The moving dot silhouetted against the bleak, cheerless-looking sky grew bigger and bigger. Presently it ceased to be just a moving dot. It took on the definite shape and outline of a German Messerschmitt One-Ten. Dave watched it a moment longer, and then when the Nazi craft suddenly veered off to the west, and went streaking upward toward a brooding bank of clouds, he took a quick glance at Freddy Farmer flying just off his right wing, and started to snap out a short burst from his guns.

There was no need, however, to attract the English youth's attention. Freddy had already spotted the Nazi plane. In fact, he was pulling his own ship around and up in that direction. Dave grinned, tight-lipped, and hauled his own plane around in Freddy's wake.

"Leave it to you, Eagle Eyes, to spot things before I do," he murmured with a chuckle. "Okay, pal. That's our baby. This is our dish. He thinks he's learned things, and is hurrying home to tell Uncle Goering about it. Well, not today, hey, Freddy?"