If Freddy Farmer heard the remark, he ignored it. He turned to Dawson and held up one hand with the fingers stiff and extended upward. Then he started counting them off with the forefinger of the other hand.
"One: Two F.B.I. chaps followed us all over New York," he said. "Two: Colonel Welsh told us that a list of names compiled by the War Department had been turned over to the F.B.I., and that it had the approval of the President, the Secret Service, the Army, Navy, and Air Forces. Three: The colonel refused to give us so much as a hint as to what's behind this flight of ours. Four: He told us to guard those sealed envelopes with our lives. Five: He said that one of his agents was in secret command of every point where we were to stop. Six: The route is the Air Transport route to North Africa. Seven: The colonel said that the sealed envelopes contained the most important secret of the war so far. And eight: He said that he would have another special mission for us when we met in Natal."
"And nine?" Dawson queried when young Farmer stopped talking and lapsed into brooding silence.
The English youth hesitated, chewed on his lower lip for a moment, and then leaned over toward Dave and whispered, "Nine, is that all these arrangements are being made because—because President Roosevelt and the Yank High Command are being flown to North Africa, and perhaps beyond, for a war conference with Prime Minister Churchill, Premier Joseph Stalin, and their High Command Staffs. And there you have what I think!"
Dawson whistled softly, sat up straight, and stared hard at his flying mate and dearest friend.
"And I think you are strictly nuts, Freddy!" he said. But scarcely had he spoken the words when he frowned and gave a little twist of his head. "Jeepers, I wonder!" he mumbled.
"Yes, no doubt I am quite nuts," Freddy agreed, and got up on his feet. "Personally, I can't think up a better guess. It's started my brain swimming, though. So what say we start on back, eh? Don't want to miss evening mess, you know."
"What a guy! What a guy!" Dawson groaned, and stood up. "Here in one breath he has perhaps figured out the biggest secret in the war so far, and in the next breath he's sounding off about that stomach of his. Did I mention a moment ago that I think you are nuts? If I didn't, then consider it said right now!"
"The difference between us, old thing!" Freddy Farmer explained with an airy wave of his hand as he started back along the path. "The food you eat helps your body. The food I eat helps my body and my brain. If you'd only eat more, maybe some of the nourishment would have a chance to get up that high! I say! I didn't half realize that it was this dark."
"Yeah," Dawson agreed as he stumbled over a root. "A good thing that talking box of yours ran out of words, or Major Parker would have to send out a searching party. I—Hey, Freddy! What's the matter?"