"Refuse to go—" Dave gasped as sudden alarm shot across his face. "Won't play a dirty trick on them? Hey! What goes on here? What do you mean, tell the truth?"
The English youth didn't answer at once. With deliberate movements he carefully smoothed the surface of the sand that covered the equipment he had buried. Then he nonchalantly brushed sand dust from his hands and glanced at Dave.
"I'm going to tell them who you are," he said firmly. "I just haven't the heart to let them think they've really captured somebody, when it's actually only you. No, I'm going to tell them who you are so they can kick you back out into the desert, the same way a fisherman throws back a fish that's too small. And I'm going to teach them that bit of American slang to say as they do it."
"What's that?" Dave asked as the corners of his mouth twitched.
"It's—" Freddy began, and hesitated. Then his face lighted up. "Oh yes, I remember now. Ten pennies for twelve. Yes, that's it."
Dave started to bellow with laughter, but clapped his hand over his mouth just in time. Sound carries like magic across the desert, and they were not yet ready to make their presence known to the enemy tank and armored car units. However, it was a couple of minutes before Dave could choke off his laughter enough to speak.
"Ten pennies for twelve!" he gasped out as tears streamed down his cheeks. "Boy, oh boy, is that one for the book. You mean, Freddy, a dime a dozen. But let it go. Anyway, you're one in a million, and that's no kidding. Well, all set?"
As Dave asked the question, it served as an automatic brake, a full stop, for kidding and joshing around. In a moment the serious business would begin—deadly serious business, upon the outcome of which might hang not only their own lives but the success or failure of Britain's war efforts in the Middle East. Freddy searched Dave's eyes for a couple of seconds, and then nodded.
"Right-o," he said quietly. "Let's get on with it. We've buried all our stuff, and we both certainly look as if we've been wandering around in this blasted desert for days. Yes, let's get on with it."
"Wait, just one more thing," Dave said as Freddy started to get up and move over the brow of the sand dune. "It just hit me, and it might help. You can't tell. Speak nothing but English. Make out that you don't understand German. That is, of course, if any of those birds speak English. But let's not let on we speak and understand German until we have to. They—Well, they might let something slip, you know."