seemed scared. "Drag him back and tuck him away with the guards," Stan ordered. O'Malley and Allison dragged the copilot back and crowded him into the narrow rear compartment with the others. Allison stood guard over them, while O'Malley and Stan took over from the pilot. The pilot was not afraid of the Yanks. He did signals of distress with his wings and put the ship into a dive before Stan laid him out with a rap over the head. Sliding into the seat Stan began to fight the old Fiat to get her out of a spin. She was going down, twisting and shuddering in every rivet and stay. O'Malley finally climbed up front and grabbed the free set of controls. They heaved her out of her spin just in time. Their wings fanned the tops of a grove of trees and they had to lay over to miss the spire of a church."I can handle her now," Stan called across. "I'll go up a bit and then you get back there and have the Italians bail out. We won't need any prisoners. If they kick about it, tell them we'll be setting this ship down on a Malta air strip. That ought to make them bail out." Stan grinned at O'Malley. "Sure, an' it ought to," O'Malley agreed. "No Fiat iver got to land on Malta under her own power. We'll be shot to kindlin' wood." "Maybe we won't go to Malta, but that's where we're headed until they bail out," Stan laughed. O'Malley went back and within a few minutes the Italian crew was unloading. O'Malley had convinced them the plane was headed for Malta and they wanted none of the reception they knew an Italian plane would get over that base. Stan watched them sail down, one after another. As the last parachute blossomed out, Allison and O'Malley crowded forward. Stan had swung due south, and was holding that course. "Suppose you see what you can do with the radio," Stan said. Allison laughed. "There isn't any radio and there isn't a gun aboard this ship, except our two pistols." "Fine," Stan said and opened the old Fiat up a bit more. "In that case we better get in before dark." "You better be after rememberin' that I'm commander o' this outfit," O'Malley broke in. "All right, Commander, the ship is yours." Stan eased over a bit. With a grin O'Malley squeezed into the pilot's seat. "Now you can be after givin' the orders," he said. "Where in blazes are we?" "We're over Italy," Stan said. "I think the town we just flew over was Cosenza, up the coast from Reggio." "Do you be after thinkin' that's water ahead?" O'Malley asked. They looked ahead and saw a strip of water and a long beach. Stan frowned. "Must be the Gulf of Taranto. I guess I'm a bit mixed up." "I say, old man, we better swing around and head southwest," Allison said. "We could fly to Africa," O'Malley remarked. "Not on our gas supply. The Italians must be short of gas. They certainly didn't fill 

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