"My superior?" he bellowed. "What do you mean?"
"You know as well as I do!" the English youth shouted back at him. "Your superior! General von Peiplow, of course. And, you great big over stuffed ox, you'd better take us to him at once. He may tell Hitler on you, and then where'll you be?"
The Nazi choked, sputtered, and tried furiously to get words out of his mouth. When they did come, they came like flood waters pouring over a broken dam.
"You insolent swine!" he raged. "You English dog. I'll teach you to hold your tongue!"
"Freddy, look out!" Dave screamed.
It was too late. The Nazi hit Freddy on the side of the head and sent him spinning across the ground. White fire exploded in Dave's brain and blew common sense to the four winds. He dived forward and swung his fist for the German's jaw with every bit of his strength behind the blow. He felt his hand connect, and it felt like crashing his fist against the side of a brick building. And then the whole world exploded in shattering sounds about his ears. He heard the bellow that came from the Nazi's lips, and then he had the flashing impression that an express train had hit him in the face and not even stopped. After that there weren't any more impressions. That is none, save one. The impression that he was sailing away into eternity on a great big black cloud.
[CHAPTER THIRTEEN]
Satan's Brother
A distant throbbing beat bored its way into Dave's head and jacked him back to consciousness. He opened his eyes and stared blankly up at ceiling beams. A musty smell was in his nose. A musty smell mingled with the aroma of horses long since departed. As he stared blankly at the ceiling beams a small part of his brain began functioning. It told him that he was stretched out on some straw. In a deserted stable probably. And when he started to push up to a sitting position stabbing pain in his head and neck told him to take things easy for a little longer.
"Does it hurt much, Dave? I'm awfully sorry. I didn't mean it to work quite that way."