g appeared before his eyes again, then the blurring,
and a moment later clear vision. Stan whistled softly.

"Some ship!" he muttered. "She makes anything I ever flew except the
old Lightnings look slow."

Three Messerschmitts knifed down from a cloud, but the Mosquito was on
her way under full throttle and leaving the toe of the Italian boot at a
space-devouring pace. The Me pilots saw what they had picked up and slid
off in disgust.

The Mosquito went up so fast that Stan could not see the results of his
attack upon the train. Heading east he caught sight of the bay of
Taranto, then turned north. Flying on the east rim of a mountain ridge
he bored along.

Checking the miles off as best he could, Stan turned west when he
thought he was opposite Naples. He zoomed up higher and higher until he
spotted the city on the coast, then he eased around and ducked back and
up into a layer of clouds. Darkness had not settled, but he figured he
could slide in back of the ridge above the Bolero villa and spot the
hidden landing strip.

Easing down he clipped along the tops of the trees. Three Focke-Wulf 190
fighters spotted him and he made off, leaving them to wander above the
hill country. Returning, he zoomed along the ridge. Back and forth he
slid but failed to locate the strip. Again he was spotted and had to run
for it. The next time he came back he flew along the top of the ridge,
which caused no less than a dozen Jerry fighters to take after him. But
he spotted the hidden strip before he made off.

Dusk was beginning to settle when he came back. This time he had to land
regardless of the fighter planes. He came in straight for the strip,
flying so low he was below the trees in many spots. He was surprised to
find that there was a natural avenue which allowed him to slide in under
fair cover. The Bolero boys had selected their secret field well. One Me
darted over to have a look, but did not dive down. Stan set himself and
cut his engines. He was coming in now, either for a landing or a crash.
Topping a row of small trees he let the Mosquito settle toward the
grassy lane below.

The wheels of the ship tipped the grass, then settled down solidly. Stan
applied his brakes and eased into a smooth and even landing. As he
rolled in, he spotted the big trees with overhanging branches where the
Nardi fighters had been parked. Gunning the Mosquito a bit he slid
under cover just as three Me's roared past looking for him. They we