With a curt nod the pilot and his passenger turned and climbed back into the plane. Colonel Welsh followed at their heels, but for an instant Dave and Freddy hung back. They looked at each other and frowned slightly. "Queer couple of blokes, aren't they?" the English youth murmured. "Can't say I like their looks much." "I've seen better," Dave replied with a nod. "But so long as they get us out of here, I don't care what they look like. But--is there something on your mind?" "Not a thing," Freddy replied. Then, with a puzzled scowl: "Just sort of feel funny, though. One of your confounded hunches, I guess. Oh well! No doubt it's your American climate. I'm sure I should have stayed in England." "Hop in, or do you two kids want to stay and play boy scout?" The Stinson's passenger stood framed in the cabin doorway. His blue green eyes stabbed down at Dave and Freddy, and the mop of coarse red hair on his head actually did look like fire in the glow of the dawn sun. Dave stared at him, felt that elusive thought tug at his brain for the last time, and then climbed into the plane with Freddy right behind. The pilot at the controls glanced back just long enough to see that everybody was aboard, and then he goosed the engine and taxied around on one wheel, and went trundling back toward the far end of the landing strip. His friend, the redhead, sat in the co-pilot's seat, but he was twisted around so that he faced Dave, Freddy, and the Colonel, who were sitting in the three passenger seats. A grin parted his lips, but he seemed to be grinning over their heads rather than at them. For a brief instant a clammy chill rippled through Dave. He shook it off, angrily told himself that he was letting his imagination run wild, and concentrated on watching the pilot take the plane off. It was a beautiful bit of flying, and Dave nodded his head in silent approval and admiration as the pilot held the Stinson on the ground until he had plenty of forward speed, then gently eased it off and up as nice as could be. Holding the nose up, the pilot circled the Stinson upwards until the mountain peaks were almost on a level with the wings. Flattening off the climb, he banked around for the last time and went roaring between two mountain peaks to the north. For a couple of minutes Dave was too thrilled by the wild, heart stopping beauty of the mountain scenery below to pay much attention to the course of the plane. Eventually, though, when the sun continued to stay on the right wing side, he stopped gaping at the terrain below, and glanced sharply ahead. The redhead was still grinning, very comfortably relaxed in his seat. And the pilot was still holding the nose pointed north as though he planned to keep going in that direction for quite some time to come. Dave held his peace for a moment or so longer. Then curiosity and an eerie tingling sensation at the back of his neck forced the words off his lips.