The English youth didn't answer at once. He sat swaying and groaning, and staring at Dave out of half closed eyes. Then suddenly he began to laugh softly. The laugh grew and grew until it was almost a scream. The pilot and the redhead had put down their whiskey glasses and were staring at him in wide-eyed amazement. "R.A.F., my hat!" Freddy suddenly shouted. "This isn't war. This is gangster business, like I've seen in your American movies. Well, I've had enough of it. I can't stand it, do you understand. _I can't stand it!_ These ropes are killing me. I feel as if I were all on fire!" Freddy stopped short, looked over at the unshaven pair and spoke again before Dave had time to open his mouth. "I say, a drink of water, please!" he gasped. "I must have a drink of water. I'm dying, really. I can't stand the pain. A drink of water, please!" The pair stared for a moment longer; then the redhead burst out with laughter. "The tough English, huh?" he jeered aloud. "Look at the brave R.A.F. pilot, I don't think! Well, what do you know? The English can't take it. I always said they couldn't. Mama! Mama! Sonny boy wants a drink of water. Here! Pour a slug of this whiskey down his throat and make a man of him. Okay, I'll do it!" The redhead laughed some more and splashed whiskey from the bottle into his glass. He pushed up from the table and came swaggering over to Freddy Farmer. "Here you are, sonny boy," he said, and leaned over to put the glass to the English youth's lips. "Be Papa's great big man. Have a drink. Go on, take some!" Freddy Farmer groaned just once more, then leaned forward as though he were going to drink. But he didn't drink. He became an exploding ball of chain lightning, instead. Almost before Dave Dawson's startled eyes could register what was taking place, Freddy Farmer whipped his right hand around from behind his back and plucked the redhead's automatic from its holster. In what was practically the same motion, the English youth stood up and clubbed the gun down on the redhead's ear. At the same time Freddy brought up his left clenched fist and landed solidly on the man's jaw. The man closed his eyes, and folded up like an old army cot to the floor. The English youth didn't so much as watch the redhead crumple. Instead he brought the automatic down into line with the pilot sitting stunned at the table on the other side of the room. "Don't even wink an eye!" Freddy barked, and slowly sat down again. "I can put a bullet in your rotten heart from here with my eyes closed. Keep your hands just as they are on the table. Don't move them an inch, you dirty blighter!" CHAPTER TWELVE _Westward To War_