we've been needin'. Likely the boys
will know the way home."

"Certainly they will," Allison said. "And they'll know a Fiat BR 20,
also. This crate looks like a bomber."

"We better duck and go downstairs for a bit of hedge-hopping," Stan
advised. The Airacobras had spotted the lone bomber and were peeling off
like hounds scenting a buck.

O'Malley did not need any suggestions as to what to do. He nosed the
Fiat over and sent her down the chute in a screaming dive that
threatened to pull the wings off her. Stan glanced at his chute harness
to make sure everything was in order. He figured O'Malley would fold up
the Fiat like an old accordion when he started to pull her out of the
dive.

The Airacobras rapidly overtook the bomber, even though she was
power-diving far beyond her limit of stability. Stan saw one of the boys
flash in on their tail.

"Kite her!" he bellowed. "Stinger on your tail!"

O'Malley and Allison both hauled back and the Fiat wobbled and staggered
as she started to lift. Stan could hear her joints giving way, then she
bounced. Lead whistled below them, while the Airacobra roared down the
trail of its own bullets.

"Close," Allison muttered.

Stan squinted up and back. Two more fighters were lining up. It seemed
plain that they were surprised at the antics of the Fiat. They had never
seen one do stunts like that before. The two came raking in, blasting
from longer range. Stan felt the lead rip through the Fiat's wings and
body. One bullet plunked through close to his head, ripping a big hole,
another exploded back in the tail compartment and half of the peninsula
could be seen through the hole.

"Sure, an' they need shootin' practice!" O'Malley bellowed as he slipped
off on one wing, did a stall, and laid over for another dive. They were
now close to the treetops. Another Airacobra dived in and when it zoomed
away, they were minus one wing tip and their port engine was stuttering.
But they were down among the treetops and O'Malley was hedge-hopping
like a wild man. They missed an ancient castle set on a cliff. How
O'Malley managed it he himself did not know. One wing lifted and the
turrets of the old castle slipped under. Down they went into a little
valley, fanning the treetops. One motor was dead and the other was not
putting out much power.

Suddenly they realized that they were being covered by flak fired from a
field ahead of them. The barrage was fierce and concentrated. It sent
the