“Well, really, old man, you know O’Malley and I can keep still and we can get orders mixed up badly.”
“See you tomorrow.” Stan hung up.
That night Stan slept soundly. He was still snoring away when the bugler outside his window blew first call. The moment his eyes opened he tossed aside the blankets and jumped out of bed. He wolfed his breakfast and was out on the field and headed for the hangar where the three Hawks were taking flying shape.
Allison and O’Malley came in before nine o’clock. Allison was flying the ship. He smiled thinly at Stan as he climbed out.
“I brought her up here. When you mentioned Heinkels, O’Malley was for hunting in the clouds a bit.”
“I hated to waste a good trip,” O’Malley complained.
“The boys at the factory sent the Hawks out almost ready to fly. We’ll be in London tonight,” Stan said.
O’Malley’s eyes were on the three Hawks which had been rolled out into the sunshine in front of the hangar.
“’Twill be swell flyin’ a ship that hasn’t been all daubed up and smeared with messy paint,” he said.
“We’ll fly them in without camouflage,” Stan agreed.