Project Gutenberg's Sparky Ames of the Ferry Command, by Roy J. Snell This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Title: Sparky Ames of the Ferry Command Sparky Ames and Mary Mason of the Ferry Command Author: Roy J. Snell Illustrator: Erwin L. Darwin Release Date: December 27, 2014 [EBook #47793] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPARKY AMES OF THE FERRY COMMAND *** Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Rick Morris, Rod Crawford, Dave Morgan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Sparky Ames of the Ferry Command Story by ROY J. SNELL Illustrated by ERWIN L. DARWIN FIGHTERS FOR FREEDOM Series WHITMAN PUBLISHING COMPANY RACINE, WISCONSIN Copyright, 1943, by WHITMAN PUBLISHING COMPANY Printed in U.S.A. All names, characters, places, and events in this story are entirely fictitious TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I The Flight of the Lone Star 11 II Savages and the Night 21 III Battling a Spy 35 IV The Big Hop 47 V The Lady in Black 61 VI Mysterious Moslem 72 VII Battling at Close Quarters 84 VIII Desert Battles 95 IX A Roll of Papyrus 109 X Two Can Hide in a Cloud 120 XI The Tumbling Donkey 130 XII Sealed Orders 145 XIII Snake Charmer 157 XIV The Cast Assembles 163 XV Burma Detour 179 XVI “Me Got Machine Gun!” 192 XVII In Swift Pursuit 204 XVIII Where Are They? 215 XIX St. Elmo’s Fire 225 XX Deep Secrets Revealed 235 ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE A Formation of Four-Motored Planes Passed Over 10 The Lone Star Came to Rest at the Foot of the Hill 23 Sparky and Mary Watched the Natives Come Closer 37 “We’ll Have to Go It Alone,” Said Mary 51 Soldiers Greeted Them at the Secret Airfield 65 Mary Found Herself Creating a Sensation 75 Between Him and the Jap Was a Trap-Door 89 “Captain Ramsey, This Is My Daughter, Mary.” 101 The Quiet, Swinging Rhythm Set Her Dreaming 113 The Fighter Planes Guarded Her Air Lane 123 Men Sat Cross-Legged in the Midst of Their Wares 135 “It’s out of a Story Book,” Mary Whispered 141 “I’m Judy Pierce,” Said an Attractive Young Lady 153 She Cornered Sparky for a Private Conference 165 “Nobody Dares Touch a Flying Tiger!” 173 “I’ll Write to Your Mothers,” She Promised 185 A Powerful Plane Swept Down Upon the Field 197 “The Lady in Black Knows the Secret of Our Cargo!” 209 “That Means a Storm!” Sparky Exclaimed 221 Hop Sing’s Report Was Terrifying 231 Endpaper illustration 249 i A Formation of Four-Motored Planes Passed Over ii Sparky Ames of the FERRY COMMAND CHAPTER I THE FLIGHT OF THE LONE STAR The air above the Brazilian jungles along the dark waters of the Rio Branco in northern Brazil was full of sound. The roar and thunder of many motors beat down upon the sea of waving treetops until it seemed to stir them into animated life. A formation of great, four-motored planes was passing over. Two natives in a small dugout on the river dropped their paddles into their wooden canoe, then sat staring upward. The river’s current swept them beneath the branches of a dead mango tree. One of them reached up to snap off a brittle branch. Breaking pieces from this branch he placed them, one by one, in the bottom of the canoe. When there were thirty-eight pieces, he stopped to sit as if in a trance watching those great, man-made birds go sweeping on. Presently his companion grunted, then pointed at the sky upstream. The first native again looked skyward, then placed two more sticks with the others, making forty in all. Then he drawled a few native words that in our language mean: “One of these big birds is very sick.” This native was old. He had lived long beneath the overhanging treetops. He knew the ways of birds and men, but not of airplanes. For all that, he was right. One of these flying things of metal was sick, very sick. Even as he said the words, there came a sudden burst of thunder, and the larger of the two planes, the one that was not “sick,” a ship so well formed—sleek and beautiful—that a native’s eyes shone at sight of it, pulled away from its slow, sick companion and went speeding along over the forest that lined the downsweep of the river. “Gone,” said the native. “Now this one will die.” His eyes shone with a new light. Once on the Rio Negro, he had seen one of these man-made birds. There had been much on that plane that he had coveted. And now— These last two planes were not bombers, but transport planes. It was quite evident that the speeding plane had not deserted its companion, for, in a short time, it came roaring back and a girl’s voice speaking into a radio said: “There’s a rather large clearing about fifty miles down. Think you can make it?” “We’ll have to try,” came in a man’s strong, even tone. “We’re on one motor now. The other is cutting out on me. Can’t tell how soon it will quit