“There I was winning the war all by myself, and ten of the most beautiful girls in the world waiting to hang medals on my manly chest!” he growled. “So now, what?”
“For the third time,” Freddy Farmer said evenly, “I’ve got a feeling!”
“Well, have it for the fourth time, and see if I care!” Dawson snapped. “Wake a guy up from a beautiful dream just because you’ve got a feeling? Well, go buy some flea powder, or something!”
Freddy grinned and held his thumb up, ready to jab it to the ribs again.
“One thing I like about you, Dave,” he said. “You’re always cheerful and gay. Never a scowl or a sharp word. Going to stay awake, or must I give you this again?”
“Do, and you’ll have a three mile swim!” Dave muttered, but sat up just the same. “Because that’s how far out I’ll heave you. But very well, my little man. What’s bothering you today? Tell Papa, and then he’ll go buy you a nice big lollypop, all coated with arsenic! Shoot!”
Freddy Farmer didn’t reply at once. He played with the sand some more, and took another look at the blue of the Pacific.
“Well, I don’t think we’ll be here very long, Dave,” he finally said slowly. “I have the feeling that something is brewing, and about to pop, as you would say. Did you stop at the desk for mail when we left the hotel this morning?”
“I did not!” Dawson replied quickly. “And if you must know the truth, my bothersome friend, I had a feeling that there was something there I didn’t want to see. So I sailed right on by without giving the mail box a look. But it’ll be there when we go back this noon. So what, so what, I always say.”
“I wonder what kind of a job Colonel Welsh has lined up for us next time,” Freddy murmured. “He didn’t drop any hint to you, did he?”