"Good grief, the blighter is in a hurry, isn't he?" Freddy Farmer breathed as they walked over toward the plane, a Wright-powered Vultee attack bomber. "But why did you fill him with all that junk about a huge Jap attack force?" "Well, you said you heard on good authority that there was one, didn't you?" Dawson chuckled. "And, I just don't like efficient stuffed shirts like him. I like to see them get their whiskers burned. Anyway, I'm hoping that the C.O. of this field is the kind of a bird who'll do it. We'll know when Major Importance comes out. Well, anyway, we've got a nice job to fly. And we should see quite a bit of this down-under continent by the time we hit Sydney." "You take the scenery," Freddy Farmer grunted, and stowed his kit in the Vultee's pit. "I'll take Sydney as fast as I can get it. Lord, Dave! Do you suppose General MacArthur himself wants to see us?" "Nope," Dawson replied instantly, and tossed his kit aboard. "If the orders had read for me to report _alone_, I'd say probably. But we are both to report, so meeting the general is definitely out, if you get what I mean?" Freddy Farmer glared and stuck out his tongue. "Too bad you were wearing those wings at the wrong time!" he snapped. "But pardon me, old thing, for stirring that brain of yours. You aren't wondering about the future any more, are you? Well, let's get on with it. Half a moment, though. As I recall, it's my turn to pilot. So get into the gunner's seat, young man. Up with you!" Dave shook his head, and grinned. "Let me sky-steer her this time, as a favor, Freddy," he pleaded. Then, as he looked past Farmer toward the field office, he added quickly, "There isn't time to explain, but be a good guy and let me take her off. I'll remember you in my will, if you do." The English youth started to shake his head, but something he saw in Dawson's face suddenly caused him to change his mind. He let out a resigned sigh, and shrugged. "Right you are, then," he grunted. "But I think I'm a fool to let you. You're up to something!" "Me?" Dave murmured innocently, and strapped on his parachute pack. "Perish the thought, sweetheart. I just like to pilot. Oh-oh! Somebody got choked off plenty, but is trying not to show it!" That somebody was the staff major. He came over to the plane very flushed in the face, and with an ugly look in his eye. "You reported that rumor to the commanding officer, sir?" Dave asked politely. "I did!" the other snapped, and let it go at that. Then, suddenly pointing a stiff finger at Dawson, he barked, "And just what do you call _that_, Captain?"