A moment later Dawson stopped the car full in the beam of the searchlight, and rested his hand on his gun on the seat beside him and watched the uniformed figure carrying the red-shaded flashlight walk around to his side of the car. "Show me your--!" the figure said harshly, and then stopped with a grunt. "Oh, you two, eh? Back again? Very well, proceed. But keep your speed to thirty miles or the others will open fire on you. The second turning on the right has been left unblocked. _Gott!_ So many cars tonight! It is like a parade. It must be nice to be of the Gestapo. You will probably be given all the schnapps you can drink. All right. Go ahead. Pass to the left of the light!" For a split second Dawson was tempted to play his Gestapo part to the hilt and snarl a few words at the uniformed figure backing away from the car. On second thought, though, he instantly decided to let things stand as they were. The unpopularity of the Gestapo with this particular soldier was none of his affair. He would be a fool to get tough about it. The one with the sub-machine gun might decide to get even tougher. And so, sweating with relief, Dawson meshed gears and tooled the little Army car around to the left of the searchlight, that winked out as he went by, and got back into the middle of the night-darkened road again. It was then that both Freddy and he let the clamped air from their lungs. "Jeepers!" Dawson gasped. "I know I've got gray hair now. Praise be that that dope simply remembered two Gestapo rats in an Army car, but _not_ what they looked like." "Amen!" Freddy Farmer whispered. "And may Satan bless the blighter for telling us about the second turn off on the right. Gosh, Dave! Do you really think that we'll be lucky enough to--?" "Don't say it!" Dawson said hoarsely. "It might break the spell, or something. Just pray, Freddy, that's all. Pray as you never prayed before. I know we haven't a hope, but--" "There's the first turn off, Dave!" young Farmer stopped him. "Slow up a little so we won't miss ... Dave! Look! There ahead to the right. There's the spot. You can see the tops of the hills. There's a glow of light, that's why. Dave! Do you hear something? Like the rumbling of thunder?" But Dawson didn't reply at once. He couldn't possibly have replied at that moment, even had it cost him his life not to do so. Every nerve in his entire system was twanging like a snapped violin string. His heart was striving to hammer its way out through his ribs, and the blood surging through his veins was like ice water one instant, and liquid fire the next. Yes, he could see the tops of the ring of hills, and the faint glow of orange-yellow light behind them that made them stand out against the night sky. And above the sound of his own engine he could hear that other rumbling sound that seemed like thunder to Freddy Farmer.