dead.” “We’ll tag along,” came in the girl’s voice. “If you make it—” “If we get that far, we’ll try a landing,” was the answer. “And if anything goes wrong—” “You’ll fly right on.” The man’s voice was harsh, insistent. “Remember! Secret—” “Don’t say it, Sparky!” The girl’s voice rose sharp as an alarmed bird’s. “Don’t say it!” “All right! All right!” the man’s voice grumbled into the tropical air. “Then I won’t say it. All the same—” “All the same, if you go down there we’re coming right down after you,” the girl insisted. “You know what our orders were, to fly in pairs. If one plane is disabled, its mate must go to the rescue. All other planes must go straight on. We’re on a mission of destruction. That’s all we know. It’s urgent. We must go through!” “Okay, sister, that’s why you should fly right on.” “But we won’t.” The girl spoke quietly. “If you crack up, we’ll be right down. This ship has control. I can land her on a dime.” “But don’t forget—” “I never forget,” the girl snapped. “Now go on down there and try your luck. It’s all that’s left to do.” “What’d he mean—secret?” The blonde-haired girl who sat in the co-pilot seat beside the girl who had carried on that spirited conversation, drawled, “What secret?” “Sorry, Janet,” was the slow reply. “You’ve heard of military secrets, I suppose?” “For Pete’s sake, Mary Mason! Yes! Of course, I have, but I don’t see—” “This is one of them.” Mary Mason, the little girl who piloted a big plane, favored her with a smile. After that, save for the slow drone of motors, there was quiet in the cabin, a tense sort of calm, such as comes before a storm. After a time the blonde-haired Janet said: “Sparky’s motors didn’t stop all by themselves.” 11 12 13 14 “Of course they didn’t. Sparky’s too good a pilot for that.” “He sure is. It’s the work of the enemy. That’s what it is. He knows. He’s after us, after you and Sparky, Don and me. He’s got us coming down in a jungle and we’re only just out of good, old U.S.A. And think of the dizzy miles still ahead of us! And the enemy dogging our luck all the way!” “I thought of him before I started,” Mary replied quietly. “Let him do his worst. We’ll win, you’ll see!” For the swift, powerful twin-motored transport plane flown by Mary Mason, the distance to that native clearing on the Rio Branco was just a jump, but she did not jump. Instead she followed doggedly on behind her limping companion. And as she followed, she found time to think. Those were long, long thoughts. She was a member of the WAFS, Women’s Auxiliary Ferrying Squadron, this slender girl with the flashing black eyes and trigger-quick fingers. For six wintry months she had flown planes from east to west, from north to south, and all the way back again. Sometimes these planes were transport planes or bombers with comfortable, heated cabins. More often they were open-seated trainers or fighters. She flew them in wind, rain, and snow. Mile after weary mile in lonely solitude she had gone roaring through the night sky to arrive at last at her destination only to be ushered aboard an airways plane and hurried back again. “It was hard,” she said to Janet Janes, her companion. “Sure it was,” the other girl agreed. “Looks as if this would be harder.” “Perhaps,” Mary answered. “But just think! In the past two days it’s been San Francisco to Denver, to Chicago, to Miami!” “To Caracas, and then to the heart of a jungle where headhunters beat on hollow logs inviting their friends to a feast.” Janet laughed in spite of herself. “This will be just a pause,” Mary insisted stoutly. “After that it will be Para, to Dakar in Africa, Dakar to Egypt and the pyramids, Egypt to Persia—” “Under the Persian moon,” Janet sang softly. And then: “Watch!” Mary exclaimed. “There’s the clearing. Sparky has spotted it. He’s preparing to circle. He’s going down!” Suddenly Mary set her motors thundering. After climbing steeply she leveled off to stare down at the clearing. “He didn’t go down, not yet,” Janet informed her. “No. There are people running from that row of native huts. He’d hit them.” “They’re like ants coming from an ant hill. They don’t seem important.” “Oh! But they are!” Mary exclaimed. “Every human life is important. Besides, if Sparky killed just one of them, our lives wouldn’t be worth a penny. We’re in the wilds.” “Probably not a white man within a hundred miles.” “Or perhaps a thousand.” “I wish we might go on.” A suggestion of strain crept into Janet’s voice. “Oh! But we can’t.” Mary’s plane was circling slowly now. “Of course we couldn’t go on,” she told herself. “Not even if Sparky insisted.” Through her racing mind whirled memories of other days, those bad days of winter convoy in America. There had been only twenty-five of them, twenty-five WAFS, and so much work to do. Always, on her