When he slid in close to a flat rock he found her surrounded by a score of natives. She was embracing them and calling them pet names as if they were her brothers and sisters. At last, grabbing up a battered overnight bag and Jack’s violin, she called out a native word that Ted thought must mean “good-by,” then made a flying leap for his left wing, which very nearly touched the rock. From the rock came a roar of farewells. Then two bronze giants leaped into the water to push the plane away. Ted set his motor roaring, slowed it to a crawl, then sent his fighter gliding out onto the moonlit sea. A moment later, like wild birds separated for a time, two planes—one a fighter, the other a freak—came close to one another, then streaked away toward the western night skies. Ted was in the lead. From time to time Jack banked this way and that, testing the jet plane. He went into a short spiral, then righted the plane to climb back into position. “Boy!” he exclaimed. “This is the smoothest flying kite I ever hope to see!” He wanted to tilt her nose and aim at the stars, to try out the plane in the stratosphere, but he could not be sure of the oxygen, and besides, he did not wish to lose contact with Ted. Ted had the chart showing the course the task force was taking. It would be easy to become lost on the vast Pacific, to run out of gas and fall into the sea. What a climax to an exciting adventure that would be! The sky had cleared. The moon shone in all its glory. “No trouble finding the task force on such a night,” he said to Stew. “None at all,” Stew agreed. They zoomed along until Jack’s dial indicated that they had passed the halfway mark in their journey. Should overtake the _Black Bee_ in another hour at the most, he thought. Meanwhile in the plane ahead a transformation was taking place. The battered overnight bag that Mary had taken aboard contained all the small civilian articles she had possessed before leaving Corregidor—also her nurse’s uniform. While Ted watched his instruments, consulted his chart, and thought of many things, her fingers had been busy. First, to be sure, she had performed quite an unfeminine duty—she had studied the swinging machine gun before her, making sure that it was properly loaded and that, if necessity demanded, she could do her full duty by it. Then she had turned to lighter tasks. A bottle of dye-remover, which had been furnished her, came first. This made her white again. After this came face cream, a manicure set, and cosmetics. When this was done, by worming and wriggling like a snake coming out of its skin, she succeeded in completing her transformation from a South Sea native to an Army Nurse. That the transformation was quite complete was proven by the “For Pete’s sake!” that exploded from Ted’s lips when at last, having solved all the problems of the universe, he turned to see if she were really there. “Smile!” he commanded. She smiled.