Young Farmer's words seemed to make Dawson's heart swell up and explode in his chest.
"What?" he gasped. "Haven't left yet? But it's well over the time limit, Freddy! According to schedule, the President's party should have arrived at Casablanca early this evening, and—"
"Maybe it did, but the bombers haven't taken off!" young Farmer interrupted. "While making my way here, I saw their hidden field from some high ground. That was about an hour ago. They had a few oil pot flares burning, and I could see the planes. All props were dead. They haven't left yet, Dave. My guess is that the President's party has been delayed a bit, and they know it! And, Dave! There are more than just Junkers there, too. At least half a dozen Messerschmitt single-seaters, not counting the ones we got, and a two-seater Messerschmitt 110."
"No kidding?" Dawson breathed, and swallowed hard. "Then that checks with the thought I had. I mean, those bombers have a fighter escort to protect their secret base in case a stray plane or two found it—like what happened to us. But I think the big idea of their being here is to sail out to give the bombers a better chance to get through when the big moment comes. They must be 'Number Two Suicide Squad' because they'd never get back here on the gas they carry!"
"Absolutely!" Freddy Farmer replied at once. "No doubt of it. When the bombers were sure of their target, they'd radio the Messerschmitts to come on the jump and lend a hand. Dave, old thing, we're not all washed up yet! Don't you understand?"
"And how! I understand!" the Yank air ace said grimly, and got up onto his feet. "Do you know the way to that secret field from here, Freddy?"
"Yes," the other replied. "But it's about two hours of blasted hard going. We've got to be very careful. I think the blighters have patrols out hunting for us. I heard a few Jerry voices while I was making my way here. By the way, that glow over there is your aircraft still burning. Never knew a plane to burn so long."
"So that's what it is, huh?" Dawson remarked absently. Then, reaching out, he gripped Freddy Farmer's hand. "Let's go, pal," he said quietly. "Don't ask me if I have any plans, because I haven't a one, yet. But let's get to that field and decide when we get there. One thing is in our favor, anyway. We're both still alive and kicking. If you ask me, that's plenty for a starter!"
"Quite!" Freddy Farmer echoed, tight-lipped. "We're both still alive, so we're jolly well not licked yet!"
"Check, and triple check!" Dawson grunted. "Let's go!"