"Well, I've had my fill!" Freddy gasped. "I can jolly well tell you, I've had my fill."

The two pilots had been tramping across the sand for a little over two hours, and Freddy Farmer had suddenly come to a halt and wiped a bucketful of sand-washed sweat from his face. Dave stopped and looked at him questioningly.

"Fill of what?" he asked. "What do you mean, or is the sun getting you?"

"I said I'd always wanted to see what it was like in the middle of the desert," the English youth replied with a grimace. "Well, I've had a look, and I can tell you I'm fed up with it, no end. How far do you think we'll have to go with this sand walking business, anyway?"

"Oh, not so far!" Dave said in a cheery voice. "Eight or nine hundred miles, I guess. Maybe an even thousand."

Freddy shot him a look of withering scorn.

"Only that far?" he snapped. "I thought it would be at least a couple of thousand miles. If what you say is true, we should be there by sundown, easy. But, no fooling, Dave, I'm done in something awful. I could sit down and rest for a week."

"Me, too, Freddy," Dave agreed. "But if we sit down here on the sand under this sun, we'll be fried to a crisp. Come on, fellow, up and at 'em, huh?"

"Who said anything about sitting down here?" Freddy said indignantly, and pointed. "Look over there. Lots of desert bush, and plenty of shade for both of us. What do you say?"

Dave scowled and looked in the direction of Freddy's pointed hand. He himself was also desperately tired, and he knew that to continue on under the blazing sun would take more out of the two of them than they could spare. Yet some inner force urged him to go on; to keep Freddy moving forward. Why, he had not the slightest idea. There was just some little voice within him that begged, pleaded, and commanded him to keep on moving northward.

"They sure look inviting, Freddy," he said in a weary voice as he eyed the huge clump of thick desert bush about a hundred yards away. "But I've got a hunch that we should keep going."

"You and your hunches!" Freddy groaned. "What difference does half an hour make, I'd like to know? Don't get the idea I'm being a quitter, Dave. Nothing like that, really. Fact is, I'm trying to be sensible. We're not trained for this sort of thing. If we bite off too much at one time, we may pay dearly for our foolishness. Let's rest a bit in the shade of those bushes, such as it is, and then have another go at this blasted tramping."

"Okay," Dave finally relented. "I guess you're right at that. No sense burning ourselves out this early in the game. Okay, we'll—Hold everything, Freddy!"

As Dave shouted the last he put up both hands as a shield for his aching eyes and peered hard toward the northwest.

"What is it, Dave?" Freddy cried eagerly. "What do you see?"

"I don't know," Freddy said slowly. "I'm not sure at all. Take a look in the direction I'm pointing, Freddy. Call it a mile, or so, over there. What do you make of that darkish streak over there? Say! That's a ledge of rock, and covered with desert bushes, or I'm a Chinaman."

Freddy cupped his own hands to his eyes and strained them in that direction.

"You're no Chinaman, Dave!" he cried presently. "That's rock sure enough. Looks like a plateau split right down through the middle, but you can't tell in this blasted sun."

"What do you say we make for it?" Dave said. "If it's what it looks like, it'll give us more shade than those desert bushes over there. And the sun is getting close to high noon in that darn sky up there. In an hour or so your bushes won't be worth a darn. What do you say? Shall we pull up the old socks and try to reach that place, huh?"

Freddy sighed and shrugged resignedly.

"Right you are," he murmured. "But I certainly wish I could learn to say no now and then to your wild propositions. I'd certainly save a lot of wear and tear on myself. Right-o, my little hero. Lead the way. I'm right at your heels. Phew, if these poor blistered feet of mine were only walking the flight deck of the Victory right now. How wonderful, how delicious that would be!"

"Shut up!" Dave growled at him, and started plodding across the seemingly endless expanse of sand. "You'll have me blubbering like a kid in a minute."

A little under an hour later, the two boys had very definitely learned something else about the Libyan desert, or any other desert, for that matter. It was that, when you think some spot is a certain number of miles away from you, you can just multiply your guess by at least six, and the answer will still be less than the actual distance. The glare of the sun, the shimmering heat waves rising up from the sand, plus the flatness of the desert, fool you completely when it comes to judging distances between two points.

"This is sure a long mile!" Freddy broke a five minute silence. "Or have we been walking in circles? My compass says not, but maybe the heat's got it, too."

"You and me both!" Dave groaned, and nodded his head. "It's been looking only a mile away for the last twenty minutes. I'm sorry, Freddy. I guess the desert is a tricky spot. How're you doing? We've got to keep going now, you know. If we stop, we're done for."

Freddy wiped hot hands across his equally hot face. There was not even the comfort of sweating, now. No sooner did a bead of sweat ooze out on their bodies than the heat dried it up. From head to foot every square inch of their skin felt like a piece of bacon in a frying pan that a good housewife forgot all about before she left for the movies. Even though they wore desert sun glasses, their eyes felt as though they were exposed to the direct rays of the brassy ball of fire in the sky. Each step was an effort, for their leg joints seemed sapped of all body lubricants. And every now and then, to add to their torture, a little flurry of wind would spring up as though by magic and hurl a swirling cloud of hot stinging sand directly into their faces. However, each new little discomfort that rose up to torture them only served to feed fuel to the flame of resoluteness and grim determination that burned within them.

