--"

Or something? But what? That was the question! Freddy Farmer could fly
through the toughest weather made. He was that kind of pilot. It was
crazy to think that weather would hold up Freddy. But where was he? Why
wasn't he here?

These tantalizing questions pounded in Dawson's brain like the booming
of big guns. He clenched his teeth and gripped the controls of the
Lockheed Lightning so tightly that the knuckles of his hands showed
white through the skin. That this was perhaps the last flight he might
ever make didn't bother him much. What did was the fear that Freddy and
he might fail in the successful completion of this vitally important
mission. And that fear was doubled when he realized that the odds were
all against them. Yesterday when they had volunteered for the job Major
General Hawker had told them in no uncertain terms that their chances of
finding the secret Nazi bomber base were about one in a thousand, and
their chances of coming back alive were about one in a million.

Yes, the odds were all against them, but that didn't matter. They'd had
the odds against them before and had won out. So right after leaving
Major General Hawker's office they had selected two Lockheed Lightnings
on the field and flight tested them thoroughly. By then darkness had
settled, so they had gone to one of the field hutments and tumbled into
bed with their clothes on, so that there would be no waste of time in
case they had to make a night take-off in a hurry.

Good fortune was theirs, however. They each had twelve solid hours of
sleep before word came that Nazi bombers were sighted off the coast.
Five minutes later they were both in the air, but instead of flying out
to sea, they carried out a prearranged flight plan. Dawson had flown
northward to circle around to the east and then southward to a point
over the middle of the Atlas Mountains. And Farmer had flown south with
the idea of circling eastward, and then up north to rendezvous with
Dawson. One of them would be sure to cross the path of the Nazis winging
back to their secret base. The instant one of them spotted the Nazis he
would code call the other over his radio and give his position and
course. The other would head that way at once, join up, and together
they would trail the Nazis to their base, and then code call Casablanca
where a hastily assembled squadron of American bombers was waiting.

Yes, a very carefully thought out plan of action, except for one flaw