return from a long, hard trip, muddy, chilled through and half-starved, if he chanced to be in, she had found Sparky waiting in his car to whisk her away to her barracks and after that to a glorious hot meal. “Thick, juicy steaks, French fries, lemon pie, and barrels of hot coffee,” she whispered. And now Sparky was down there below her in his disabled plane waiting, waiting for the last darting spot to glide from those huts into the bush that lay beyond. No, they could not go on. “Not even for the secret—” she spoke aloud, then checked herself just in time. “He can’t climb,” she said to Janet. “He can only circle. And if his other motor quits he may go crashing straight down!” “There!” Janet breathed. “Now there’s no one!” “Yes, just one more.” A very small black spot, moving, oh, so slowly, went weaving this way, then that, toward the forest. “A child!” Mary exclaimed. “How Sparky would hate hitting a child!” “Now!” Janet breathed. “No,” Mary groaned. “One more, a smaller one.” It seemed an eternity before this last child had reached safety. Of a sudden the plane beneath them lunged downward. “There they go!” Janet gasped while Mary’s clutching fingers fairly bit into the stick. But no, Sparky’s plane seemed to shudder. No doubt his motor had quit, then gone on again. “Why doesn’t he go down?” Mary groaned. “Here, take the plane!” She gave Janet her place. “Just circle slowly.” With long, swift strides she reached the plane’s door. There she braced herself, then stood watching the plane below. “He’s going down,” she whispered. It was true. Circling slowly, cautiously, Sparky nursed his disabled plane at last into a smooth glide that brought him swiftly down. “He’s out too far,” she groaned. “He’s afraid there’s just one more native child. “There!” she exclaimed. “He’s down!” She saw the big plane bump hard, then bump—bump again. It did not heel over, but went gliding straight on. “He made it!” she screamed aloud. “Oh! Glory!” Bright hopes sped through her mind. The defective motors would soon be repaired. Before the natives returned they 15 16 17 18 19 would once again rise high above the jungle and speed away to rejoin their convoy. She had begun to feel dreadfully lonesome away from all that thundering flight. At Para, they would be united and then— Her thoughts broke off. Her lips parted in a scream that did not come. Of a sudden the ship down there on the ground, gliding forward, had whirled half about. Its right wing crumpled; it turned toward the black waters of the river. After gliding forward half the distance to those threatening waters, it came to a sudden halt, then crumpled into a heap. With lips parted she kept her eyes glued upon the plane. Would it be set on fire? A slow smoke rose, but no flames. A figure came tumbling from the plane. “One more!” she whispered. “Just one more!” The figure that had appeared remained motionless for a space of seconds. Then he leaped forward to re-enter the wreck. “One of them is hurt,” she called to Janet. “Keep circling.” It was true, for soon the single figure appeared once more, this time bearing a limp burden. “Janet,” Mary exclaimed as she resumed control of the plane, “we’re going down!” “This,” said Janet, “is a large plane. Larger than Sparky’s.” “And easier to control. This,” said Mary proudly, “is the Lone Star, the only plane of its kind in the world!” “It’s almost priceless,” Janet agreed. “Yes, and its cargo is really priceless,” Mary might have added, but did not for that was her military secret, hers and Sparky’s. The C.O. had told just that to her before they took off. “I am putting it on your plane,” the C.O. had said, “because your Lone Star is the fastest, strongest, most dependable transport plane we have in our outfit. And I have given the plane to you because other than two pilots that cannot be spared, you are the only one who knows her and can take her safely through.” This, she realized, had been high praise. Hers was a grave responsibility, but Sparky, her good pal, was down there. Was he the one who had been injured? She had no way of knowing. “I’m going down,” she repeated softly. 