Go on; keep it."

The non-com blinked stupidly for a moment; then his flat, freckled face
cracked in a broad grin.

"I get it, Skipper," he said with a chuckle. "I won't spend _this_ in no
hospital. I can drive this baby with my eyes closed."

"And I think you did!" Dave laughed at him. "And good luck."

"And good hunting for both of you, sir!" the driver called out as Dave
and Freddy went up Headquarters front steps.

Just inside the big front doors, they were buttonholed by an officer
seated at a desk who wanted to know their business there. They couldn't
tell him that, but they gave the officer their names, and that was good
enough. In fact, it seemed to please him, for he let out a long sigh.

"Well, thank Heaven, you're the last of the lot!" he breathed. "I've
been seeing nothing but Army and Navy pilots--even in my dreams. Report
to Room Twelve Fifty for further orders. Good luck."

Dave asked where he'd find Room Twelve Fifty, received the information,
and started off with Freddy.

"This is getting to make me feel not so good," he grunted, as he stabbed
an elevator button and waited for the car to come down.

"What do you mean?" the English youth asked quickly. "Have you heard
something I haven't?"

"With your big ears?" Dave shot at him. "Such a question! No. I mean the
parting crack everybody gives us. Good luck, good hunting, and so forth.
It makes me nervous when everybody keeps wishing me good luck. Makes me
feel they really do know something bad is going to pop, and they're
saying to themselves, 'And he seems such a nice guy, too!"

"If they _know_ you they're not saying that!" Freddy cracked back fast.
"But I get the idea of what you mean. Frankly, I'm getting to hate those
two words, good luck. Half the time I fancy they're not really meant."

"Boy, are you going sour in your middle age!" Dave chuckled. "Cheer up,
pal, and--and _Good luck!_"

Freddy glared, and he might have started things right then and there but
for the fact that the elevator came down at that moment and the sliding
doors parted open. A couple of minutes later they were pushing through
the door of Room Twelve Fifty. It wasn't a very big room, but it seemed
jammed to the ceiling with Army, Navy, and Marine Corps pilots. Both
Dave and Freddy spotted several pilots whom they knew. Then, suddenly,
both came to a full stop and stared pop-eyed at the far end of the room.
There was a desk there manned by a couple of high ranking