"Could be, and maybe!" Dave snapped. "But I've heard those sky choppers often enough to recognize them every time. And do you think an eagle or something flew into that window, sir?" "No, of course not," the Intelligence chief grunted. "Sorry I sounded off. You're right, of course. But it doesn't make sense. Who the devil would want to take a crack at us?" Dave shrugged in the darkness, and for a moment or so as the plane roared heavenward he strained his eyes for a glimpse of some other shadow cutting about in the air. He saw nothing, however, and then turned his head and spoke back over his shoulder. "Maybe not _us_, sir," he said, "but I guess the Axis would be pretty tickled to see _you_ put out of circulation. If you want my guess, some rat saw you take off with us. Maybe he used a hidden radio and sent word ahead. This mountainous country is a swell place to hide a plane, you know, sir." "And those _were_ exhaust plumes you saw!" Freddy Farmer cried. "The lad was probably climbing up to get around in back when you saw his exhaust plumes. Well, let the beggar come again. We'll--Good grief! This plane isn't armed!" "No," Colonel Welsh said in a slightly hollow voice. "Guess they never figured it was necessary to arm these utility planes used to transport personnel about the country." "If only the chaps in high places would stop _figuring_ so much in this war!" Dave groaned. "Quite!" Freddy Farmer echoed the truth bitterly. "But bemoaning the lack of common sense in the average High Command won't help us now. If the blighter comes back for another fling, Dave, you'll just have to--" "Don't bother telling me!" Dave shouted. "Here he comes--from the left and up! Hang onto your seats!" The last had hardly left Dave's lips before he was hauling the Lockheed straight up on its tail. Before the plane reached stalling speed, however, he kicked it over on wing and then sent it dropping nose first toward the black carpet below that was the ground. No sooner had he kicked the plane over on wing than he switched off both engines, and shoved the compensator throttle open wide, so that no carbon sparks or exhaust light of any kind would etch their path downward through the night. Meanwhile the mysterious attacker had opened fire again, but Dave's quick action at the controls caused the unknown killer to miss by a wide margin. The flickering ribbon of tracers didn't even come close. And at the end of another three or four seconds the Lockheed was well on its way earthward and out of sight. "See that bird as he banged on by us?" Dave cried, when he was able to talk again. "It looked to me like a small Beechcraft. Or maybe it was a Waco. But he's carrying two guns--and he wants us mighty badly. Heck, if there were only guns aboard this crate. I had a beautiful broadside bead on him."