20 CHAPTER II SAVAGES AND THE NIGHT As the big plane circled, drifting slowly down, Mary leaned over to say in a deep, impressive voice: “Janet, if we crash, and there’s a spark of life in you, get out quick and run, crawl, anything. Get away fast.” “Who wouldn’t?” Janet stared. “If the ship gets on fire the gas tanks will explode and—” “It’s worse than that,” Mary confided. “This ship is mined.” “Mined!” Janet stared. “It certainly is! And by our own people. This is one ship our enemies will never take apart piece by piece, nor its cargo either. In case of a crash, it will be torn to ribbons.” “That—why, that’s terrible,” Janet’s voice was husky. “Not as bad as it seems,” was the slow reply. “Only fire will set off the explosives. Bumping won’t do it. There’s a fuse, too. I know right where it is. No, they’ll never get the Lone Star or her cargo. And there’s nothing they’d like half as much to do. But they won’t get her. Never! Never. “And now,” she breathed. “Here we go!” As her ship glided down, even in this moment when her own fate seemed to hang in the balance, on the walls of Mary’s mind was painted a picture that would not soon be erased. It was as if her first glimpse of a tropical jungle, the waving palms, the slow, rolling black river, the native huts, the sloping hillside all bathed in a beautiful sunset, had been painted there by some great artist. And then her ship’s landing wheels touched the broad, hard-trodden path of the natives. Coming in closer to the natives’ shacks she had avoided the treacherous hillside and suddenly, there she was. Graceful as a plover with wings outspread the Lone Star came to rest. “We made it!” Mary gave vent to a heavy sigh of relief. “But now!” She was up and away in the same breath, for the solving of one difficult problem had only served to bring her closer to another. There had been two men in the bomber when it crashed, Sparky Ames and Don Nelson. One had been injured. Which one? And how badly? She had to know. “I’m going over there!” she exclaimed as she leaped from the plane, at the same time pointing up the hill. “Okay. I’ll watch this plane,” Janet said. “Yes, I think that’s wise. You never can tell.” 21 22 The Lone Star Came to Rest at the Foot of the Hill 23 Mary cast an apprehensive glance at the long row of native houses. “Homes of a hundred people,” she thought. “Perfectly wild natives.” But now nothing stirred there. With long, quick strides she made her way where one man bent over the prostrate form of another. When she was half way there she saw the kneeling man turn his head. Then she knew. “Oh! Sparky!” she exclaimed. “You’re safe!” “Sure! What’d you think?” The tall, strongly built young man with black, kinky hair grinned. “I—I didn’t know.” She was closer now. “It would have been terrible if you had been seriously injured, you know.” Her voice dropped. “Secret cargo!” “Yes, I know.” “But Don!” she exclaimed. “Is he badly injured?” She was standing beside Sparky now. “I can’t tell yet,” was the slow answer. “I have the courage to hope not. He got a bang on the head. That knocked him out. I’ve felt him over pretty carefully. No bones broken is my guess. But he keeps groaning. His hand comes up to his chest. Got a cracked rib or two I shouldn’t wonder.” “That’s bad, isn’t it?” “Bad enough, but it might be worse. Anyway, our plane can never be repaired. Not here it can’t.” “And how will you ever get it out?” “That’s it,” he agreed. “Looks as if we’re stuck—at least, our plane is. Guess we’ll have to go it alone, Mary, just you and I. It’s the way the Chief would want it.” His voice went husky. “That secret cargo must go through at all cost. Those were the orders. How do you feel about that?” “How would you feel about going over the top somewhere in Africa?” she challenged. “I wouldn’t think. I’d just go, same as any other soldier does.” “It’s the same with me now,” she replied soberly. “I—am a soldier, too. Well, perhaps not quite, but I’m serving in a soldier’s plane, a mighty good one, too. Any man in my shoes would have to have had five hundred hours in the air.” “And so where duty calls or danger—” he quoted. “I shall always hope to be there,” she saluted. “But look!” she exclaimed. “Don is trying to sit up. He must not do that!” “No! No! Old man! Not yet!” Once again Sparky was at his comrade’s side gently pushing him down. “Wh—where am I? Who—what happened?” came in thick tones. “You’re here and we’re here. Sparky and Mary,” said Sparky. “Oh! Then it—it’s all right.” The injured man settled back. “I’ll go get some pneumatic pillows,” Mary volunteered. “Yes, and something hot to drink,” Sparky suggested. “That will help a lot.” Mary was away. When Don had fully recovered consciousness and had been made as comfortable as possible, they gathered around him for a council of war. “It’s getting dark,” said Sparky. “In another quarter of an hour it will be darker than a stack of black cats. In this land the dawn comes up like thunder, and the sun blinks out in the same way.” “And there’s no moon,” said Janet. “All of which means we’re here for the night,” said Mary. “Sparky,” her voice seemed a little strained. “What kind of a country is this?” “Good head-hunting country,” Sparky laughed. “No, but really, we’ve got to face facts,” Mary insisted. “Truth is,” said Sparky, “I don’t know about the upper waters of the Amazon, or the people who live here. Do the rest of you?” There came a chorus of “no”s. “All right, then we’ll be