"Quite probable," was the instant reply. "He could land his stolen plane any number of places up there, and not be seen, and make his way to your field on foot. Of course, it may not be that way at all, but we can't take any chances that it isn't. So get going, you two. Get your plane away from there at once, and good luck."
"Yes, sir, and thank you, sir," Dave murmured, and hung up the receiver.
He turned his head and looked at Freddy Farmer's wide eyes, and tried to smile, but it wasn't very much of an effort.
"Well, what do you know?" he breathed. "If it is that rat, then he's a pilot, and he's catching our smoke. Gives you a funny kind of feeling, doesn't it?"
"Quite!" Freddy Farmer grunted, and ran a tongue across his lips. "Makes a chap feel like the witness of a murder, and the murderer still at large, and hunting you down so's you'll never be able to tell."
"Yeah, something like that," Dawson nodded with a shaky little laugh. "But I wonder, though. I mean, we've been here quite a spell, and we haven't bothered looking behind us. If he's here, and has his gun, he's certainly had a lot of chances to let us both have it in the back. I wonder why not?"
"Well, stop wondering!" Freddy Farmer muttered, and got to his feet. "Let's do as the vice-admiral orders, and get away from this place."
"But fast!" Dave echoed with a grim nod. "Suddenly I've had all I want of California for a spell, anyway!"