himself and stood up. He began humming a snatch of song,
stopped abruptly and answered Allison.

"Too quiet around here for me." Without any further explanation he
strolled out.

"That nut can't get action enough running the notch. He's on his way
over to a bombing squadron. He'll talk the O.C. into letting him go on a
bombing raid as a gunner." Allison got to his feet. "Me, I'm going to
bed."

"Reckon I will, too," Stan answered.

CHAPTER II

CLOUD TAG

Stan entered the mess room the next morning and stood looking around.
There was the same air of indifference, with that undercurrent of
tension. A dozen men were eating breakfast at the tables in the far end.
They were all talking and joking, but at any moment they might be called
to face the grim specter of death high in the clouds. Stan spotted
Allison sitting by himself at a small table near a window. He looked
about for Tommy but the lanky flier wasn't in the room. Probably
sleeping in after an all-night party aboard a bomber, thought Stan.

He crossed the room and as he approached Allison he saw that the Flight
Lieutenant's breakfast lay untouched before him. His coffee looked cold
and stale. But it was the grimness of his face that jolted Stan. Allison
looked up and there were savage points of light in his eyes. His mouth
twisted into a sardonic grin.

"Sit down, Stan," he said, using Stan's first name, something he hadn't
done before.

"What's up?" Stan demanded quickly as he slid into a chair.

"We're on day shift," Allison said. "Sunshine all the way."

"Where's Tommy?" Stan drove at the thought that had leaped into his
mind.

Allison looked at him and his lips pulled into a thin line. "The kid
picked up a package last night. A Flak-88 laid a shell right up against
the Bristol and cracked her open."

Stan said nothing for a minute. He knew that the words of the Flight
Lieutenant were likely the last he would say about Tommy Lane's last
ride. Then something like red fire surged up inside him.

"We'll keep him in mind," he said grimly.

"I'll see that the score keeps even," Allison said and savage lights
flickered hot in his eyes.

The mess corporal appeared with a private at his heels. "We have some
very fine waffles," he said.

"Bring me black coffee," Stan growled.

"And waffles?"

"Sure, sure."

The corporal turned away. It worried him that his fliers were so
temperamental they didn't eat enough of his food.

Allison shov