"Hello-o-o there, Major!" he bellowed. "We're coming!"
As his call died away, he could tell by the movement of the beams of light far back along the path that whoever held the flashlights was coming on the run. He and Freddy walked toward the approaching lights, and after a couple of minutes one of them was playing over him at close quarters. Major Parker's dumbfounded comments were splitting the night air.
"Good grief, what happened to you two? I waited mess for you, but when you didn't show up I got worried for fear you'd got lost. Somebody said they saw you heading up this path, so we came after you. Good grief! What happened? Are you badly hurt?"
By "we," Major Parker meant himself and one of the field pilots, who was carrying the other flashlight. On impulse Dawson gave the man, whose name was Tracey, a searching look, but he saw only bewildered amazement and sympathy in the sun-and-wind bronzed face.
"We don't exactly know, sir," Dawson answered the major. "We were heading back to the base when suddenly the lights went out. Somebody jumped us from the sugar cane. When we woke up, we were as you see us, but nothing was missing."
"Nothing?" Major Parker asked sharply.
"Not a darn thing, sir!" Dawson replied truthfully. "I don't get it. And I don't like it, either. Thanks, though, for coming after us."
Major Parker dismissed the last with a wave of his hand, and opened his mouth as though to say something important. He seemed to change his mind as he shot a quick glance at Tracey, because he gave a little shrug and remarked, "Well, standing around here isn't helping anything. I'd better get you two back so you can clean up. We've got some spare uniforms, and it won't be hard to find your fit. Slugged, and not a thing missing, huh? Well, that's a new one on me. Okay, let's get back—if you two really aren't hurt badly?"
"Just a bump or two, sir," Dawson assured him. "Nothing to write home about, at all."
"Quite," Freddy Farmer murmured. "Received worse than this in a crash or two. We're quite all right, sir."