"Am I right or wrong, pal?" Dave asked when Freddy did not speak.

"Your turn to shut up!" the English youth grunted. "I'm not quitting until you do, my American friend. Matter of fact, though, I think the blasted spot does seem a bit closer."

"Me, too," Dave cried, and increased the pace. "Come on, Freddy. The old whirlwind finish. Yes, it is closer. I'd say only about—"

"Don't say it!" Freddy begged. "Let's stop guessing and not break our hearts. Let's just walk. What's the matter? Can't you go faster than that?"

Dave grinned happily as the English youth increased his stride and went sailing into the lead. Just like old Freddy Farmer. Groans and gripes a bit, and then before you know it he's making you look like the one who's groaning and griping.

"Tough guy, huh?" Dave chuckled, and drew up on a level with Freddy's shoulder. "Maybe you want to sprint the rest of the way? Well, skip it, pal. This pace is fast enough for me. Boy! Only a couple of minutes more. And look, Freddy! It's like a regular cliff. Two cliffs, with a valley in between. Gosh! What do you know! A canyon cut into this darn flat desert."

"Think again, Dave," Freddy said with a smile. "Better still, turn around and take a look. I did. We've really been walking uphill, to the top of a plateau formation of ground. Those cliffs are the two sides of a crack that time has made in the plateau formation of ground. Just as unexplainable as why you suddenly come across an oasis with water and palm trees in the middle of a barren desert."

At Freddy's suggestion Dave turned around and looked back in the direction whence they had come. It was then he realized the truth of the English youth's words. Instead of standing on a flat, almost shapeless desert, they were actually standing near the crest of a long sloping hill. True, the slope was marked by countless sand dunes kicked up by the desert winds, but it was still easy to see that they were a good couple of hundred feet higher than they had been when they'd started out. To make sure it all wasn't just a trick his eyes and the desert sun were playing on him, he turned front again and looked at the brownish slash that marked the split in the plateau and formed the escarpment. The brownish slash in the desert was the highest piece of ground before his eyes. Beyond, he could see only Libyan sky and the brassy glare of the sun. That was so because he was actually looking uphill.

"Well, what do you know!" he exclaimed, and grinned at Freddy. "No wonder my legs feel ready to drop off. We've been plowing uphill and didn't know it."

"The desert is full of tricks," the English youth said with a shrug. "And all of them mean ones, too. Well, let's get on with it. Won't be long now."

It turned out to be longer than that, however. Another twenty minutes passed by into time history before they reached the top of the escarpment and stood looking down its side. The canyon was about seventy-five yards long, perhaps thirty-five feet deep, and a hundred feet wide at the top. The two sides were formed of jagged rock with treacherous spots of crumpling sand-stone here and there. There was plenty of brush and shrubbery about, however, and it was thick enough to cast patches of shade regardless of the burning rays of the sun. One point struck them at once as being an ideal spot where they could relax and rest until the sun was deep in the west, and the cooling winds of night were beginning to steal across the desert. It was to their left and about halfway down. A shelf of rock jutted outward a bit. As a matter of fact, it was really two shelves of rock that jutted out. The bottom one served as a platform upon which to rest. And the top shelf, rimmed with thick desert bush, served as a roof, a sort of canopy for the shelf lower down. Fortunately the side of the escarpment was not too steep to make it impossible for them to reach the lower shelf.

"That's us, Freddy!" Dave exclaimed, and pointed to it. "We'll get down there and be cliff dwellers until it's cool enough to start getting underway again. I vote that we get down there pronto, and have a bit to eat and a little water. That's our biggest danger—water. We must save every drop we can. Who knows when—"

Dave stopped short, and a horrified look leaped into his eyes. He pointed his finger at Freddy and worked his mouth, but no words came from his lips. The English youth stared at him and impulsively recoiled a step in surprise and amazement.

"Dave, what's the matter?" he gasped out. "Dave! Come out of it! What in the world?"

Dave gulped and shook his head as though to snap himself out of his stunned trance.

"Your water bottle, Freddy!" he blurted out. "Look! It's leaking! The canvas cover is dripping wet at the bottom. When did you do that?"

The English youth didn't bother to reply. He reached down and took hold of the canvas-covered water canteen slung at his belt. The bottom half was dripping wet, though the burning rays of the sun were doing their best to drink up every drop of moisture. As Freddy tilted it bottom side up, both boys saw the tiny slash in the canvas covering and the even smaller crack in the metal underneath.

"I can tell by the weight," Freddy said in a tight, strained voice. "There's no more than a cupful left. Talk about luck! Blast it!"

Dave nodded and said nothing. There was no mystery as to how the canvas had been slashed and the metal canteen split so that the precious water had seeped out a drop at a time as Freddy plodded across the sands. It was obvious that a made-in-Germany bullet, or a made-in-Italy bullet had done the work. A stray bullet, a bullet in a thousand during that air scrap had cut through into the Skua's cockpit and nicked the bottom of Freddy's water canteen. It had creased the metal, but not enough to leave an opening through which the water could escape. No, it hadn't cut all the way through, but later the bumping of the canteen against Freddy's leg as he trudged across the sand had caused the paper thin layer of metal left to part and crack and allow the water to seep through.

