essly
mad. Dawson didn't have time to wonder about that, or to give it a
single thought. The only thought he held in his swirling brain was that
he had to get the Messerschmitt off and into clear air. If he didn't,
all was doomed. And the point was that getting the aircraft into the air
was but the beginning of things!

"Up, up with you! Come on! Get off, _get off_!"

Shouting the commands at the plane, he hauled back on the controls, held
his breath, and shut his eyes, as though that would help a little. An
eternity of suspense dragged by. At the speed he was traveling now,
there wasn't a hope in the world that Freddy or he would survive a crash
with that other German plane. It was now, or never. All, or nothing but
instant death. With the fate of the entire civilized world hanging in
the balance, was it life, or was it--

A mighty upward surge of the Messerschmitt caused Dawson's heart to
swell with joy. He opened his eyes and instinctively ducked because his
left wing and the nose of the Messerschmitt 109 seemed to be touching
one another. But not quite, thank God, and the 110 went prop-clawing up
close to the vertical. Prop-clawing upward as the withering fire of
enraged vultures below spewed up after it.

"Made it, made it!" Dawson choked out, and instantly kicked the
Messerschmitt over on wingtip and pulled it around in a screaming turn.
"Freddy, we--"

He cut short his words as sudden memory of Freddy Farmer's wild yell
came back to mind. It seemed as though he lived and died a hundred
deaths in the time it took to turn his head and glance back at the rear
cockpit. What he saw sent a flood of joy into his pounding heart. Freddy
Farmer was still alive and kicking. And very much so, too. He had his
rear guns swung around and down and was blazing away at the ground. One
of his bursts of bullets had already nailed one of the Junkers 88's, and
livid red flame was shooting upward from the giant aircraft.

"First blood for you, Freddy!" Dawson screamed into the thunder of his
twin Daimler-Benz engines. "First blood for you, and how! Let's go, kid!
They think they've got a date at Casablanca. The heck they have, I'll
say! Here, you, a kiss from Casablanca!"

As Dawson roared out the last, he dropped the nose of the Messerschmitt
like a rock and went piling down toward the row of parked planes. He saw
two Messerschmitt 109's taking off, but they were past his line of fire,
so he couldn't do anything about them. No