“It is, sir,” Freddy Farmer said quietly. “It’s one end of a pencil incendiary bomb that wasn’t melted by the terrific heat, I fancy.”
The bomber’s commander snapped his head up sharply.
“Huh, what’s that?” he barked. “A pencil incendiary bomb? This?”
“What’s left of it, sir,” Freddy said with a nod. “They are usually about four or five inches long. It is divided in the center by a copper disc. One kind of eating acid is poured in one end, and sealed with wax. Another kind of acid is poured in the other, and sealed up. The two acids eat into the copper disc in the middle, and when they mingle they explode and give off a terrific heat.”
“Oh, yes, I remember about reading of these things in the last war,” the Major said absently. “German spies in the States used to toss them into cargos going aboard ship. When the ship got out to sea, it caught on fire.”
“That’s right, sir,” Freddy said. “And the thickness of the copper disc in the middle determined the time the fire would occur.”
“Yeah, sure,” Major Hawks grunted. Then, stiffening slightly, he barked, “But what’s one of these things doing aboard my Fortress? Holy smoke! Sabotage! Sabotage in the air! I’ll radio the rest of the flight to go through their ships with a fine toothed comb. God grant me time!” This last breathed as a prayer.
Dave opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly thought better of it. He let the Major whirl around and dash back toward the radio nook.
“Perhaps it’s better to let him go,” Freddy Farmer murmured. “To let him think that, eh?”
Dave didn’t answer at once. He stepped over to one of the ports, and peered out into the surrounding sky. Though he was sure that he would spot them, nevertheless a great feeling of relief surged through him when he counted the five other Flying Fortresses winging along behind in loose formation. Presently he turned from the port and looked at Freddy, and slowly closed his hands into rock hard fists. He gave a vicious nod of his head as he spoke.