"Here, Dawson, steady!" he heard Colonel Welsh shout. "Good grief!" cried a third voice. "Look at his chest! Good grief. The man's hit bad. Here, somebody...!" But Dawson didn't hear any more. The Carrier Carson turned upside down and smashed him on the head with its flight deck. Then there was nothing but complete silence and utter darkness. * * * * * It was a beautiful pink-tinted cloud that was carrying Dawson through a beautiful world filled with soft and soothing music. Never had he felt so rested, and so comfortable. So much so that he just couldn't be bothered trying to figure out where he was, or what had happened to put him there. Maybe it was Heaven. He didn't know, and he didn't care. If it wasn't Heaven, then it was certainly the next best thing. Whatever it was it suited him perfectly, and he was quite willing to stay where he was indefinitely. However, that was not to be! The pink cloud faded away and became a white bunk in some ship's whitewashed sick-bay. And the soft, soothing music faded out, and became the quietly coaxing voice of a human being. In other words, he slowly regained consciousness to find himself staring up into the face of Freddy Farmer, and into the face, also, of Colonel Welsh. And it was the Chief of Combined U. S. Intelligence who was speaking to him. "Easy does it, son," the colonel was saying. "Try and hang on this time, Dawson. You're all set, son. Everything is fine and dandy. Not a thing to worry about. Just try and relax and be calm, son." "That's right, Dave, old thing," Freddy Farmer echoed with a catch in his voice. "Gosh, but it's good to see your eyes really clear. You look fine, really. Feel a fair bit better, what?" Dawson blinked, started to mumble a question, and then gasped as complete memory came flooding back into his brain like water over a broken dam. "Hey, hey!" he got out. "What am I doing here? What are you doing here, Freddy? Sasebo's task force! Holy smokes, Freddy! Didn't you--?" Dawson would have said more, but Colonel Welsh gently put a hand over his mouth, and shook his head from side to side. "Now, now, son," he said with quiet firmness. "Try and realize what I'm telling you. _Everything_ is all right, see? That Jap task force is spread all over the ocean, and a good many of its ships sunk, too. Now, try hard, Dawson, and really get hold of yourself. You've been raving out the complete story of what happened to you and Farmer for two days now. I'm trying to tell you that everything has been taken care of. Everything is fine!" Dawson blinked again and tried hard to absorb the full meaning of the colonel's words. But there was one part that just didn't seem possible. "Two days, Colonel?" he echoed. "You mean that I've been like this, out cold for two days? Jeepers!"