Page:Amazing Stories Volume 16 Number 06.djvu/197

Rh Army airforce till the bewhiskered old gentleman in the striped pants graciously permitted us to 'resign' and fly for China. But I notice our paychecks still bear Yankee signatures. And don't forget—there are a thousand more like us. Neutral soldiers of fortune, learning the ropes 'just in case.'

"But we've got to keep our noses clean tonight. Get all the pictures and information we can, but don't get in any scrapes—them's our orders. Well, where are we now?"

As they talked, Red had been deciding, as well as he could, their route on the scroll-map before him. Now he drew a dubious circle.

"Here, maybe. Or here. About Kiang-khan."

"Good enough. And nothing stirring yet, hey? Well, we'll keep looking for a few more minutes, then head back before dawn—Hey! Get a load of that! Campfires! A bivouac! Mark it, Red!"

The command was unnecessary. Barrett had also seen the encampment, scored it on his chart. But now, as the pair craned intently into the flame-dotted dark below, striving to guess the strength of the enemy outpost, there leaped to life that which startled both of them to awareness of a new peril. Searchbeams burst suddenly from the ground, snaring them in a dazzling web; floodlights blazed a golden square in the black jungle; there came the first, frantic coughs of anti-aircraft fire—phum-phum!—from invisible guns, and the biting snarl of hastily-revving motors. And:

"Get going!" roared Barrett. "We hit the jack-pot! It's an enemy airfield!"

AMEY needed no prodding. The first slashing finger of light had quickened into action the trained reflexes of an airman; already the small pursuit 'plane was lifting, bobbing and weaving away from the telltale beams. Now he gave it the gun; the snub-nosed Curtis flattened and streaked away like a startled swallow.

None too soon. Whatever shortcomings the Japs might have as warriors, they were speedy little devils. The Yankee fliers gained but a few minutes, a few short miles, advantage before their pursuers were in the air.

Even so, it should not have been difficult to escape in the dark. If it had only stayed dark as it should at this time of year, as it would have in any other place imaginable. But—this was the Orient, the semi-tropical topsy-turvy Land that skirts the China Seas.

Over the eastward horizon toward which they fled, an edge of ochre crept. Thin haze and hesitant; then deepening, widening, spreading, into a pearly, crepuscular veil. A cold and cheerless light against the backdrop of which their ship, both men knew, loomed as a perfect target!

Ramey gasped his dismay.

"Dawn! But—but that's impossible! It's only four o'clock. The sun shouldn't rise until—"

"False dawn!" corrected Barrett with sudden, comprehending savagery. "The famous 'dawn-before-sunrise'—that's what it is! I've read about it. It's possible anywhere, but it happens mostly in this part of the Orient. Result of flat country heat  wide expanse of Pacific  refraction. You're heading the wrong way, pal."

Ramey nodded tightly.

"I know. I headed southeast to confuse them; didn't want to tip off our base. I thought we could swing back when they gave up. But now—"

"Now what?"

"We can't turn back or they'd nab us, sure," gritted Ramey. "Our only