Dave kept the grin on his face, but there was suddenly a tiny ache in his heart. That last from Freddy had hit just a trifle below the belt. Guess Freddy was getting ideas that maybe he was losing his grip. Well—what else should he think? Dave shook such thoughts from his head, and reached for the throttle.
“All aboard for Albuquerque!” he shouted, and raised a hand to his helmet in salute to Colonel Bates and his officers. “Thanks again for everything, and I hope we come through here again some day.”
Without waiting to see if his salute was returned, or to give anybody a chance to say anything, Dave eased the throttle open and sent the Vultee rolling out to the head end of the lighted runway. He swung around into the wind, got the green light from the signal tower, and fed the Cyclone all the high test hop she could take. As though it were something human, and desperately eager to get into the air, the Vultee streaked forward and picked up more and more speed with every revolution of its steel-bladed prop. Presently Dave lifted it clear, got the wheels up, and the nose pointed toward the crystal-dotted night sky over Texas. He kept on going up until he was a good seventeen thousand above the earth. Then he leveled off and put the plane on a crow flight course for Albuquerque.
He relaxed a bit in the seat, letting the ship fly herself, and sort of waited for words to come from Freddy Farmer’s lips. But the English born air ace said nothing. He sat slumped down in his seat, staring at the vast array of twinkling stars overhead. Dave shrugged, grinned in the glow of his instrument panel light, and let the plane fly onward toward Albuquerque.
That is, he flew toward Albuquerque for about ten minutes; then he touched the stick and rudder pedal and veered way around until the Vultee was heading due east. For a second Freddy Farmer didn’t notice the abrupt change of course. But when he did he sat up straight, leaned forward a bit and rapped Dave on the shoulder.
“Do you know you’re ninety degrees off your course?” he called out.
“No I’m not!” Dave called back, only half turning his head. “I’m right on it, pal. Right on the old beam!”
“Heading due east?” Freddy cried. “Just where in the world do you think Albuquerque is? Out in the Gulf of Mexico?”
“Albuquerque?” Dave echoed, thoroughly enjoying himself. “Who the thunder said anything about Albuquerque? I didn’t have any ideas about going to Albuquerque!”
Dave waited for what he fully expected. And he wasn’t disappointed. Suddenly both of Freddy’s hands were about his neck, and there was just a suggestion of pressure in the English youth’s fingers.