With a savage cry he lunged for her, his hand grasping for the gun.
Red yelled a frantic warning and the girl spun back, but it was too late. The German was upon her, one powerful arm closing about her waist and drawing her to him, while the other hand grabbed for the gun.
She struggled helplessly in his iron grip.
“Get rid of the gun!” Red yelled.
The German’s hand was inches from her wrist, and there was a gloating expression of triumph on his face as he drew her closer. Ann jerked away from him with every ounce of her strength behind the effort, and hurled the gun into the tangled brush that surrounded the clearing.
With a wild curse the German flung her aside. He glared at the lieutenant who was crawling back to his feet.
“It’s an even fight now,” he snarled. “There’s no gun in my back this time. And when I beat the rest of your brains out, I put a bullet through the cripple’s head and take the girl with me just as I planned. You haven’t won, my stupid friend, you have only delayed the inevitable.”
The American glanced dazedly at Ann’s huddled, limp figure on the ground, sprawled where the German’s powerful shove had thrown her, and gradually the fog faded from his eyes and they hardened to points of cold anger.
“Okay, krauthead,” he murmured, “that was only the first round.”
“Attaboy!” yelled Red.
The German smiled tightly and moved in, but this time the American circled him, jabbing a fast, blinding left into the face. The German shook his head angrily and threw a half dozen wild punches into the air, but still the left was in his face, stinging, blinding, tipping him off balance before he could set himself to punch.
A flush of rage crept into his cheeks and he lunged forward swinging wildly with his right. The lieutenant let it whistle harmlessly over his head, and then he stepped in and slammed three hard punches into the German’s body.
The German gasped and dropped his hand to cover his stomach. And Tom Diggles set himself and slugged him with a right on his unprotected jaw.
The German’s eyes glazed and he staggered back, trying to lift his arms to protect his face. The lieutenant drove in, both fists flying, and the German fell back another step. A hard right toppled him off balance and his knees began to buckle slowly. As he fell Tom swung his right arm in a vicious chopping stroke that smacked against the side of the captain’s jaw with a sound like a brick falling on a pavement.
The German hit the ground, rolled once and was still.
For an instant the American, swaying slightly on his feet, stared at the limp figure of the captain, then he shook his head and moved to the girl’s side.
She was sitting on the ground, smiling.
“Are you okay, honey?” he asked anxiously.
“What I just saw,” she said, “would cure me of anything. You were wonderful.”
The lieutenant grinned slowly.
“It was kind of fun, too,” he said.
Chapter VIII
The motors of the plane were throbbing powerfully and the young American was at the controls making a last-minute check of his instruments.
Ann was at his side, watching him anxiously.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Our only problem is gas,” he answered. He glanced back at the two Germans, one bound carefully with leather belts and the other stretched out unconscious, and then his eyes moved to Red, who was propped up in the center of the cabin.
He glanced back at his gas gauge and shook his head.
“We’ve got quite a load,” he said, “All we can do is a lot of hoping.”
Tink and Jing were sitting at the edge of the doorway, taking a last look at the green depths of the jungle.
“Isn’t it wonderful how nicely everything turned out,” Jing said, sighing happily. “I just can’t believe all our troubles are actually over.”
“I can’t either,” Tink said nervously, glancing over his shoulder.
“You mean you’re worried about Nastee?”
Tink nodded. “I wonder where he is,” he said.
“Who wants to know?” a familiar and impudent voice said behind him.
Tink swung around and saw Nastee standing behind him, a contented smirk on his face. His hands were in his pockets and he was rocking impudently back and forth on his heels.
“Oh, oh,” Tink said.
And then he saw that Nastee was not alone. At his side was a wizened, sullen looking little imp with bulging eyes and a small bitter mouth.
Jing was tugging at Tink’s arm.
“Who’s that?” she whispered.
“A gremlin,” Tink said grimly.
“You bet he’s a gremlin,” Nastee said, chuckling happily. “He got here just a while ago and he showed me a lot of clever little tricks.”
“Do you mean that you two have sabotaged this plane again?” Tink said angrily.
Nastee laughed gleefully. “Just wait’ll we get in the air and you’ll see.”
“Now, just a minute you two,” Tink said, getting to his feet and staring from one to the other with determined eyes. “I’ve stood all I intend to of your interference and orneryness. And I’m sick and tired of your stupidity.”
“Stupidity?” the gremlin queried, his eyes sharp and bright. “How do you figure that?”
“I’ll tell you,” Tink said disgustedly. “We exist because people believe in us. If everyone stopped believing in us we’d stop existing. Even a gremlin should be able to figure that out. And yet you’re working for the Germans. And do you think they’ll believe in us. They don’t believe in love or honor or decency, so what makes you think they’ll believe in fairies.”
The gremlin scratched his head. “You got a good point there,” he said, at last.
“Now, you’re going to tell the rest of the gremlins what I’ve told you,” Tink said, “and if they don’t think it makes sense, tell them I’m going to be on their necks until they do.”
He swung the gremlin around in the front of the door and kicked him out of the plane.
“Don’t forget,” he shouted after the gremlin, “you’ve had your last warning.”
The gremlin sat on the grass and looked up at Tink with respect in his eyes.
“Okay, chum,” he said, “I’ll talk to ’em.”
Ann walked to the door and closed “All set, Tom,” she said.
“Okay.” He released the brake and the plane slowly gathered speed as it rolled slowly down the make-shift runway. With a slight tremble it left the ground, lagged for an instant and then began a slow, steady climb that took it over the tops of the surrounding trees with several feet to spare.
“Now,” the lieutenant said, relaxing in the pilot’s seat, “we have nothing to worry about as long as the gas holds out.”
Tink turned to Nastee.
“What did you do to this plane?” Nastee laughed. “You can shove gremlins around, but I’m different.”
“Then you aren’t going to tell me?”
“Why should I?” Nastee said scornfully, “if you’re so smart, why don’t you find out for yourself.”
Tink started for him but Jing grabbed his arm and Nastee took advantage of the opportunity to scurry away.
“Why did you do that?” Tink demanded.
“I’ve got a little idea,” Jing said with a smile. “I’m going after Nastee now and you follow me in a little while.”
“All right,” Tink grumbled, “but you should of let me beat it out of him.”
“Just like a man,” said Jing with calm superiority. “Only one approach to every problem, brute force.”
“Hurry up,” Tink said. “Don’t stand here making wise-cracks.”