d forgotten the sky. A returning flight of
twenty Messerschmitts had spotted the Italian planes.

The Me pilots evidently had received orders not to let any Italian
planes escape to join the Allies. They were coming in low for a landing
and that gave the Yanks a break. But there were twenty of them, and they
were faster and more heavily armed than the Nardi ships.

Stan held his course steadily, while he tried to coax a few more revs
out of his motor. He was doing three-forty and could get no more.
Glancing up he saw that by quick thinking O'Malley and Allison had
gotten the edge on the Jerries. They were up above and getting set to
come down to cover his retreat.

Grimly Stan gave his attention to his course. He was hedge-hopping over
trees and power lines. Never in his life had he seen so many power
lines. By staying down he made it tough for a diving enemy. But these
Jerries were veteran fliers. They had learned a few things about rhubarb
raiders and how to handle them from the many raids staged out of England
upon the low countries. Three of them fanned out each way, right and
left, and came zooming around in a circle like coyotes bent upon cutting
off the retreat of a jack rabbit.

Stan watched them as they went into their circle and saw that even in
making such a maneuver they could outfly his ship. He held his course
and a tight smile formed on his lips. Everything depended upon his
timing. If he handled the thing right and guessed right, he would dodge
the cross fire of the six killers.

The Me's came in in pretty formation, three to a side, staggered so as
to lay down a terrible and enclosing wall of death. Stan's hands were
cold upon the controls, but they were steady. His eyes took in all the
attackers in one moving picture. He was waiting for a tip that would
give him the break he needed. He had given up hope that O'Malley or
Allison would be able to break through and crack the deathtrap. Fourteen
Me's were savagely attacking them, bent upon their destruction.

The Jerries gave Stan his break just before they went into the final act
of the kill. They thought they were trapping an Italian pilot and they
knew just how the Italian boys flew. One of the planes on the left
lifted a little to clear the zoom of the Me under him. That was all Stan
needed to know. The three Jerries on the left would go up, slamming lead
across his path. Two of the Me's on the right would go down and one
would come in straight.