ly "explored" every
square inch of the milky air all about the B-25 but he didn't sight any
planes. Then Freddy returned with Colonel Welsh, and Dawson reported
what they had seen.

"They seem to be all around our course, sir," Dawson added. "Do you want
us to plow right on through, or continue to detour around this area and
come into Casablanca from the north? We've the fuel left to do it, if
that's what you want."

The colonel didn't reply at once. It was very plain from the expression
on his thin face that the news of sighting Nazi aircraft disturbed him
greatly.

"It can't be a convoy they're after," he finally said, "because there
isn't one this far south. And they can't be looking for any plane, such
as this one, because--"

The Chief of U. S. Intelligence paused a second, shook his head, and
ordered, "Get on course for Casablanca, Dawson, and plow right on
through! With our radio gone, we're helpless to find out what's what--if
anybody happens to know. The sooner we get to Casablanca, the better. So
bang on through, but avoid action if it's possible."

"Very good, sir," Dawson replied, and pulled the B-25 back onto her
original course. "By the way, sir, how's the pilot?"

"Getting better by the minute," the colonel replied. "Lost a lot of
blood, but we'll take care of that as soon as we get to Casablanca. Push
on through, and I'll order the crew to remain at battle stations. This
is the darnedest mess I ever bumped into!"

"If I've ever met up with anything more tantalizing, then I sure don't
remember it," Dawson remarked by way of agreement. "Okay, sir!
Casablanca it is, and on the run!"

Colonel Welsh murmured something that Dawson didn't catch and, giving
the Yank air ace a pat on the shoulder, he swung about and returned to
his battle station aft. For the next twenty-two minutes Dawson and
Farmer didn't speak as the twin-engined North American B-25 prop-clawed
its way forward through the milky-hued heavens. Neither of them spoke
because anything they might have said would only have served to increase
their fears. Both feared they were lost, and not even headed toward
Casablanca. They feared that at any second a whole flock of those
mysterious Junkers might suddenly appear in the air before them and
open up with all guns. They feared that once more their plans were about
to be knocked into a cocked hat.

"Jeeper, jeepers!" Dawson finally muttered. "I couldn't have a worse
case of jim-jams than I've