Alf's knees trembled beneath him. He came guiltily to attention, wondering if the airmen could suspect his complicity in the affair.
The pilot's feelings suddenly boiled over again.
"My God!" he said thickly, "I'd like to kill somebody for this!"
Unconsciously he fixed Alf with a baleful glare.
"I'm—I'm sorry, sir," quavered Private Higgins, losing his head completely.
The observer laughed mirthlessly.
"Well," he said to Alf. "It wasn't your fault, anyway. Come on, Tony, let's see if we can't find a mess somewhere. You'll feel better after a whisky. Not ..." he concluded, exploding in his turn, "that I don't think it's the rottenest bit of luck that ever happened."
"All right," said the pilot. "Here, you'll stand by the machine, will you? I'll tell 'em in the camp that I ordered you to."
"Yessir!" said Alf, saluting; and he thankfully watched them go towards the camp.
As soon as they were out of sight, Alf rubbed his button. The djinn appeared, wearing a self-satisfied smirk at the striking proof of his powers his new master had just received.