clock. The hands said twenty-seven minutes of four now, and Dave made
noises in his throat once again. He pulled two hockey-game tickets out
of his tunic pocket and looked at them.

"For two cents I'd leave him flat and get somebody else to go with me!"
he muttered. "I should have drawn the bum a map so he could use it to
get over here from Times Square. He--"

He let the rest trail off as he saw Freddy Farmer hurrying toward him
from the direction of the IRT shuttle train to Times Square. He fixed
the English-born air ace with a disgusted eye and watched him approach.
Freddy came up to him all smiles and slightly flushed.

"Waiting for somebody, old thing?" he greeted Dave.

"No!" Dawson snapped. "And my mother taught me never to speak to
strangers. So scram, before I call a cop."

"Speaking of your New York cops," Freddy Farmer chuckled, "I wouldn't be
here now, if it hadn't been for a bobby in the Bronx."

"Bronx?" Dawson exploded. "What the heck were you doing up there? This
morning you said you were going to hear Benny Goodman's band over at the
Paramount Theatre."

"And so I did," Freddy replied with a nod. "And it was absolutely
topping. But--"

"Topping, he says!" Dawson snorted. "You should show your passport when
you use words like that. You mean keen, or in the groove, or on the
beam, or strictly the nuts. But what about the Bronx? Did Goodman lead a
parade?"

"If you'll be so kind as to shut that big mouth of yours, I'll
explain!" Freddy snapped. "After the show I had something to eat, and--"

"As if I couldn't guess _that_!" Dawson grunted. "And so?"

"And so when I came out of the restaurant it was snowing," the English
youth said. "And--"

"Snowing, in _January_?" Dawson mock-gasped and widened his eyes. "Well,
what do you know about that? So you just stood there and watched it
snowing in January, of all times, while I cooled my heels here waiting
for you!"

"Do you want to listen, or would you rather give that tongue of yours
exercise?" Freddy Farmer bit off.

"Okay, okay, but make it good!" Dawson sighed. "I've got two tickets for
the Ranger-Chicago Hawks hockey game tonight. Make your story good, or
somebody else goes with me!"

"What?" Freddy cried. "You've got--Good grief! Now we've got four!"

"Four what?" Dawson demanded. "Or am I supposed to guess?"

"Four tickets to the hockey game," Freddy Farmer said, and produced two
from his own pocket. "I couldn't remember who was to ge