into this pile of rocks to drag you out of your crate?" Stan's eyes
were cold and hard.

The Jerry coughed and smiled weakly. "I am indebted to you," he said
slowly.

"If I don't get you to a doctor, you'll be as bad off as if you were
still in that bonfire," Stan snapped. "Talk and I'll see what I can do.
And hand me that Luger." He reached down and jerked the officer's gun
from him. The Nazi had been too weak to make fast use of it.

"I suppose you are right." The officer coughed again and his hand
slipped to his breast where his tunic was fast becoming soaked with
blood.

"I might as well talk." Fear was showing in his eyes.

"Good. Who tipped you off?"

"A man who has quite an inside position with you. His name is--" The
Jerry paused and coughed.

"Yes?" Stan bent and steadied him. He was afraid the Nazi would pass out
before he spoke again.

"Arch Garret," the Nazi said, then went limp in Stan's arms.

Stan stared down in the gray face for a moment. His lips were drawn into
a tight line and his eyes were blazing. Then he remembered his promise
to the unconscious Nazi. Picking the man up he carried him to the stone
fence which separated the field from the road.

An old car had halted and a man and a woman sat staring at the smoking
Nazi plane and the trim Spitfire. When Stan appeared they started to get
the old car into action.

"Wait!" Stan shouted.

The man recognized Stan's uniform and a broad smile came to his lips. He
halted the car and waited while Stan carried the wounded man to the
roadside.

"Can you get him to a doctor at once?" he asked.

"Verra easy," the man said.

"Take him to a doctor, then notify your authorities that you have a
Nazi prisoner. You should get a handsome reward for such a prize. He is
a pilot and pilots are valuable."

The man and the woman began to talk at the same time. Stan loaded the
wounded officer into the back seat and waved to the pair. Turning, he
headed for his Spitfire.

Stan plugged the hole in his gas tank and warmed the Spitfire a bit,
then rolled her to the far end of the field. There was some question as
to whether he could make off the rough field, but he was in a terrible
hurry and did not care to wait for help.

With a last careful survey of the grass runway he was off. The Spitfire
rocked and dipped her wings and swayed drunkenly, but she lifted and
cleared the stone fence. Now that he was in the air Stan had to decide
what he should do abo