ng; the trail wound upward
steeply, covered by a canopy of trees. Reaching the top of the ridge
they broke out into a forest. Arno led them to a spot where there was a
narrow flight strip. Still they saw no planes.

Crossing the strip they entered a grove of tall trees and there stood
three, trim ships. O'Malley yelped with joy. Stan looked at the craft
critically. They were Nardi FN 500's, obsolete in speed and fire power,
but trim and sturdy ships just the same. Arno smiled.

"We built this secret field so that we could slip in at night without
the black-shirted Fascisti knowing where we had gone. We met often to
plan the overthrow of Mussolini and his murderers."

"You landed here at night?" Allison asked in amazement.

"Certainly," Arno answered modestly.

"We could use you as a fighter pilot," Stan answered. "When you get
through blowing up bridges and trains, you'd better join us. We'll vouch
for you."

"We will do that. We like very much to fly," Tony said eagerly.

"You will find the guns on the ship are serviced. The engine is 1200
horsepower, you have two fixed guns firing through the prop and two guns
fixed in the wings. You can get three hundred and fifty miles per hour
out of those ships," Arno spoke proudly.

"Yet they are not as good as the Messerschmitts or the Focke-Wulf," Tony
added. "And I think you will have to fight your way home against the
Germans."

"Sure, an' we'll show them a fight," O'Malley said happily.

"You have gas to reach Malta, but not much for fighting. It is best that
you run fast for home," Arno advised.

"We'll do just that," Stan said, remembering the package inside his
shirt.

Tony and Arno helped them wheel the Nardis out on the flight strip. They
were surprised to find another ship tucked away under the trees.

"Father's ship," Arno said with a catch in his voice. "But he has not
been able to come for it."

"He'll come," Allison said, but he was not so sure the general was
alive. He knew the Germans would be ruthless in wiping out all
anti-Fascist leaders in the territory they controlled.

The boys climbed up and got into the beautifully streamlined cockpits.
They slipped into the Italian parachutes and got set. Arno and Tony
acted as ground crew and the engines were soon turning over smoothly.
Stan checked his dials and made himself familiar with gun controls and
equipment; he cracked the throttle and listened to the roaring surge of
power. Then he throttled