“This is the end!” he grated out. “I’m fed up to the teeth with being a clay pigeon for unseen sharpshooters.”
“What do you mean?” Freddy asked with a faint trace of anxiety in his voice.
“What I said!” Dave grunted. “First it was Frisco, then it was Albuquerque, and now it’s practically Brownsville. Well, that’s enough of that business for me. Now we’ll give those rats something to really think about!”
“Oh, quite!” Freddy echoed, tight-lipped. “Quite. But would you mind telling me just what’s in your mind? Or is it too great a secret?”
“Keep your shirt on, and come back to earth!” Dave snapped at him. “It’s no secret between you and me. When we get to Brownsville, we’re borrowing a plane and we’re going back to Albuquerque!”
The English born air ace couldn’t speak for a moment. He could only stare at Dawson in dumbfounded amazement.
“Going back to Albuquerque?” he finally managed to choke out. “Are you mad?”
“I’m plenty mad!” Dave told him. “But not the way you’re thinking, pal. Just relax and leave everything to me. I’ve got an idea, I have. Just follow my lead, and maybe everything will turn out swell.”
“Which, of course, means not to question you, eh?” Freddy murmured. “Right-o, then. I don’t see why I agree with you so often, but I do. I suppose that means you have one or two good points. Very well, I’ll just relax and let you lead the blasted parade.”
Dave just looked at him, grinned, and winked.