prepared for the worst and hope for the best.” “They scattered fast enough when they saw us coming down,” Don volunteered. “That was natural,” said Sparky. “It is also natural to suppose that, in the end, they’ll defend their homes. They may come back in the night. There are two loose machine guns in each plane. The Major had them put there for just such a time as this.” “And for the time when we’ll be over battle zones,” Mary added. “We may be attacked—” “Just now we’re in a jungle, so we’ll limber up the guns,” said Sparky. “How about you ladies fixing up a little chow?” “Sure, oh, sure! We’ll do that!” was the quick response. By the time Sparky had two guns set up in the Lone Star, which he figured might, in the event of an attack in force, be used as a fort, and had dragged the other guns to the spot, a short distance away, which they had chosen as a camp site, darkness had fallen and the girls had coffee brewing over a cheerful fire. “Say! This is great!” Sparky exclaimed. “I’ve always wanted to go camping but never had time!” “Well,” Don drawled, “You’ve got about ten hours now with nothing else to do but camp.” “Unless we’re attacked,” Janet supplemented with a shudder. “Why bring that up?” Mary laughed. “Dinner is about ready to serve. Let’s make it a date.” “A date it is,” Sparky agreed. Their grub box contained a little more than iron rations. Sweet potatoes and sausages each served from a can, big, round white crackers, a square of butter and, aromatic coffee with real sugar and canned cream, made up the bulk of their satisfying meal. Dessert was little wild bananas, and huge, over-ripe grapefruit that were sweet as oranges. These came from the edge of the jungle. “Um,” Janet breathed. “That was really a feast.” 24 25 26 27 28 “Yes, and listen!” Mary exclaimed low, “What was that? Really something different!” A low rolling sound had come drifting in out of the night. “A native drum!” was Sparky’s instant answer. As they listened from farther away came the answer. “Talking drums,” Mary whispered. “I never expected to hear them.” She was hearing them all the same and, coming as they did out of the night with the low murmur of the dark, rushing river as their accompaniment, they sounded weird indeed. Now came a roar close at hand, tom-tom-tom sharp and clear, and now from far away with the booms blended into one long roar. “Night in the jungle,” Mary whispered. “Crawl into your ship and forget it,” Sparky suggested. “We’ll be here in the morning.” “Oh! I never could do that,” Janet exclaimed. “All right,” said Sparky. “Then you girls keep the first watch and I’ll sleep. But first we’ll fix Don up as comfortable as we can.” It was Don whose eyes first closed in slumber. With soft pneumatic cushions under him and a mosquito canopy to protect him and a soothing capsule to allay his pain, he was asleep before the others could arrange for the watches of the night. Just as Sparky crept away to the Lone Star for three winks a bright golden moon came rolling along the fringe of the forest. “Oh! That’s better!” Janet exclaimed. Was it? It was not long before every shadow cast by the moon appeared to move and the darkened grass houses seemed alive with people. “Ghosts,” Mary whispered. “Ghosts of native men and women who lived here long before we were born.” “Be still!” Janet whispered. “I heard a voice. It was somewhere down the river. Listen!” As they listened a voice seemed to ask: “Why? why? why?” “That,” Mary laughed low. “That’s a big, old tree frog. He lives in a pool of green water in a hollow tree, way up high. I read about it once. If you drink the water he lives in you’ll go crazy.” “I think you might,” Janet whispered. “What do you suppose he wants to know with his eternal ‘why’?” “Perhaps he wants to know why we are here, why my father is out somewhere in Africa.” “And why my two brothers are in Australia,” said Janet. “Do you know the answer?” “No,” said Mary. “At least not all the answer. I only know that we must keep on being here, and in Africa, Egypt, Syria, India, China, wherever we’re sent until this terrible war is over and all our loved ones can come home again.” “Yes, that’s right. But, Mary, you know we were volunteers. We didn’t have to join up. And above all, we didn’t have to go on this long, long trip so far from home.” This Mary knew was true. They had, in truth, volunteered twice. Joining the WAFS was purely on a voluntary basis. Once they were in they were expected to ferry planes from place to place in their own country. But a sudden, urgent call had come from China for forty planes, all but two of them bombers. There were not enough men available so volunteers were called from among the women. “All of us volunteered, except those who had children,” Janet said, thinking aloud. “Who wouldn’t? It’s