"Shut up and sit tight!" Dave snapped, and jammed the palm of his free hand against the already wide open throttle, as though in so doing he might get even more speed out of the thundering engine in the Devastator's nose. "He won't if we can possibly prevent it. We're gaining on him, and I think he knows it. Look! See the pilot turning around and looking back? And, Freddy, that bird in the rear pit is unlimbering his guns! Get set, but be sure they fire the first shots. We've got to make sure, Freddy, right up until there's no doubt about it at all." Even as Dave shouted the words, he slid his hand up the control stick and snapped off the safety guard over the little red button he pressed to fire his guns. The first tingling thrill and heart chilling excitement was gone now. He felt perfectly cool, and calm, and collected. No, it wasn't because he was any superman with nerves of steel that no power on earth could break. It was simply that he had flown straight into danger too many times to go all haywire and jittery. This, you might say, was old stuff to Freddy and him. They had been through it in France, and in England, and in Libya, and over the broad Atlantic, and out in the Far East. A thousand times they had gone hurtling into sky battle. And after that many times you get used to taking it in stride. And so with measured movements he prepared himself for battle, if battle was to come. And that battle was to come seemed just as certain as that night was to come. And soon.... Soon? Just about four split seconds later he knew definitely that engines were going to whine under strain of violent aerial combat maneuvers, and that machine guns were going to crackle and yammer all over that Pacific sky. He knew it because the plane ahead and still below his altitude suddenly veered sharply to the left, and pulled its nose up and around in a wing screaming power zoom. And almost at the same instant Freddy's shouting voice told Dave that he, too, knew the battle was about to begin. "The blighter knows he can't shake us off!" the English youth cried. "Realizes we have the altitude, and can come down for a cold meat shot, if we want to. And he knows we will if that ship turns out to be Jap. And it is a cinch it is. Right-o, Dave! As I recall, that chap's a pukka pilot. Name's Miller, isn't it?" "That's what we called him!" Dave replied as he tried in vain to remember the face of the Devastator's pilot. "And his gunner is named Kaufman, I think. Miller and Kaufman! I wonder how they spell their real German names. I--Here he comes. And shooting! That tears it, Freddy! He's opened fire. So it's for keep, now." "Get after him, Dave!" Freddy screamed. "Get in close and let me at the beggar. Bash me, will he? I fancy not again he won't!"