And so, southward went the Mitsubishi MK-11. And southward, also, trailed the three Jap Zeros no more than two miles behind, and some four or five thousand feet higher up in the air. And for an hour the picture remained the same. There was nothing to be seen below but the rolling endless swells of that part of the Southwest Pacific. And in the air the three Jap Zeros tagging doggedly along. Ten thousand times, at least, Dawson twisted around for a squint at those trailing Zeros. And ten thousand times, too, he glanced at the last glow of the sun's rays that tinted the western heavens, and at the shadows of night racing up out of the east. Soon, now, night would come with a rush as it always did in that part of the world. Soon darkness would be all about the MK-11, and he and Freddy Farmer could lose those trailing Zeros. Soon-- But at that exact moment he heard Freddy's wild cry of alarm and felt the English youth's fist thump down on his shoulder. "Here they come, Dave!" Freddy cried. "Here come the blighters, blast them!" Dawson instantly twisted around in the seat, and just as quickly cold fear clutched at his heart. It was true enough. The three Zeros had suddenly speeded up. But, more than that, they were coming down in a dive straight for the MK-11. One look at the way those Zeros were piling down and Dawson knew that one of two guesses was true. And possibly both. The Zero pilots had decided that the two youths planned to shake them off in the darkness, after leading them astray. Or else they figured that the American carrier force was due south, and that they could finish off their "unsuspecting victims" and use the rest of the gas in their tanks to get back to their own carrier. It was one or the other, and maybe both. But down they came, anyway, and a spell of cold, helpless fear was Dawson's. "Get set with your rear guns, Freddy!" he called out sharply. "I should have figured this. Those rats are tired of playing around, and I've got a hunch they're going to do something about it. Something not so good for us." "I think so, too!" the English youth called back. "But let them try it, blast them. Frankly, I'm blessed well fed up with being tagged around. So let the blighters come. We'll fight them, if we have to. Jolly well right, we'll fight them!"