ews from the
window frame. He clasped both hands above his head and shook them
vigorously. His lips moved, and Dave just barely heard the words.

"Well done!"

Dave returned the grin and then twisted around front. The dash
instruments, of course, were all marked in German, but he knew enough of
that language to read them. The altimeter needle was quivering close to
the six thousand foot mark. He decided that was high enough and leveled
off the climb onto even keel. Then he took a moment or so to glance down
at the ground below to try and get his bearings. The first thing he saw
was a small village off to his left. One look at it and his heart leaped
over in his chest. He saw the hill and the single main street along
which trucks and armored cars and motorized units of artillery were
passing in a steady, endless stream. The town of Estalle? It seemed to
be almost directly under him. The truth made him shiver and lick his
lower lip.

If that was Estalle and he was positive it was, he and Freddy couldn't
have traveled more than eight or nine miles toward the north during
their wild flight last night. Maybe twice that number of miles going
around in circles, but certainly not more than ten miles in the
direction they wanted to go.

A rap on his shoulder turned him around in the seat. Freddy was pointing
at the village of Estalle and pursing his lips in a silent whistle. Dave
got the idea and nodded, and wiped make believe sweat from his forehead
with his free hand. Then he turned front and glanced at the sun in an
effort to decide which direction was due west. Of course there was a
compass on the instrument panel but something was obviously wrong with
it. The needle was spinning around the balanced card dial.

That fact didn't worry him in the slightest, though. He remembered a tip
a First World War flying ace had once given him about finding your
direction in Europe when you were lost and your compass was out of
whack. It was very simple, too. In the morning, if you could see the
sun, all you had to do was keep the sun on your tail and you would be
sure to be flying west. And so Dave applied the rudder until the sun
was mostly on his tail, and gave his attention to the spread of ground
ahead.

What he saw made him suck air sharply into his lungs. Rather, it was a
case of what he didn't see. The entire western horizon seemed to be one
huge cloud of dirty grey smoke streaked here and there with tongues of
livid red a