of the fuselage, he called to Hans:

"We'll turn her up." He wiped sweat from his forehead. The air in the
hangar was hot, kept that way to make engine starting easy.

Hans and his men wound up the Mustang. Stan climbed into the cockpit and
got set. From where he sat he could see, through a plate he had removed
from the panel, the adjustment valve he had seated with waste. He could
reach it by bending over.

The Mustang's engine turned over and she sputtered once or twice but
refused to start. The wad of waste was no good. He had to seat the
valve. Looking out he shook his head to Hans. Then he noticed that
Domber was talking to an artillery captain over by the gate. He was
shaking his head and making violent gestures.

Stan watched him carefully. It might be that Domber was telling the gun
captain not to blast the P-51 if it made a run. In that case Domber had
plans even if Stan got the ship away. Domber came back to the P-51 and
Stan looked the other way as he bent forward and seated the valve.

The tough part was that if he hit the mixture just right in seating that
valve the engine would hit it off at once. Stan knew how those Allisons
worked. Given a hot room they might flip right over and go off with a
bang. He climbed out of the cockpit and made a few last checks on the
outside.

A water boy came up and the men crowded around for drinks. Stan watched
the water boy carefully. He was again thinking about the poison
business. The water was in a pail and the men were dipping it out in a
tin cup. That did not look dangerous and Stan was very thirsty. He
turned his back and climbed into the cockpit again. He was down inside,
working on a repaired cable. Close to his face was the hole where the
shell had ripped through and severed the cable.

Suddenly Stan heard someone whispering. It was the voice of Herr Domber.

"Get set, fool, and when the boy offers him a drink you are to shake
your head. In that way he will think he has escaped being poisoned. He
is just stalling now. I want this ship tuned up. If you fail, it is the
Russian front for you."

"Yes, sir. Heil Hitler," Swen's voice answered.

Stan grinned broadly. He finished with the cable. One thing was sure.
The poison story had been a gag to make him think he had outwitted
Domber. He climbed out of the cockpit and walked over to Hans.

"We'll hit her again," he said.

Turning back he noted that several of the mechanics had moved in close.
A quick gl