"How do I do what?" he wanted to know.
"Look so doggone full of pep," Dawson told him. "Here I feel like the last rose of summer after a steam roller has run over it, and you look like a million bucks, or more. How come? Are you taking some very secret vitamin pills that I don't know anything about, huh?"
"Certainly not!" young Farmer replied at once. "I haven't got that old, yet. But would you like to know the truth?"
"Well, if you insist on telling me, I suppose I've got to listen," Dawson grunted. "So shoot."
"Well, don't let my looks fool you," Farmer replied. "I may look fresh, but I definitely am not that way inside. Fact is, I'm not quite sure whether I am awake or asleep. And if you insist on knowing everything, I'd be jolly glad if we would sight land."
Dawson started slightly and shot him a keen look.
"Meaning?" he asked.
Young Farmer made a faint motion of his hand toward the milky sort of world through which the B-25 was flying. The sun had been up for a long time, now, but haze blurred the sun's rays and turned both sea and sky into a drifting milky-tinted mass that made instrument flying absolutely necessary.
"Meaning that I'm wondering if my navigation has gone haywire," Freddy said. "We should have made landfall half an hour ago, Dave. But there is nothing but blasted water down there. How's our fuel?"
"Okay, we've got plenty in the tanks," Dawson said. "If your navigation is all cockeyed, then I'll eat this ship. Of course, you are a funny sort of gink in lots of ways, my little man. But when it comes to navigating, I'll take you every time. So relax, pal. What's a half hour on an ocean hop? We probably bumped into a head wind, that's all."