ew York City.
Nevertheless, there they were. Another bit of the mysterious Sahara's
phenomena for man to study and wonder about. A desert oasis completely
surrounded by hills! Yet there it was for mortal eyes to view.

However, the strange freak of Nature's handiwork held no interest
whatsoever for Dave Dawson or Freddy Farmer. What interested them
completely were the man-made things on that strip of desert valley. The
fifteen Junkers Ju-88's, the six Messerschmitt 109's and the single
two-seater Messerschmitt 110, that were pulled way back under perfect
camouflage covering on either side of the desert strip--the planes, and
the groups of shadowy figures that were walking about among them.

For fifteen minutes the two youths had hugged the ground behind the
scrub bush and peered out at the weird yet deadly-looking scene in
silence. For one thing there was nothing to say. However, the main
reason for silence was that each was close to the point of complete
exhaustion and collapse. Not two, but three hours ago they had started
toward the spot where they now were. Those three hours had been the most
torturing and grueling of their entire lives. Three hours used to cover
a distance of but a little over a mile! Simple enough to think about,
but how far different the actual execution of that night-shrouded
journey. Cuts and bruises on their bodies were countless. Their uniforms
were in shreds and tatters, and there was an utter weariness within them
such as few men have ever experienced. A hundred times all that kept
them going over the rock-studded ground, with thorn-bush barriers every
other foot of the way, were their fighting hearts and savage
determination to win through in spite of all odds.

And they _had_ won through, but were now forced to stretch out on the
ground and fight another battle--the battle for new strength and new
energy that would carry them forward to the most terrific struggle of
all. Yes, carry them forward to the struggle--and the successful
completion of an almost impossible task.

"Freddy, I'm wondering," Dawson suddenly whispered, and touched the
English youth's prone body with his hand.

"Yes, Dave?" came back the equally faint whisper. "Wondering about
what?"

"If--" Dave began, and paused. "I mean, maybe we're all wet about this
business. There's not an engine out there ticking over, and it's darn
close to dawn. You'd think they'd be warming them up now, if they
expected to go out at a m