Dave Dawson at Truk Page 2

  CHAPTER TWO

  _Strange Business_

  With an angry gesture Freddy Farmer changed his rain slicker to hisother arm, and pushed his service cap to the back of his head.

  "Blast it, I'm going to rest!" he cried, and instantly pulled up to ahalt. "You said a walk, Dave, not a cross-country hike to the Atlanticcoast. You know how far we've come?"

  Dawson slowed down and turned around with a grin.

  "Who cares how far?" he said. "This is swell. The trouble with you is,you're falling apart from old age. But okay, if you have to rest. Someview, huh? Californians sure have a right to brag, don't they?"

  "If they like," Freddy muttered, and sank down on a convenient treestump by the side of the path. "But it's not my old age, I'll have youknow. It's these blasted new shoes. Only wore them once before. Icertainly wouldn't have worn them if I'd thought you were coming thisfar. It's all of five miles, if it's an inch."

  "Just the right distance for a nice work-out," Dawson said with aheartless grin, as he sank down beside Freddy. "But get those gunboatsoff and let's see if you've got any blisters. And speaking of blistersfrom new shoes, I once knew a guy who got a blister, and two days later,guess what?"

  "What?" Freddy Farmer grunted, and began unlacing his shoes. "What abouttwo days later?"

  "He died, just like that," Dawson grinned, and snapped his fingers. "Hewas a swell guy, too. And it was just a little tiny blister. Didn't seemlike anything at all. Let's have a look, kid. Maybe you got a _big_blister."

  "You'll have something big, too, and on the side of your head, if youdon't shut up!" Freddy growled, and held up one of his shoes by the toe."One thing I always admired about you, young fellow, you do cheer up achap so!"

  "Always aim to please," Dawson chuckled, and leaned back on his elbows."See that hill over there? How far, would you say?"

  "I'm not saying, because I don't care a penny's worth!" young Farmersnapped, and peeled off his socks.

  "About three miles, I guess," Dawson murmured. "I think we can make itthere and back to the base by dark. We'd get a swell view of the sunsetfrom the top of that hill."

  "You would, if you're fool enough to go there!" Freddy Farmer cried."But not me, because I'm heading back to the base just as soon as I'vehad me a little rest!"

  "Aw, don't be a sissy!" Dawson chided. "Come on. It will do you good.Really break in those new shoes of yours. I was kidding about it beingthree miles. It can't be more than a mile. We'll get a swell view ofDago and Coronado, Freddy. Come on; be a good guy!"

  When there was no comment from his flying mate and dearest pal, Dawsonturned his head and opened his mouth to speak again. But no words camefrom between his lips, and that was because of the scowling, puzzledlook on Freddy's face. He was sitting up straight, holding a sock ineach hand, and staring intently at the crown of a low hill a shortdistance in back of where they sat.

  "What are you looking at?" Dawson demanded, and twisted all the wayaround.

  "That little cluster of shacks up there," Freddy replied. "I just saw acouple of chaps sneaking along by them. They looked a bit strange to me.I think one of them was in uniform."

  "So what?" Dave grunted as he eyed the group of weather-beaten shacks."That's where the pickers live, I guess. For the orange groves, I mean.They're migratory pickers. They don't stay in one place all year round.Only for the picking season. Then they move, families and all, to someother section where a fruit crop has come in. That must be some life, Idon't think. I wouldn't ... I see them, now, pal. And one is in uniform.And--hey! They're looking around as though they wanted to make surenobody was watching them. Crouch down, Freddy. They won't be able to seeus for those bushes there. I wonder what their act is all about anyway?"

  "Well, it certainly looks suspicious from here," Freddy Farmer gruntedas he hugged the ground closer with Dawson. "And ... I say, Dave, yousee that?"

  "See what?" Dawson demanded.

  "The one in civilian clothes, if you could call them that!" theEnglish-born air ace said breathlessly. "His right hand! He's got a gunin it. Watch, and you'll see the sun on it as he turns."

