true course, even if they could plot
one. And so there was but one thing to do. They at least could tell the
direction of south. And somewhere south of them was New Guinea with the
Yank-held base at Port Morseby. So south it had to be, and in no other
direction.

"Blast their good shooting!" Dave heard Freddy's voice close behind him,
and knew that the English youth was looking at what had happened to the
compass. "Well, south it is then, Dave. It'll be dark in no time, now.
And at least we can tell true south from the stars. But, after all,
we're blasted lucky. So I guess we can't kick much, what?"

Dawson nodded, and dragged air into his lungs. The pain of it caused him
to wince slightly, silently. But he managed to speak the words.

"Go south, I always say," he grunted. "But keep the old fingers crossed,
Freddy. And don't forget the praying, either. We haven't got the Japs to
worry about any more, thank God. But we have got an awful lot of ocean
to consider. And--yeah--a plane that maybe won't quite make it.

"Rot, Dave!" Freddy snapped at him. "You're talking like an old woman.
Come off it. We'll make it, you'll see. Blast it, Dave, we've just got
to!"

"Check, kid, check!" Dawson mumbled. "We've just got to make it, and
how!"

And with a half-nod for emphasis he unconsciously put his free hand to
his throbbing chest.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

_Flight's End_

Darkness, and more darkness, and even more darkness. Constantly,
forever, and eternally. And with it all the monotonous, nerve-pounding
drone of the engine in the nose of the Mitsubishi. Ten million times it
was all Dawson could do to refrain from screaming his head off, and
diving right out of the plane into the black night air. It was the same
minute after minute, and hour after hour. It was almost more than
Dawson, in his condition, could bear. And as the night dragged on and
on, tiny little fears began to mount up in the Yank air ace.

It had been but a few minutes after the three to one air scrap when the
Southwest Pacific night had arrived with a swoop and a rush, and closed
in on all sides. However, as though the gods were favoring those two
youths a little, there were no clouds in the night sky. Above and
stretching far off to all the horizons was a solid canopy of glittering
and winking stars. And so it had been but a simple matter to plot a
course south by the stars, allowing for a slight correction either way.

And so they had headed s