"Frankly," Freddy said as a wistful expression spread over his tired face. "Frankly, I'd like a—"
"I know!" Dave shouted him down. "A nice pot of hot tea! With cream. Well, pal, you're going to get one. Get a thousand. For the first time Dave Dawson is going to buy all the tea he can get. But for you. Strictly for you! There's a limit to any friendship, my friend!"
THE END
[1] Dave Dawson, Flight Lieutenant.
[2] Dave Dawson With The R.A.F.
A Page from
DAVE DAWSON ON THE RUSSIAN FRONT
The moving dot silhouetted against the bleak, cheerless-looking sky grew bigger and bigger. Presently it ceased to be just a moving dot. It took on the definite shape and outline of a German Messerschmitt One-Ten. Dave watched it a moment longer, and then when the Nazi craft suddenly veered off to the west, and went streaking upward toward a brooding bank of clouds, he took a quick glance at Freddy Farmer flying just off his right wing, and started to snap out a short burst from his guns.