  Dawson didn't make any reply. He hugged the ground and peered past aclump of bushes at the two figures standing on the crown of the low hillno more than a couple of hundred yards away. One was very definitelygarbed in uniform, but because of the position of the sinking sun, andthe rays of light it cast off, it was impossible to tell what kind of auniform at the distance. Then the other, the one obviously garbed incivilian clothes, turned slightly and the sunlight danced off a gun heheld in his right hand. Dave gasped audibly, but it was not caused bysight of the sun on the gun. Rather, it was because of the figure'smovements with the gun.

  "Cat's sake, Freddy!" he grunted. "The guy is waving that soldier insidethat shack with his gun. See? There they go in, both of them. What theheck do you suppose, pal?"

  "Blessed if I know," Freddy breathed back. "Certainly looks deucedlyqueer, though. Do you fancy that soldier chap is being held up, or is introuble?"

  "I wouldn't know," Dawson grunted with a frown. "Maybe we should findout. But he didn't seem to act as though he were putting up anyobjections. I had the feeling there that he sort of smiled."

  "Me, too," Freddy replied with a nod. "I was wondering if you had seenit, or if it was just my imagination. Oh, it probably means nothing atall. We're just the suspicious type, I guess."

  Dawson stared at the crown of the hill for a moment, and then loweredhis gaze to the ground right in front of him, deep in thought.

  "What are you thinking about. Dave?" young Farmer presently asked.

  "The one thing that doesn't seem to make sense," Dawson murmured afteranother moment or two of silence. "That gun ... and it certainly was agun, wouldn't you say?"

  "Definitely," Freddy assured him. "Looked like a long-barreled automaticto me. But it was definitely a gun of some sort. Well, what about it?"

  "What's a civilian doing with a gun?" Dawson asked. "Particularly inthese parts. This is a military zone, Freddy."

  "Perhaps it's the soldier's, and he let him look at it," young Farmeroffered.

  Dawson just shrugged at that, and said nothing. He raised his eyes andstared at the shack into which the two figures had disappeared, and thenpresently he turned and looked questioningly at Freddy Farmer.

  "Well?" he said.

  "Well, what?" the English-born air ace replied innocently.

  "You know exactly what I mean!" Dawson snapped. "Do we take a look tomake sure, or do we just skip the whole thing, and start back to thebase?"

  "What do you think?" Freddy instantly countered with a question of hisown. "Shall we, or shan't we?"

  Dawson hesitated a moment, and then pointed at Freddy's shoes and socks.

  "Put them on," he said. "Maybe it'll just be a horse-laugh on us, butmaybe it isn't as it should be. It isn't picking season around here yet,and by rights I don't think there should be anybody living in thoseshacks. I ... Oh, heck! Call me a curious cuss if you want to, butthings like this get my curiosity clicking. I have to find out one wayor the other."

  "As though I hadn't known you long enough to realize that!" FreddyFarmer grunted, and began putting on his socks and shoes. "But for onceI'm with you. It's aroused my curiosity, too. How do we operate? Walkright up there, or steal from bush to bush, your American Indian style?"

  "Neither!" Dawson snapped, and pointed to their right. "We use ourheads, instead! We go back that way and circle up the rise from thatend. Then we walk along with the shacks covering us. That way, if_we're_ surprised we can say that we were just taking a look at thelay-out. Just remember, one of them has a gun. And he might be the kindof a guy who asks questions _afterward_."

  "And right you are, for a fact!" Freddy Farmer breathed, and tied thelast shoelace. "Your way suits me quite all right. As you Yanks say,there's no need to have somebody pull our necks out."

  "You and Yank lingo!" Dawson groaned. "But skip it. Let's go, and ...But, hey! What about your feet, Freddy?
"

  "They'll last," young Farmer assured him, and stood up. "It was only apebble, anyway. Let's get going."

  Only a pebble. Just a tiny fragment of stone. Yet the presence of thatpebble in Freddy Farmer's shoe was to send them both into the Valley ofDeath, and perhaps even to change the entire course of the war in thePacific!