"Heels?" the English youth gasped. "Why? You're not going to bury him, are you? I think...."
"Don't!" Dave snapped. "You'll over-tax that pea inside your head you call a brain. Of course I'm not going to bury him. But I'm certainly not going to leave him here, either. I'm going to fly him back to the Squadron. I don't know where that One-Ten planned to toss him out, but I think they tossed him out too soon. We'll take him back to the Squadron and have the O.C. get in touch with British Intelligence. The note's addressed to them, so I guess they'll probably know what it's all about. But I sure hope he's English, and not Nazi like he looks."
"Why?" Freddy demanded. "Why do you hope he's English?"
Dave flung him a scornful look.
"That should be easy to guess," he said. "I'm particular who I ride around in my airplane. And Nazis aren't on my list. Now, catch hold of his feet and help me carry him back to the plane. I'll put him across the cockpit and hang onto him with one hand."
"That field isn't so good for Spitfire take-off," Freddy commented dubiously.
"So what?" Dave growled. "So if I crack up, you can fly both of us back. Now, stop worrying, and lend me a hand, pal."
[CHAPTER FOUR]
Hero's Homecoming
Dave made the take-off without any trouble, and less than twenty minutes after his wheels had cleared the ground he was throttling the Rolls-Royce engine and sliding gently down toward Eighty-Four's field. Freddy had landed ahead of him and had mechanics and the "fire wagon" ready to dash into action in case Dave had trouble sitting down.