“Just a second, please, Lieutenant! C. O. tells me you got me out of a jam, this morning.”
Adams narrowed dark eyes on the blue ones of the Texan. He nodded, standing fully a head shorter than Tex.
“Well, didn’t I, Lieutenant?” he snapped. “Sorry I couldn’t fly both ships—might have kept you out of another!”
“I’m not saying you didn’t get me out of a sky jam, Adams,” Tex replied in a quiet tone. “But I am saying this—you didn’t know you were getting me out of one!”
The other pilot stiffened. His eyes narrowed on Tex Langdon’s blue ones.
“Come again!” he snapped. “Make that more clear!”
Tex nodded. “The C. O. asked me to verify your shoot-down, Adams. I did. But get this straight. You saw me skyscrapping with a Boche. You had ceiling, and a chance to drop in. You did and you got my Boche! You didn’t know I was running low in gas, or that I’d been hit twice by the enemy’s lead. And if you had known it wouldn’t have made any difference. You got the German ship for your record! And you winged straight for the Squadron, not giving a damn about me!”
Lieutenant Adams smiled grimly. “Think so, Langdon?” he asked quietly.
“I know so!” Tex snapped back. “I mussed up your pet ship in a take-off, and I didn’t get on my knees when you howled about it. You’re sore. You knew I couldn’t find the Squadron in the fog and you left me to go where you’ve said I came from!”