's more, its prop was idling over! And
if that wasn't enough to make Dawson's heart sing with wild happiness,
there was not a single Jap anywhere near it. Not even a member of the
deck crew.

"Hot dog, hot dog!" Dawson whispered inwardly. "Almost as though we'd
requested these slant-eyed rats to set the stage for us, and they had
done it. An MK-11, no less. Boy, oh boy! Do Freddy and I know that Jap
crate, and how! Lady Luck, you're my dream girl for life, and I don't
mean perhaps!"[B]

Hardly daring to risk it, Dawson shot a quick glance at Freddy Farmer
just the same. And that one quick look was enough to tell him that
Freddy had spotted the MK-11, and was simply waiting for him to make the
break. In fact, Dawson was positive that he had seen his English-born
pal give a faint nod of his head in a signal as their eyes met.

"You will walk toward the flight bridge, please!" the big Jap snapped
and pointed. "The Honorable Admiral is waiting."

Dawson nodded, shrugged, and turned forward to start walking a little
faster. But he took only six or seven steps; then he suddenly half
whirled, ducked down fast, and went under the wing of a parked plane. As
he came out on the other side of the wing he shot a quick glance back
over his shoulder and felt like yelling with joy. Good old Freddy Farmer
was so close behind that the English youth was practically running up
his back.

But even as he snapped a glance back to make e that Freddy was right
there with him, Dawson was in high gear again. Like a broken field
runner going absolutely haywire he dodged this way and that, and ducked
under wings, or around parked planes. Every split second of the time he
expected to hear the big Jap let out a scream of rage, but if there was
a scream he didn't hear it. Nor, praise be to God, did any other Japs
pop up in his path.

As a matter of fact nothing popped up to stop either of the youthful air
aces as they zigzagged through the parked planes at top speed, and then
reached the MK-11 and virtually hurled themselves into the pits. No
sooner was Dawson in the plane than he kicked off the wheel brakes, and
hand heeled home the throttle. The one thousand horsepower engine in the
nose roared out its song of mighty power, and the two-seater fairly
leaped forward along the narrow lane on the deck that permitted room for
taking-off. With every revolution of the prop the plane picked up more
and more speed, so that in no time at all the parked