And nobody put forth any objections.
CHAPTER SEVEN
You Can't See Death
Like A black steel snake with a single yellow eye, the "Flying Scotsman" went roaring northward over the steel rails that led to Aberdeen. In their compartment, four cars back from the engine, Dave Dawson and Freddy Farmer tried to lose their thoughts in the newspapers and magazines they had bought before leaving London. But it was just about as easy to do that as it is for a man to shave with an electric razor in a thunder storm.
However, the two air aces stuck grimly to it for well onto two hours, until finally Freddy reached the end of his string. He flung the magazine across the compartment they shared alone, and heaved a long, loud sigh.
"This is without question the balmiest war ever!" he proclaimed with vocal emphasis.
Dawson looked up from his newspaper, nodded, and tossed it to one side.
"At any rate the screwiest one I ever fought in," he said. "So you haven't been reading either, huh?"
"On the contrary, yes," Freddy replied. "But the same blasted paragraph over and over again. I just can't seem to concentrate."