"The happiest day of my life!" he cried, and reached up a helping hand. "Climb down out of there, you two. Blessed if I don't want to hug and kiss you. Fancy that!"
"First tell us about the others, sir," Dave said as he climbed down onto the deck. "I mean, the other patrols that went out when we didn't return. Did they get back okay?"
"Fit as fiddles, and without a speck of information!" the group captain cried, "But we all know why, now. By George! Is it good to see you two! I suppose you know you helped a little, eh?"
"Well," Dave said with a grin, "I hope we helped at least a little."
"Oh, it was a bit more than that," Group Captain Spencer said with a mocking shrug. "All you did was save half the British army in Libya from walking into a death trap. That, plus making it possible for us to give the Nazis a licking that will slow them up long before they reach Egypt. And when they do reach Egypt, we'll be able to hold them until General Wavell's ready to run them all the way back where they came from. Yes, you two helped some, I guess. And as soon as you're rested up I want the whole story in detail. Don't leave out a thing. I insist.... By George! Farmer, what's the matter?"
Freddy had squatted down on the deck and was tearing off his boots as though his feet were on fire.
"Must get rid of them at once!" he panted, and struggled with his boots. "Die if it touches me any longer. Most terrible stuff in the world. Deadly poison. Absolutely fatal."
Dave's heart looped over as he remembered a squashed scorpion on a Libyan desert rock.
"Freddy, what is it?" he cried, bending over. "What's in your shoes? That stuff you talked about life and death in the plane? Freddy, speak to me! What's in your shoes?"
The English youth got to his feet, picked up his two shoes and hurled them far out over the side of the carrier. When they had hit the water and sunk from sight, he shuddered and heaved a long grateful sigh.