“They were not mistaken,” said Sparky. “The lady pilot belongs to this plane. She’s coming later with Scottie Burns.”
“Oh! Scottie!” the boy exclaimed. “Very good flier, Scottie, mebby seventy Japs he shoot down, me not know.”
“That’s a great record,” said Sparky. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Me, Hop Sing. Alla time me hop—sometimes me sing.” The boy laughed at his misfortune.
“You’re all right.” Sparky laughed with him. “How did you lose your leg?”
“Zero plane come down,” the boy swept the air with an arm, “came zoom! Zoom! Zoom! Machine gun—rat-tat-tat, go down me. Too many times shot. American hospital doctors fix up. Now, me, I got machine gun. Want Zero come back.”
“You Chinese people have been taking the rap for us all these long years,” Sparky said soberly. “Now—here we are.”
“Very soon come many big planes,” said the boy. “Mebby bomb Tokio.”
“Maybe yes, maybe no,” Sparky said.
After looking the plane over carefully, then locking it up tight, they made a dash through the pelting rain where a warm welcome and a good American dinner awaited them.