breath. "I figured all that out for myself years ago. So what? Have you got anything better?" "I think so," Freddy came right back at him. "Port Moresby in New Guinea, Dave. We still hold Port Moresby. There's a big air base there. And, of course, a radio station. If we can reach Port Moresby we can get them to flash what information we know to Admiral Jackson. At least we can give the alarm that Sasebo's force knows of the Guadalcanal attack, and will probably try to do something about it. That way, at least, the Guadalcanal forces won't be caught by surprise. Also they'll be on the alert in Northern Australia in case Sasebo does go all the way down there. But the big point is, Dave, these Zeros back there couldn't possibly reach Port Moresby with the fuel they carry." Dawson thought that over for a moment or two. Then he nodded his head and grinned at Freddy. "Brains the guy really has got!" he cried. "Take a bow, Freddy. I think you've hit the solution right on the old head. It'll be touch and go whether even we can reach Port Moresby from here. But it's a cinch those Zeros never will. Then, too, when they see us head south they may think we're heading for Jackson's force, and figure that Jackson must be on patrol off the New Guinea coast, which he isn't. Yup! Take a bow, Freddy. But it's going to be close. Plenty close. Just the same, though, there's another little thing in our favor. The time of day, Freddy!" "What's that?" the English-born air ace echoed, and looked puzzled. "The time of day, or I should say night," Dave told him, and jerked his head westward. "In about an hour it's going to be plenty dark. If we haven't shaken them off our tails by then, we can certainly do it in the darkness. And who knows, maybe then we can change course again and find Jackson sometime around dawn. There's nine hours gas in this air buggy, at least. So maybe everything will be okey-doke after all." "Well, anyway, turn south, Dave, and let's keep our fingers crossed," Freddy Farmer grunted. Dave winked, gave Freddy the old two-finger V-for-victory sign, and banked the MK-11 around until he was headed due south. True, his navigation depended only on the compass. And a Jap compass at that. However, he felt sure that if he kept on heading as he was going now he would eventually hit some part of the New Guinea coast. And that would be good enough. He'd find Port Morseby soon afterward, or-- "Or bust a wing in the attempt!" he finished the thought grimly.