what I’ve always wanted most.” Mary’s voice rose a little. “When Sparky used to come in after a week’s absence and say, ‘Hello, sister, I’m just back from Russia,’ I was burned up with envy. The next week it would be Africa, and after that London, and there we were plowing through the sky to Kansas City, Des Moines or Peoria. And now,” she breathed, “we are on our way to China by way of Africa, India, and all the rest.” “We!” Janet exclaimed. “Do they expect just you and me to fly the Atlantic, alone?” “Why not?” Mary asked, teasingly. “Oh, well—” she added, “Sparky told me tonight that he and I would go on alone.” “Nice going,” Janet’s tone was a trifle cold. “Oh, Janet!” Mary put out a hand. “Don’t look at it that way. There’s something aboard the Lone Star that just has to go through. I wish I could tell you what it is. I can’t because I don’t know. Naturally, it’s better that a man pilot the plane, one who has flown the Atlantic many times. It would be natural, too, that Don should go if he were able, but—” “Oh, sure!” Janet was her old, friendly self again. “I understand. We’ll have to get Don to a hospital somewhere and I’ll stay to see him through.” “Yes, and you may get to China yet, both of you.” “Oh, China,” Janet yawned. “Just now I’d love to find myself on Broadway in little, old New York, with a run to Denver waiting for me in the morning. It’s a funny world, isn’t it?” “It certainly is,” Mary agreed. At one A.M. Sparky climbed down from the Lone Star’s cabin. “Go on up there and sleep,” was his gruff but kindly order. “We’ve got a tough day ahead.” They obeyed. While Janet wrapped herself up in blankets, Mary spread out an eiderdown robe her father had once brought from the far North, and they were soon fast asleep. Three hours later, just as the moon was nearing the crest of the ridge, lying off to the west, Mary crept down from the plane to join Sparky in his vigil. “Don still asleep?” she asked. “Sure is. He’s lucky to be able to sleep.” “Perhaps he’s not so badly injured after all.” “Bad enough,” Sparky sighed. “We’ll have to get him over to the hospital at Para. Then you and I’ll have to hop the little channel that lies between South America and Africa. Your cargo must go through.” 29 30 31 32 “Secret cargo!” she whispered. “Wonder what it could be.” “Some new weapons for destroying Japs perhaps. A new type of sub-machine gun, or just a badly needed medicine for the soldiers up there in Burma. They say it’s plenty bad up there this time of year. Anyway, that secret cargo must go through.” “‘Ours’ not to reason why—‘ours’ but to do and die,” she parodied. “Who knows!” His voice sounded solemn in the stillness of the night. “The enemy has our number. I’ve been looking at my motors. They’ve been tampered with, emery dust in the pistons or something.” “But where could that have happened!” she exclaimed. “Caracas!” “But there were soldiers guarding every plane.” “Soldiers of foreign lands are sometimes traitors. So, too, are mechanics who tune up the motors. We’ll have to be on our guard every moment. This time we were over the land. The next it may be the sea.” “We’ll watch,” she vowed. “Day and night. Night and day.” “But it’s all so strange,” she mused after a time. “Why should there be a sudden demand for so many big planes in China?” “There are rumors of a plan to bomb Tokio.” “Oh! I’d like to be in on that!” “Wouldn’t we all! But it’s just a rumor. I’ve heard that we are to attack Burma from two sides.” “Try to re-capture the Burma Road?” “Yes.” “That would be glorious!” “Then I’ve heard the Japs are going after Russia and that these bombers are for our Russian allies. All these are rumors. We may never know the truth. That’s the way it is in war.” For a time after that nothing but the low rush of the river and the croaking of the ‘Why’ frog disturbed the silence of the jungle. Then, suddenly, Mary whispered: “Listen!” “Singing,” Sparky whispered back after a tense moment. “Natives on the river.” “The moon has gone behind the hills. They’re coming back. The natives are coming.” “Yes, and let them come,” Sparky rattled his sub-machine gun. “If they’re peaceful, things will be all right. If not—” He rattled the gun once more. “This is war. The Lone Star and her secret cargo must go through!” After that for some time they sat there in silence listening to the wild native chant that, with every movement, grew louder. Then, suddenly, the dark waters of the river came all alight. The long canoes had turned a bend of the river. In each canoe were a dozen torches held aloft. Mary counted nine canoes in all. To her heightened imagination each canoe seemed a hundred feet in length. “Do they come like that when they want to fight?” she asked gripping Sparky’s arm hard. “Who knows?” was the brief reply. 33 34