Dave laughed and cocked an eye at Colonel Welsh. "See what I mean, sir?" he grunted. "Right on top of the ball all the time. He's good!" "Well, I don't think any of us have anything to worry about on that score," the Colonel said. "And I've a hunch, Farmer, that once your shipmates see you in the air they'll realize that how a chap speaks is pretty small potatoes, considering. Well, I guess that's all. You leave tonight for San Diego. There's a Navy plane out at Alexandria Field. You can take that. And there'll be a passenger on your trip west, if you don't mind." "Glad to have company," Dave said. "Who is he, sir?" "Me," Colonel Welsh said with a grin. "I've got some business out on the Coast. So I might as well hitch-hike on your plane. Oh! In case you're wondering, you'll be fitted with uniforms and gear before we leave. For this job you'll have the rank of lieutenants. That's below your R.A.F. Flight Lieutenant's rank. Our Navy Lieutenant is equal to your rank of Flying Officer. An R.A.F. Flight Lieutenant is equal to our Lieutenant Commander, or an Air Corps Captain. But I don't think it wise to put you aboard the Indian as Lieutenant Commanders. Fact is, too, the vacancies are for lieutenants. So I hope you don't mind, eh?" "Not a bit, sir," Dave replied instantly, and laughed. "As a matter of fact, just a few minutes ago you told us that we weren't even R.A.F. any more, so any rank you give us is bound to be okay. But, speaking for both of us, what rank we hold doesn't mean a thing. If we can pull this thing off, it's okay by us if we go aboard the Indian as a couple of seamen, third class. But--well, there are a couple of questions I'd like to ask. Or are you in a hurry, sir?" "No hurry except to nail that rat aboard the Indian before she gets into the Marshall Island attack," Colonel Welsh said bluntly. "No. For heaven's sake, go ahead and ask all the questions you want. I certainly don't want you to go into this thing not knowing everything you should, or at least everything I can possibly tell you. What's your first question?" "Something I hope won't happen, but might," Dave said with a frown. "Supposing Farmer and I catch onto something--get a line on this rat, or rats--but really need help. Is there anyway we can contact the two mechanics you're putting aboard to help us?" Colonel Welsh glanced at his three junior officers and smiled before he looked back at Dave. "A good question, Dawson," he said. "I was going to tell you about that as we flew west tonight, but now that you've brought up the point, I might just as well do it now." The chief of U. S. Intelligence paused long enough to pull open one of the countless drawers of the huge desk. When he took his hand out of the drawer, he held two pins. They were common ordinary looking pins save that the top was painted a bright orange. He gave a pin to each of the former R.A.F. aces.