bombing planes.

"Nice, very nice!" Dawson breathed happily, as he ran his eyes over the
sleek, yet powerfully built aircraft. "I was worrying a little about
what they were going to give us to fly. But I'm not worrying any more.
This baby is all that I'd ask for."

"Quite; me, too!" Freddy Farmer echoed. "It's got the range, and the
power."

"Also, it has the what it takes, in case we bump into Zeros and such,"
Dave reminded him. "Gee, I wonder if they're going to let us try out the
ships before they send us off on the hunt job?"

"Naturally," Freddy Farmer replied, as though he considered such a
question quite unnecessary. "After all, you know, even aircraft of the
same type are different in lots of little things."

"Yes, I know," Dawson grunted. "But--"

And that's as far as he got. It was almost as though his question about
test flying the Douglas Dauntless had been overheard, because at that
moment a junior officer came up with the announcement that most of the
aircraft were about to be taken up onto the flight deck so that they
could be test flown before darkness set down for the night.

And just twenty-five minutes later by Dave's watch he was seated in the
pilot's pit of the Dauntless buckling his safety harness, and making the
one hundred and one last minute preparations for flight. Seated in the
pit in back of him was Freddy Farmer, making ready himself. The Carrier
Carson had turned slightly into the wind and was rushing through the
Southwest Pacific at full knots to give the pilots every take-off
advantage possible.

"Okay, Freddy?" Dave called back. "All set?"

"Been waiting for hours!" the English youth shot back at him "Right-o!
Any time you get the signal."

Dave grunted and fixed his eyes on the flight bridge. The officer there
suddenly turned and pointed his flag at Dave. Dawson gunned his engine
slightly, and with the aid of a crew man on each wing he wheeled the
Dauntless forward and into take-off position. The flight officer raised
the flag, looked at Dave, and then brought the flag down fast. Dawson's
hand on the throttle shoved it forward. The Wright Cyclone in the nose
roared up in its song of power and the Dauntless moved forward down the
deck. It picked up speed with every rev of its three-bladed steel prop,
and Dave had it clear of the deck in no time at all. He went cutting up
and off to the left to make room for the next plane taking off.

"Well, pal, how's it suit you?" he calle