A distant throbbing beat bored its way into Dave's head and jacked him back to consciousness. He opened his eyes and stared blankly up at ceiling beams. A musty smell was in his nose. A musty smell mingled with the aroma of horses long since departed. As he stared blankly at the ceiling beams a small part of his brain began functioning. It told him that he was stretched out on some straw. In a deserted stable probably. And when he started to push up to a sitting position stabbing pain in his head and neck told him to take things easy for a little longer.

"Does it hurt much, Dave? I'm awfully sorry. I didn't mean it to work quite that way."

Dave steeled himself against the pain and gingerly turned his head to see Freddy Farmer stretched out on the straw a couple of feet from him. There was a spot of dried blood on the English youth's pale face. His eyes were steady, however. And a grin covered up any aftermath pain he might be feeling. Dave made his own lips grin back.

"What happened?" he grunted. "Were we on a ship and got torpedoed? No, wait! I remember, now. You got that guy mad, and he slugged you. I tried to slug him but darn near broke my hand. He slugged me right back, and broke my head, I think. It feels that way. Does it look broken?"

"Not from here, Dave," Freddy said. "You've got a bit of a cut on your jaw, but outside of that you look fit enough. I'm awfully sorry, though, Dave. It seemed rather a bright idea at the time."

Dave slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position, and then held his head with his hands until things stopped whirling around. When they stopped he saw that he was in an old unused stable. There was a window on both sides, but too high for him to look out without standing on something. The heavy doors in front had been rolled shut.

"There's an armed guard outside," Freddy Farmer cautioned. "So you'd better not try to open the doors."

"Where are we, anyway?" Dave asked. "I guess you weren't out cold as long as I've been. What time is it...? Holy smoke! Is that red glow a sunset?"

Without waiting for Freddy to answer Dave looked at his wrist watch. The hands said fifteen minutes after five. In the evening, or morning?

"Evening," Freddy said, guessing his thoughts. "We've been here all day. I regained consciousness for a moment as they were throwing us inside, here. That's when I saw the armed guard. Then everything went black again. I woke up just a few seconds before you did, I guess. Hear those plane engines? We must be pretty close to a Nazi airfield."

Dave cocked his ear to the sound of engines being warmed up, and smiled sadly at Freddy Farmer.

"Now I know what they mean when they say, so near yet so far away," he grunted. "But look, Freddy! What was all that crazy business about General von Peiplow, anyway?"

The English youth shrugged and sighed heavily.

"I got to thinking," he said after a moment or so. "I mean, there was no telling what that madman might do next. And he is mad, Dave!"

"You're telling me?" the Yank grunted. "You could almost see the bats flying out of his belfry! He's crazy as a coot, and dangerous as a bushel basket of cobras."

"Exactly!" Freddy agreed. "And I was afraid you were going to sting him into losing his temper completely. So...."

"Me sting him?" Dave echoed with a short laugh. "Little man, you weren't exactly complimenting the guy, you know. He didn't like that great big ox crack even a little bit."

"That was stupid of me, wasn't it!" Freddy grunted with a nod. "But it just popped off my lips. As I said, though, I got to thinking. Realizing that he'd been up there in the air and had made no effort to slaughter us ... that is, until you pulled that stunt to help Barker and me escape ... it struck me that he must have had a good reason. And it struck me right after that, that he must have been under orders to capture us alive. It was a wild guess, of course. So I spoke of General von Peiplow as I did. I thought that might stop him from going haywire, and killing us in his rage. I think it did stop him, Dave. The look I saw in his eyes seemed to me to say that I had struck the nail on the head. I mean, that he really was under orders to deliver us to von Peiplow alive."

Dave grunted and gingerly fingered his aching jaw.

"Well, maybe so," he said. "Maybe you stopped him from going the limit on us. But, boy, he went plenty far enough for me, I can tell you. If he'd belted me twice, I.... But maybe he did. I sure feel as if I were still bouncing."

"Well, I really am sorry for egging him on too much," Freddy said. "But at least it got us rid of him."

"Or him rid of us!" Dave grunted. "But look, Freddy. Think you can get up on your feet and navigate?"

"I can manage it, yes," the English youth said and got slowly up on his feet. "But where do you expect to navigate to?"

"To that old saw-horse in the corner for one thing," Dave said, pointing. "We'll carry it over under the window, there, and take a look outside. I'm curious to get a look at the scenery around here."

"Wait, Dave!" Freddy cried as the Yank started over toward the saw-horse in the corner. "Are you crazy?"

Dave stopped and turned to look at his pal.

"No more than usual," he said. "What's eating you, though?"

"Never trust a Nazi!" Freddy said sharply. "Good grief, haven't you learned that, yet?"

"Huh?" Dave echoed with a frown. "Hey, what the heck are you going to do? Pole vault through the window? It's too small, fellow. You'd never make it."

Freddy Farmer had picked up a weather rusted old pitch fork on the stable floor. He pulled off his helmet and hung it over the prongs of the fork. Then as Dave stared wide eyed he walked over to the window and pushed the helmet up above the window sill level. A split second later there came the crack of a high powered rifle from somewhere outside, and a metallic wasp whined in through the window opening and went plunk into a sturdy wall stud on the far side of the stable.

Freddy lowered the pitch fork and looked silently at Dave. The Yank swallowed hard and grinned sheepishly.

"Like I've always said," he murmured, "you're the one guy I like to have around all the time. Thanks, pal. That makes me the dumb bunny."

"I fancy you'll learn, if the war lasts long enough!" Freddy grunted. "Not that you would have been shot. Only to scare you, and stop you from trying to escape through the windows. However, I don't trust Nazis. Particularly their marksmanship. So sit down and rest, Dave. All we can do is wait."

The two youths dropped back on the straw and stared gloomily off into space. Eventually Freddy broke the silence that had settled over them.

"Do you think that's true about Barker, Dave?" he asked. "I mean, what Comstadt said?"

"I don't know, Freddy," Dave replied with a frown. "Maybe he was lying when he said Barker was dead. Maybe he wasn't. The last look I had at Barker he was out in the clear and well on his way. Of course, though, he might have run into some other Nazi ships that I didn't see. There's one thing, though, that we've got to face, Freddy. Or have you thought of it, too?"

"Barker's pictures not telling British Intelligence anything they want to know?" the English youth replied. "Yes, I've thought of that. And I'm just a little afraid, Dave, that it may be true, even if he does get back to England. I didn't see anything with my own eyes that made any sense. To tell you the truth, I think we could take pictures of this area all day long and not snap a blessed thing except their blasted camouflage stuff."

"That's the way I figure it, too," Dave said in a dejected voice. "So, whether or not Barker got back ... and I sure hope like everything that he did ... I don't think it will make any difference. I mean, it looks like it's up to us, Freddy. You and me, and nobody to help us."

"Yes, I fancy you're right," Freddy murmured. "You don't happen to have an idea what we do next, do you?"

"No," Dave groaned. "The old brain's a blank. I guess we've just got to sit here, and.... No! The heck we have! I'll get us some attention, and I'll get it in a hurry, too. Get over by those rolling doors, Freddy. I got a bright idea."

"You tell it to me, first!" Freddy said and didn't move. "Your last bright idea wasn't so bright, you know."

"But this one is!" Dave cried and pulled a clip of matches from his pocket. "Look! We're not dead, are we? No. They didn't shoot us, did they? No. They just put us on ice in here until they get darn good and ready to do something about it. Well, I'm going to make them get good and ready in a hurry. I'm going to set this straw on fire, pal. You wait. They'll come for us in a hurry."

"But maybe they won't!" the English youth protested.............