"Not your fault, Farmer," Major Starke said as he came up. "There was a little hump in the ground that tripped your wing tip. Hit it once myself and it practically bounced me off for a take-up. No, not your fault, Farmer. Thank God you were able to hold her from cartwheeling and catching fire."
"But look at her, sir!" Freddy cried, almost with tears in his voice. "She's twisted bad. She'll have to go to the repair depot for quite a spell before she'll fly again."
"And that'll be all right, too," the C.O. said grimly. Then, suddenly turning to Dawson, he asked, "What about your plane?"
"No good, sir," Dave replied. "Both engines have a lot of bugs, and the rest is not much better."
"That's what I was afraid of," the C.O. said with a frown. "I had a hunch that both were junk ships. Well, we'll send both of them back. And you and Farmer can go down to Replacement Depot at Kingston, and each get yourself a new plane."
"Kingston, sir?" Freddy Farmer echoed excitedly. "You mean down beyond London, sir?"
The C.O. looked at him, grinned, and nodded.
"That's right, Farmer," he said. "You'll pass through London on the way down there. And if you'd like to stop off for say twenty-four hours, that will be all right with me. Things are a bit quiet, and I expect you both could do with a look at London."
"Could we!" Freddy Farmer exclaimed, and grinned happily at Dawson.
Dave sighed and shrugged.