"I think you did," the English youth echoed. Then with a chuckle he added, "But I suppose I'll never hear the end of it from now on!"
"Now ain't that gratitude for you?" Dawson groaned, and shook his head sadly. "So help me, why I keep getting that food-craving hide of yours out of tight spots, I'll never understand. I must be nuts, I guess!"
"And for once," Freddy Farmer laughed, "I won't argue with you!"
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lurking Wings
For the hundredth time Dawson dug knuckles into his tired eyes, stifled the yawn that struggled to get up out of his throat, and took a quick glance at Freddy Farmer seated in the co-pilot's seat. And for the hundredth time he wondered how the English-born air ace could go through so much and still look as fresh as a daisy.
"Boy, oh boy!" he finally blurted out. "How do you do it, anyway, Freddy?"
The English youth glanced his way with arched eyebrows.