grimly.

"I'll see that the score keeps even," Allison said and savage lights flickered hot in his eyes.

The mess corporal appeared with a private at his heels. "We have some very fine waffles," he said.[Pg 21]

[Pg 21]

"Bring me black coffee," Stan growled.

"And waffles?"

"Sure, sure."

The corporal turned away. It worried him that his fliers were so temperamental they didn't eat enough of his food.

Allison shoved aside his cold coffee. "We have a new man coming in. He ought to be here any minute now."

Ten minutes later a tall man entered the mess. He stood looking around, then spoke to one of the privates. The soldier nodded toward Allison, and the tall youngster headed across the room.

"Here he comes," Allison muttered sourly.

Stan saw a black-haired, hawk-faced young man of perhaps twenty. The new flier had a big mouth that was pulled into a loose frown as his dark eyes stabbed about the room, pausing to rest for a moment upon each face. He walked with a swagger and his uniform was neatly creased. At first glance Stan didn't think much of him.

"Hello," he greeted Allison. "Are you Flight Lieutenant Allison?"

"Sure. Sit down and have something."

"I'm Arch Garret. The O.C. sent me over[Pg 22] to plug a hole in Red Flight. I'll take care of you boys." He glanced at Allison's sloppy uniform and then at Stan's, which was little better.

[Pg 22]

"That's nice of you, old man," Allison said in a soft drawl.

Then Arch Garret began to tell how good he was, and how many Messerschmitt One-Tens he had knocked off in coast combat. He spoke loudly so that all in the room could hear. After listening for a few minutes, Allison yawned and got to his feet. Without a word he walked away.

Stan was 

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