his head that Stan was a Yank, which would have been all right except
that no Yank needed to masquerade as a Canadian to get into the Royal
Air Force. Not a flier like Stan Wilson.

They sank into chairs and waited for the coffee. Tommy hadn't showed up
and they had the mess to themselves. Allison leaned forward.

"I think the old man has something special up his sleeve," he said.
"When he acts tough and gets hard he's about to cook up a messy job.
Want in on it if it comes?" He was grinning at Stan in his most derisive
manner. He might just as well have added, "Of course you won't want in."

"Check me in," Stan said stiffly.

"Fine." Allison leaned back and elevated his legs to the top of the
table. "Fine. I figure the old man is going to give us a one-way
ticket."

"A what?" Stan asked. The way Allison spoke made a chill run up his
spine.

Allison turned his head and looked at Stan. "In the last war when
fighters were sent out as scouts they had to come back to report. In
this man's war they radio back their reports. After that they play tag
with a swarm of Messerschmitt One-Tens."

"I see." Stan could well imagine what sort of tag three Spitfires would
play with a dozen or more ME's. It was just plain suicide stuff. "Ever
been on one?" he asked.

Allison grinned widely. "Once. A cloud, plus eight Brownings and a lot
of fool's luck, brought me back with most of my ship. It beats hitting
the glory trail every night."

"Sounds interesting," Stan agreed as he pulled his steaming cup of
coffee to him and began dropping sugar lumps into it. "I aim to get a
kick out of it."

Allison laughed. "Hanged if I don't believe you will. You'll go if I do
any of the picking."

"And about this Yank business." Stan looked Allison squarely in the eye.
"It isn't international. It isn't a violation of any of the laws of
Britain or any country. It's a personal matter. If you keep on talking
about it you'll lose a flier, that's certain."

"I see," Allison said, but he kept on grinning his superior grin. "I
knew it wasn't anything rotten. Sorry I was nosey. It won't come up
before anyone, Yank." He lifted his cup. "Here's to the glory trail!"

Stan joined him. Tommy came in and sprawled out on a bench with his
feet against the wall. He looked over at Allison and Stan.

"The O.C. says Green Flight is taking over for the rest of the night, so
you birds can go to bed."

"Where are you going?" Allison asked.

Tommy uncoiled