Cut it out, Dave! We're
both equally at fault for letting them slip in on us, and falling for
that fake pointing business. But, good grief! What else would anybody
have done in our shoes? Nothing. At least nothing, and have been human.
Man! If only they'd come in just a little closer. I'd give them
something they'd not forget, the dirty blighters!"

But Freddy was simply "shooting the breeze" to let off steam, too. The
Japs were sticking to their distance, and even if they suddenly should
come ripping in it was questionable whether Freddy would be able to stop
them from cutting the helpless Dauntless to pieces, to say nothing of
bullet riddling its two occupants.

However, the strange-looking seaplane did stay well clear, and a couple
of moments later Dave stall-landed the dead engined plane in the water.
As soon as the plane stopped mushing forward and began to settle slowly
by the nose, Dawson unsnapped his safety harness, twisted the little
valve knob that automatically inflated his "Mae West," and then gave
Freddy Farmer a hand in getting the collapsible rubber life raft over
the side. Into it they tossed the few things they could take with them
and then climbed in and shoved off from the sinking plane.

Neither of them spoke. Both were thinking the same thing, and didn't
wish to alarm the other by speaking of it. In short, both were thinking
of the strange-looking seaplane now circling about above them, and
waiting for it to come gun spitting down in its power dive of death. But
finally Dawson broke the silence as he stared up at the circling plane.

"All right, killers!" he got out hoarsely. "The stage is all set. Here
we are. Just a couple of clay pigeons named Joe. Come on down and do
your dirty work. We've got a few million pals who'll even it up for us
some day. So come on down, darn you! We can take it, see? You're darn
right we can!"

"Easy, Dave, old man!" Freddy soothed, and placed a hand on Dawson's
knee. "It isn't going to help any to rave at the beggars."

"Who says it isn't?" Dave rasped, and kept his gaze fixed on the
circling plane. "It makes me feel better, anyway. Oh, don't worry, kid.
I'm not blowing my top, or going off the beam. I just figure it's
curtains, and, by gosh, I've got a few things I want to get off my
chest. I hate those rotten--Well, for the love of Mike, maybe I am going
nuts, and seeing things! Do you see what I see, Freddy? Or am I just
looking at a sky mirage? _That doggon