fingers closed over it and began
to turn it. Then his right arm shot out. His fingers gripped Domber's
yellow tie. The Dutch Quisling's eyes bulged and he pulled back.

In that instant the Allison surged into full, smooth power. Stan kicked
down on one brake and snapped her around. Like a falcon launching out
from a limb, the Mustang shot toward the opening ahead. Stan held Domber
over the edge of the open hatch until the ship was out in the sunshine,
then he gave the little Quisling a shove.

Hoiking the tail of the Mustang, he hopped her suddenly. It was a trick
he had depended upon to save him from the guns. As she shot upward he
saw flame and fire rip the runway. The blast was so close to his belly
that it sheared away most of the landing gear. Stan banked and dropped
back down toward the roofs of the city. As he laid over he saw the
withering fire on the runway lift. Amid the ripped up slabs of cement he
saw a man lying sprawled on his face. He was half covered by a slab of
concrete.

"One for the Dutch patriots," Stan said grimly.

As he roared over the rooftops, Stan leaned back and laughed. He would
have to fly low because the high-level dual supercharger was not
working. All he had done was adjust the regular carburization system.
He had not taken chances on his work on the high-altitude machinery.

There were no Nazi planes in the air. There had been no alert. Stan was
sure there would be no attack until he reached Rotterdam. Using the
tactics of the Rhubarb Raiders he flew low over the tile roofs and the
windmills.

In a surprisingly short time, the Mustang broke out over Rotterdam and
Stan straightened his course. His compass was out, the gyro-horizon had
been removed and both clocks were stopped. The radio had been stripped
out of the ship along with every other instrument not absolutely
necessary to test flight. Domber had only wanted to learn about the
supercharger. His egotism in believing everyone else was dull-witted
compared to himself had saved Stan.

Over the estuary of the Rhine River Stan met his first flak. A startled
battery opened up as he flipped over so low down he could see the
buttons on the artillery men's uniforms. The firing was wild, but it
roused gunners out on the Hook of Holland. There the Jerries did some
closer shooting. But Stan was dusting the concrete emplacements and the
gunners did not get their hearts into the job. Stan flipped up over blue
water with a grin on his f