tied him fast. “Tomorrow,” he said aloud, “they will shoot you at dawn—the firing squad, you know.”

The Jap’s eyes rolled as a low hiss escaped his lips.

After that Sparky went about the business of repairing the disabled engine.

And all the time Mary at the controls was growing more and more uneasy at his prolonged absence. Little wonder for, out there on the horizon, there were movements, like that about a beehive when the bees begin to swarm.

They were a long way off, but an ever-increasing threat for all that.

Now there was one, now two, now three, and now five airplanes. Like a small flock of birds they flocked toward the sky, then all went swooping down again.

“Rehearsing for trouble,” she breathed. “I wish Sparky would come back.”

What was to be done? Trouble soared in the distant air. She feared the worst for Sparky yet had no means of communication with him and could not for a single instant leave the controls.

Despair had begun to grip her heart when there came a series of bumps behind her and there stood Sparky.

“Sparky!” she exclaimed, “You look terrible! There’s blood on your face, blood, soot and grease. What happened?”

“You were right.” He leaned heavily on the back of the seat. “There was a man back there, a little rat of a Jap.”

“I knew it. I saw him back there at that oasis,” she exclaimed. “There may be a tall woman in black in that other wing.”

“Now you are crazy!” he exclaimed.

“Let me tell you.” She told of the tall woman in black and the Arab woman that looked like her.

“Were those two the same person?” she asked.

“We’ll ask the Jap.” He managed a smile.

“Then you didn’t—” She hesitated.

“No, I didn’t kill him,” he answered, “but I should have. I had a coil of insulated wire in my kit. I bound him hand and foot with that and left him back there. I hope he likes it.”

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