ver, in and out. Grimly Stan watched. Night
fighters had tackled O'Malley. He watched the battle, following the
action by the tracers and the bursts of cannonfire. Suddenly one of the
planes broke into flame. Like a torch it twisted earthward.

"Could have been a Messerschmitt," Arno spoke close beside Stan.

"It burned up like a plywood job," Allison's voice said. He spoke in his
usual unruffled drawl.

"O'Malley never would run from a fight," Stan said grimly.

"This time I think he ran," Tony cut in.

Allison laughed. "You just don't know O'Malley, old man."

"No matter what happened to O'Malley we have to get going. Lead on,
Arno," Stan ordered. There was no use in going sour over what might be a
tough battle. They had plenty of work to do.

Arno led the way out of the wheat field. He located a thick woods and
they entered it. A few minutes of walking through tangled bushes brought
them out on a pathway.

"This is the trail to the orchard," Arno whispered to Tony.

"There is another trail branching off, the one we used to follow when we
went swimming in the little lake below the hill," Tony said.

"That one we must find," Arno answered as he moved on.

The boys had their packs swung high on their backs. Their tommy-guns
were held ready. If the night fighters who had jumped O'Malley had
spotted the parachutes they would have given an alarm. Arno seemed to be
thinking about this. He moved carefully, pausing to listen every few
yards.

Tony was bringing up the rear. He called softly to Arno. "Here is the
trail, you passed it."

They halted and went back. Arno checked the cross trail.

"Yes, this is the trail," he said.

He headed off to the right and they followed. Coming to the top of a
little hill they saw lights below, dim and shaded lights, but many of
them.

"That is the house," Arno said.

"How far is it?" Stan asked.

"About a kilometer," Arno answered.

"Less than a mile to go. What's in between?" Stan asked.

"There is a settlement where the Sachetti farm workers used to live. I
see lights down there." Arno was bending forward, peering into the
night.

"And I hear cars and trucks," Allison added. "I'll bet the Germans have
a repair depot or an assembly point down there."

"In that case the half mile between the settlement and the house will be
filled with Germans," Tony said.

"One way to find out. Lead on," Stan ordered.

The little group moved slowly down the trail. After a cou