Dave had eased off the window catch so that it slid down on Freddy's neck. He held it there with his hands and grinned at the air raid wardens through the glass. They roared with laughter. Then as the train started to move, Dave released Freddy's neck and pushed the window up.
"Good luck!" he shouted, and leaned out. "Thumbs up, mates!"
"The same to you, sir!" they shouted back. "Thumbs up, R.A.F.!"
The train picked up speed, and another little incident in the war careers of Dave Dawson and Freddy Farmer became history. They closed the window, pulled the curtain down, and sank back on the seats. Freddy rubbed the back of his neck and glared at Dave's grinning face.
"Go ahead and grin, you queer-looking ape," he muttered. "But I'll get back at you, no fear. And when I do, you'll jolly well know it, too."
"Let that be a lesson to you to speak of your superiors in the future with more respect," Dave chuckled. "You're lucky, my little man, I didn't make you keep your head hanging out there all the way to London. But, gee, you English are certainly swell people!"
"Naturally," Freddy said in mock gravity. "Look who we are, my dear fellow. And just think how fortunate you are to have the opportunity to observe and learn."
"No kidding, though," Dave said, "Hitler just hasn't a chance. It gave me a great kick to meet those air raid wardens back there."
"I know what you mean," Freddy said, and nodded. "It isn't just the Army, and the Navy, and the Air Force fighting Hitler, now. It's England—all of England from the oldest right down to the youngest."
"What a dope Hitler was even to think he could get away with it!" Dave murmured. "Boy, oh boy! Is that guy riding for one big fall!"