At mess there was a lot of general talk, but very little of it came from Colonel Bates’ lips. Dave caught him glancing his way several times, and there was a look of puzzled disapproval in the Base Commandant’s eyes. Dave had a pretty fair hunch that the Colonel had heard him make that crack to Freddy about it being too darn dangerous in bombers. Oh well, it didn’t matter what anybody thought. Yet, on the contrary, it mattered a lot. Yes! Just so long as they thought the things he hoped they would think.
Eventually the time for Dave and Freddy to take off rolled around. Colonel Bates and a couple of the other officers walked out with them to where the Vultee was waiting. But when Dave reached it he didn’t climb up into the pit. Instead he walked deliberately to the next Vultee in line, and climbed aboard it. Colonel Bates stopped dead in his tracks, and gaped.
“But this is your plane, Dawson,” he said, and pointed to the first Vultee.
“I know, sir,” Dave said easily, and motioned to Freddy to leg in back. “But I suddenly want to take this one. It’s all right, isn’t it, sir?”
The Base Commandant gulped, looked angry for a moment, and then shrugged.
“I guess it is,” he said. “They’re both all set for flight. Yes, go ahead and take it, if it makes you feel any better.”
“It does, and thanks, sir,” Dave said, and jabbed the starter button. After he got the Wright Cyclone kicking over, and throttled down to warm up revs, he looked at the Base Commandant and smiled again. “Thanks for everything, sir!” he called out. “Is there anything I can do at Albuquerque for you?”
“Nothing that I can think of,” Colonel Bates replied dryly. “Just tell them we can handle all the ferry planes they send along. And we hope they’ll send along a lot.”
“I’ll tell them that, sir,” Dave said. Then, twisting around in the pit, he called out, “All set, Freddy? All strapped in, and got your hot water bottle handy?”
“Quite!” the English youth replied in a flat tone. “And I don’t think I need a hot water bottle!”