The man tried to go on talking, but the hand of death was close. He did mumble sounds, but they made no sense to either Dave or Freddy, though they both strained their ears to the utmost. A terrible dryness was in Dave’s mouth, and his heart was hammering against his ribs. For a crazy instant he wanted to shake the injured man back to consciousness and find out, what about Colonel Welsh? But of course he didn’t do anything like that. He simply squatted there on the ground with Freddy Farmer and stared helplessly at the dying man. Would he go, now, or would he revive again long enough to speak more? Much as he wanted to know what the injured pilot had to say, Dave could not but hope with all his heart that the man might be spared more pain and suffering, and be taken to his heavenly reward in peace.
However, the spark of life burned fiercely in the injured pilot. Once more he came back to consciousness, once more he looked up into Dave Dawson’s face, and once more his lips moved and whispered words.
“Tell—Colonel Welsh—Seven-Eleven—I’m sure—oxygen! Passed—out. Tell—tell him—”
The whispering started to fail, and Dave put his ear close to the man’s trembling lips.
“Yes, old fellow?” he pleaded. “Go on! What do you want us to tell Colonel Welsh? We’re meeting him in Frisco tonight.”
The dying man’s eyes lighted up with a sort of wild joy.
“Thank God!” came the faint sound. “Tell him—southern—southern al—bar—cur—keys. Understand? Southern al—bar—cur—keys. Seven-Eleven—there.... Strike—soon! Hurry—hurry—hur—”
The whispering sounds faded away. The injured pilot’s eyes seemed to give off showers of sparks. He heaved himself up on one elbow, tried to speak again, but failed. A long soft sigh slid out from between his lips. Then he slumped back on the ground. His eyes fluttered closed. And he lay still. Dave started to speak again, but he checked himself. He knew that this pilot would never again hear a human voice in this world. He was gone forever, leaving behind the jumbled up sounds of words that represented some secret now forever locked in his brain.
Dave and Freddy slowly got to their feet, stood silently at attention, and solemnly saluted the dead pilot on the ground. On impulse Dave took off his tunic and reverently placed it over the dead man’s head and shoulders. Then he turned and looked at Freddy.
“Did you catch all that?” he asked. “Did it mean anything to you?”