Dawson had pulled the wrinkled envelope from the inner pocket of his tunic and was holding it out to Freddy Farmer. However, the English youth didn't touch it. In fact, he backed away slowly and sat down hard on the edge of the bunk. And his face was one great picture of absolute dumbfounded amazement.
"Good grief, good grief!" he gasped over and over again. "Good grief, you actually did do it, Dave! Will miracles never cease! Why, I never would believe that—"
"See?" Dawson cut in with a sad shake of his head. "You save the bum's life, and you pull rabbits out of a hat, and the guy has the nerve to tell you he doesn't believe you. He—"
"I didn't say any such thing!" Freddy cried. "I simply said that I—"
"Now, don't try to get out from under!" Dave shut him off and waggled a finger. "I know perfectly well that you—Blub!"
The last was as the wet towel came into his face. And for the next couple of minutes the cruiser's captain would have had sixteen epileptic fits if he had stuck his head inside that cabin and seen those "flying chaps" roughhousing it out with wet towels and gobs of soapsuds!
[CHAPTER EIGHT]
Home Again
The dimout hour for the eastern seaboard of the United States was not many minutes away as Dawson slid the cruiser's seaplane down to a perfect landing in the La Guardia Airport basin. As soon as he had settled, he taxied over to the mooring ramp where attendants took over and tied up. Then Freddy and he stepped ashore and started for the Customs Office.
"Fine lot we've got to declare!" Freddy Farmer spoke for the first time in quite a while. "What with our bags still aboard that Lockheed, and down at the bottom of the Atlantic. I'll never forgive the Jerry beggars for that dirty trick."