"I would, too, only I can't pass the physical examination for aviator.
They tell me I wouldn't be able to stand the strain!" Ewing laughed
heartily.

Stan wiped salt water out of his eyes and shook his head. He had seen
many rough-riding vehicles of war, such as tanks and jeeps, but the PT
boat had them all bested. Any craft that was such a rough-riding brute
that half of its seasoned crew got sick was no place for him, he assured
himself.

Toward eleven o 'clock Malta came into view, and they put into port
through a mass of ships and flatboats and barges. A sprinkling of
warcraft, including one British warship, filled the channel they were
following. But that did not bother the skipper. He sent his boat in at
planing speed which necessitated a lot of ducking and dodging.

Pulling alongside a dock, the PT boat was made fast. Stan climbed over
the side and set his feet firmly on the ground. He was glad to be off
the deck of the speedy craft. The skipper grinned at him.

"I'll get you a ride to headquarters. Your legs don't seem to be up to
walking that far."

"Thanks," Stan said. "I'd be picked up by the M.P.'s for being drunk if
I tried to walk."

The skipper secured a jeep for Stan from a Navy supply outfit. They
shook hands and the jeep roared away at top speed. Stan leaned back and
took the jolts. They seemed like caresses after the skipper's PT boat.

News of the package he was carrying had come in ahead of Stan. A
lieutenant was waiting for him.

"This way, sir," he said and hurried away with Stan almost running to
keep up.

They entered a room where a dozen officers sat around a big table.
Stan's guide halted and saluted.

"Lieutenant Wilson, sir."

A grizzled general looked up from a map. Stan stepped forward and handed
over the package. The general took it and ripped it open at once. Stan
stood waiting to be dismissed. He started to back away. The general
lifted a hand.

"Don't leave, Wilson. These papers are vitally important." He stopped
talking and spread out the contents of the package. The other officers
were leaning forward. "These are most important, most valuable," the
general said. He shoved the papers over to a colonel.

"Look them over and let me know what you think of them." He turned to
Stan and smiled.

Stan waited for whatever might be coming. The general fingered his
close-cropped mustache and continued to smile. Suddenly he leaned
forward and spoke.

"Since receiving a messa