"Farmer?" Dawson gasped after a moment of stunned silence. "Freddy Farmer! Boy, are the two of us running in luck, I don't think. Me with a lame duck, and Freddy with a jammed landing gear!"
"You know him?" the other officer grunted. Then, as he looked at Dave, "Oh, you're Dawson, his pal, aren't you? Well, cross your fingers, Dawson. Just now as I left Operations he was pleading with the Old Man to let him come in on two wheels. But those things come in very hot, and the Old Man wants him to fly off and hit the silk. Only a screwball would—"
But Dawson didn't wait to hear the rest of the officer's opinion. He spun around and went legging it over to the Operations Office. The door was open and he heard Major Starke talking over the R.T. to Freddy Farmer in the air.
"I know, Farmer," the C.O. was saying. "You might get away with it, but it's too risky. Pilots are more valuable than planes to me. So long as you save your neck, writing off that plane doesn't matter so much. Head east and get some altitude; then cut your switches and go over the side, Farmer. I'll send a jeep out to look for you, and pick you up."
"But I've got half an hour of gas left, sir!" came Freddy's voice through the panel speaker unit. "Give me fifteen more minutes, sir. Maybe by then I can get the blasted wheels up, and come in on my belly. She's really a pukka ship, save for the blasted landing gear, sir. I don't want to have to hit the deck and burn up for a total loss if I can possibly help it. Just fifteen minutes more, sir?"
Dawson saw the squadron C.O. scowl, bite his lower lip, and then shrug.
"All right, Farmer, if you insist," he spoke into the R.T. "Do what you can, but only for fifteen minutes. We can always get another Lightning. But an experienced combat pilot is something else again. Fifteen minutes, Farmer. And I'm looking at my watch."
"Right you are, sir!" came Freddy Farmer's cheerful voice. "I'll see if I can't do something with this cranky blighter."
"For only fifteen minutes!" the C.O. had the last word. "And I mean just that!"
It seemed that Freddy Farmer was content to let his commanding officer have the last word. At least the English-born air ace made no further comment. Dawson waited for a couple of seconds, and then stepped back from the Operations Office door, and fixed his gaze once more on the plane that was circling the field at cruising speed.