“Where’d you get that expression?” Jack demanded.
“I think,” her brown eyes twinkled, “that it was in Kentucky.”
“Kentucky?” Jack exclaimed. “Then you—”
“Sure!” she laughed. “You’re getting warm now.” She pulled wads of palm fiber from her nostrils and from under her lips. They had been put there to make her nostrils seem wider and thicker. Then she drew a small bottle from a pocket in her native belt to rub the brown from the backs of her hands.
“So you’re an American!” Stew exclaimed.
“Just plain Mary Brown from the U. S. A.,” she said proudly.
“Great Scott!” Stew exclaimed. “How’d you get here, anyway, and what’s the meaning of the disguise?”
“It’s a long story.” She hesitated. “I’d tell it to you now, but first, you tell me if you can, what that shooting was about out there on the water?”
“That,” Jack’s face grew tense, “that was a friend of ours named Ted who tried to rescue us.”
“And he was shot down by the Germans in the jet plane?” Mary Brown asked.