Dave Dawson at Casablanca

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  _Eagles Can Take It_

  A death-like stillness was everywhere. In that total absence of sound,Dawson was aware of a throbbing, pounding pain in his head that made himfeel as though somebody were chopping it apart. Silence, darkness, andsomebody chopping his head to pieces. These three things Dawson'ssluggish brain could grasp, or at least grasp for a moment at a time.All else, though, was just a great big blank. He didn't know where hewas, or what had happened. He scarcely remembered who he was.

  Suddenly a prickly pain all over his face seemed to speed up thefunctioning of his brain. That, and the dull realization that he couldbarely breathe because something was clamped hard against his nose andmouth. Realization, yes; but there was not yet enough strength in hisbody to do anything about it. For that matter, he felt as if he had nobody. He was aware of nothing but the pain in his head. Maybe his bodywas gone, and only his head was living on. Did such things happen? Wasit possible for--

  "Dave! Dave, old man! Oh--_Dave_!"

  Sound? Yes, that was the sound of a voice! But whose voice? Davecouldn't see anything because of the darkness, shattered every now andthen by pin-points of glittering light, like falling stars in the nightheavens. He--The thought dribbled away as a sense feeling returned tohis "absent" body. He suddenly realized that he was being picked up, orrolled over on his back. The prickly pain left his face at once. In thenext instant he knew that his eyes were open, because he was consciousof many shadows. The shadows moved, but no objects were clearlyoutlined.

  "Dave! Dave, old thing! Can you hear me?"

  An arm was about his shoulders, and a hand was brushing his face. Thebrushing seemed to remove every trace of the prickly pain. It alsoseemed to cause the shadows to stop moving and gradually take on shapeand outline. He know he was looking at treetops outlined against a palegrey sky that grew darker and darker as he looked at it. A head cameinto view. He saw wide, fear-filled eyes and lips that moved but made nosound, save dry sobs. Suddenly, as though a button had been pressedinside his head, his sluggish brain started to speed up, and in a flashcomplete consciousness returned. Memory too, came flooding back likewaters pouring through a broken dam.

  "Freddy!" he heard himself gasp. "You--you okay, Freddy?"

  The arm about his shoulders tightened, and Freddy's choking voiceanswered, "Thank goodness, Dave! I thought--I could hardly feel yourheart beat. You can thank God for your helmet, and I for mine, too. Ourheads would have been caved in but for them. No, Dave! Don't try to situp. You got it worse than I, or maybe my head is harder."

  "I'll feel better sitting up, Freddy," Dawson mumbled, and sat up inspite of Farmer's plea for him to lie still.

  For the first couple of seconds, though, it didn't help at all. Thethrobbing pain doubled in intensity, and he thought his head was goingto fly off his shoulders. After the first couple of seconds thethrobbing pain died down, and he could feel new strength surging throughhis body. It was then that he took a good look at Freddy Farmer, let outa little startled cry, and impulsively reached out a hand.

  "Jeepers, Freddy!" he gasped. "You look like you've been through a meatgrinder, and--Holy smokes! Look at me, will you? I look even worse. Mytunic's in ribbons, and--"

  Dawson stopped talking and stared wide-eyed at young Farmer. TheEnglish-born air ace returned his look and nodded slowly as he wet hislips with his tongue.

  "Quite, Dave," he said in a strained voice. "Some dirty beggar choppedus down and searched us from head to foot for something he _didn't_find."

  An icy chill swept through Dawson, and he swallowed hard. It was asecond or two before he could speak.

  "Those sealed envelopes, I bet!" he whispered. "We got rid of them justin time. But, my gosh, Freddy! Who--"

  Dawson let the thought go unspoken because it seemed so utterlyincredible.

  "Yes, who?" Freddy Farmer echoed, and gave a little shrug of hisshoulders. "Somebody, that's certain. Gosh, he came close to killing us.When I came to and saw you with your ripped tunic pulled up over yourhead and your face pushed down into the dirt, I thought sure you were agoner. Look, Dave, take off your helmet, if it doesn't hurt too much. Iwant to see if it's more than just a bump. If your scalp's been cut, Ican patch it from this pocket Red Cross kit I carry."

  But Dawson had already explored under his helmet with very gentlefingertips. He had two bumps side by side, not over an inch above apoint where two such blows would undoubtedly have paralyzed him forlife, if not killed him instantly. As it was, there were just the twobumps and no wet or caked blood.