"Blast the Jerry or Muzzy gunner who did that!" Freddy grated through clenched teeth.

"I'm hoping it was one of them we got!" Dave grunted. "Well, my water canteen's still okay. We'll just have to go extra easy with the drinking. It's not your fault, anyway. Let's forget it and get down there. I'm beginning to feel more like a grease spot every second. We'll split what's in your canteen for our first drink, and then take turns at mine, later. Come on. And hold that canteen bottom side up as you climb down."

"Have no fear of that!" the English youth said grimly. "It would have to be my water canteen, wouldn't it! It couldn't be my leg, or an arm, or maybe my neck."

Dave laughed and slapped him on the back.

"Chin and thumbs up, pal!" he cried. "Forget it! We'll just make believe we're a couple of camels. They go for days without water, you know."

"Oh, quite!" Freddy grunted. "But who wants to be a blinking camel? However, right you are. Let's get out of this sun, anyway."

Ten minutes later the two boys had safely reached the shelter of the lower ledge of rock. It wasn't cool and comfortable, by any manner of means. As a matter of fact, it was something like squatting down on the top of a stove that hasn't been out for very long. Regardless of that, however, it was like an icebox compared to the direct rays of the blistering sun above, and the blistering heat of the shifting sands beneath their feet.

"Boy, oh boy!" Dave sighed wearily. "The first thing I'm going to do is get off these shoes. What I wouldn't give for the Kind Fairy to wave her magic wand and create a nice, cool babbling brook to dip these dogs in. Gosh! I—"

"Hold still, Dave!" Freddy suddenly cried. "Hold still! Don't move a muscle!"

Dave, in the act of putting his hands in back of him to serve as a brace while he arched his body backwards, froze motionless and look wild-eyed at Freddy.

"What's the matter?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

Freddy didn't reply. He simply shook his head, and picked up one of his shoes he had taken off. He gripped it by the toe and leaned slowly around in back of Dave. Then in a sudden movement he cracked the heel of the shoe down on the rock with a resounding smack.

"There!" he breathed, straightening up. "That takes care of that little beggar."

"Hey, what gives, anyway?" Dave gulped and frowned. "You playing games or something?"

"Hardly!" Freddy said dryly. "I was simply saving you a lot of pain, and perhaps something worse than that. Take a look."

Dave twisted around, half expecting to see a squad of Nazi soldiers crouching behind him. What he really saw was the mashed body of a three-inch long lizzard-like creature. It looked like a cross between a lizzard and a grasshopper, and there was a suggestion of a lobster about it, too. The body was long and tapering, like that of a lizzard. At the head two tiny horns with lobster-like claws at the end stuck out in front. And there were four long legs on either side of the body.

"Gosh, what's that?" he asked. "Some kind of a desert bug?"

"The worst you can meet in the desert," Freddy replied. "It's a scorpion. See that barbed point that forms the end of his tail? That's his stinger. You can see it's sort of hook shaped. Well, he strikes with it by whipping it up over his back. Five minutes after a scorpion stings you, you're in horrible pain, and your whole body begins to swell up. It can easily be fatal unless you get medical attention at once. You were about to put your hand right down on top of it, my friend."

Dave's face paled, and he shuddered violently.

"Gee!" he breathed in an awed tone. "Gee whiz! Remind me to remember you in my will, Freddy. Gosh! The enemy is just a small part of what you have to fight in desert warfare, I'll say. Boy, oh boy, Freddy, you're my pal for life, and no fooling. Wow."

"I was just lucky enough to spot it in time," Freddy said. Then, getting to his feet, "I think, though, we'd better search this place to see if it has any brothers or sister hanging around. In case I do fall asleep, I'd hate to wake up with one of the beggars sitting on my nose."

"Sleep?" echoed Dave, as they started searching the shelf of rock, and gripped a shoe ready for action. "I won't do any sleeping. After that close call I'll have the jitters for a week."

Freddy just grinned and said nothing. The search took about fifteen minutes, but no brother or sister scorpions were found lurking about ready to avenge a death in the family. So presently they relaxed again, ate some of their emergency rations, and each drank half of the water left in Freddy's bullet-creased canteen.

"Well, that sure helped," Dave said, leaning back against the shelf wall. "I'm beginning to feel like a new man already. Now, if that sun will only slide into high gear and get across that sky, everything will be jake."

"Don't hurry the sun," Freddy murmured, and stretched out. "I'm perfectly comfortable right here. It can take as long as it likes. But it's a bit of a mess, isn't it, Dave? We sure let the Victory down."

"Yeah," Dave grunted, and felt his eyelids growing strangely heavy. "We sure turned out to be just a couple of foul balls. But we're not licked yet. We've got our strength, something to eat, and some water. Maybe when it gets a bit—gets a bit—a bit cooler—"