Slim’s rapidly swinging long legs kept André at an almost breathless canter. Because their minds were silently busy, they did not hear the word, “Kamerad,” when it was first spoken.
But Slim’s reaction to something out of key stopped him short, .45 in hand.
André was pushed back before the second, louder, “Kamerad” gave him warning.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Slim and the Trumpet
SLIM leaned forward intently, staring at a thicket to one side. “Who’re you? Come out—hands up!” he shouted. “Get back, kid.”
A voice said, “It is not necessary. I vish to giff myself up—villingly.”
A young German airman stepped from behind the litter of broken cherry branches.
“Where’d you come from?” Slim demanded. “Keep those hands on your head.”
“I know who he is,” André cried. Then, to the stranger, “You’re the pilot who jumped from the Messerschmitt, aren’t you?”
The German nodded. “I vish to make no trouble. Please take my gun—a Luger only, in the holster.”