  "Just bumps, Freddy," he said, and forced a chuckle. "A couple of pips,but you know me, Old Iron Head. How about you, though?"

  "I'm lucky," Freddy said, and tried to match Dawson's forced gaiety."Just one lump, but I'm sure the old noggin will ache for months. We'dbetter bear this in mind, Dave. We can't stand another of theseattacks."

  "Says which?" Dawson mumbled.

  "We couldn't possibly be that lucky twice," the English youth explained."Blast this whole business, though! I don't like things I don'tunderstand. I definitely don't!"

  Dave Dawson didn't make any comment on that. He got slowly to his feet,steeled himself while a dizziness swept through his head, and then begana methodical search of his uniform pockets. Watching him, Freddy Farmerwaited until he had inspected their contents and had put them back.

  "Anything missing, Dave?" he asked.

  "Nothing, not even my money," Dawson replied with a note of grimness inhis voice. "So that proves it. Proves it wasn't a stick-up and plainrobbery. That we're both still alive and more or less kicking provesmurder wasn't the big idea, either. They were after something that wedidn't have any more. And--Sweet tripe, Freddy! That was over a coupleof hours ago. Look at the time, will you?"

  As Dawson spoke he thrust out his wrist watch. Ferry Farmer didn'tglance at the radium-painted dial. He simply nodded.

  "I know," he said. "I didn't enjoy our little nap at all. If you reallydo feel up to it, Dave, what say we get on along back, what? MajorParker may be wondering about us."

  "Yeah," Dawson said, and stopped short. "Major Parker, Freddy?" he saidafter a long pause. "He knows that code of the colonel's. He deliveredthat message to us, but swears he read only the signature. And he is theonly one, outside of those two Air Transport Command pilots, that we'vespoken to here. But heck! I'm just plain nuts. It just couldn't be!"

  "And I don't think it is, Dave," Freddy Farmer murmured. "I'd bet mylife it wasn't Major Parker. He--Half a minute, Dave! Here comessomebody along the path! I can see two flashlights!"

  "Me, too!" Dawson answered quickly. "I can--" He stopped as the silenceof night was suddenly broken with a loud hail.

  "Hello-o-o-o-o! Dawson and Farmer! Where are you? Hello-o-o-o! Dawsonand Farmer-r-r-r!"

  "That's Parker!" Dawson cried. "Out looking for us. Let's go, Freddy!"

  Dawson took a couple of steps, then stopped and cupped his two hands tohis mouth.

  "Hello-o-o there, Major!" he bellowed. "We're coming!"

  As his call died away, he could tell by the movement of the beams oflight far back along the path that whoever held the flashlights wascoming on the run. He and Freddy walked toward the approaching lights,and after a couple of minutes one of them was playing over him at closequarters. Major Parker's dumbfounded comments were splitting the nightair.

  "Good grief, what happened to you two? I waited mess for you, but whenyou didn't show up I got worried for fear you'd got lost. Somebody saidthey saw you heading up this path, so we came after you. Good grief!What happened? Are you badly hurt?"

  By "we," Major Parker meant himself and one of the field pilots, who wascarrying the other flashlight. On impulse Dawson gave the man, whosename was Tracey, a searching look, but he saw only bewildered amazementand sympathy in the sun-and-wind bronzed face.

  "We don't exactly know, sir," Dawson answered the major. "We wereheading back to the base when suddenly the lights went out. Somebodyjumped us from the sugar
cane. When we woke up, we were as you see us,but nothing was missing."

  "Nothing?" Major Parker asked sharply.

  "Not a darn thing, sir!" Dawson replied truthfully. "I don't get it.And I don't like it, either. Thanks, though, for coming after us."

  Major Parker dismissed the last with a wave of his hand, and opened hismouth as though to say something important. He seemed to change his mindas he shot a quick glance at Tracey, because he gave a little shrug andremarked, "Well, standing around here isn't helping anything. I'd betterget you two back so you can clean up. We've got some spare uniforms, andit won't be hard to find your fit. Slugged, and not a thing missing,huh? Well, that's a new one on me. Okay, let's get back--if you tworeally aren't hurt badly?"

  "Just a bump or two, sir," Dawson assured him. "Nothing to write homeabout, at all."

  "Quite," Freddy Farmer murmured. "Received worse than this in a crash ortwo. We're quite all right, sir."

  Major Parker paused, scowled, and shot them both a keen, searching look.He said nothing, though; he just shrugged, turned around, and startedleading the way back along the path that skirted the sugar caneplantation.