Freddy and the Flying Saucer Plans by Walter R. Brooks Page A

others were out spying.
    Penobsky knew that even if he got the plans, it was going to be hard to get them out of the country. Not only because the spies of the seventeen other nations who were after them would be on his trail, but because the U. S. Government would be watching all the seaports and airfields as soon as it was known that he had them. But the main thing was to get them, and to keep them afterwards. Then he could wait until a good opportunity came to get away. He had plans for that, too.
    The only thing he hadn’t been able to plan for was how to get away from the jail unseen by the other spies. And he didn’t. Cautious and quiet as he was, dozens of eyes, peering from behind trees and peeping through bushes, spotted him at once, and there was a general rush for the gate, which was the only exit from the grounds.
    With the plans actually there, there would probably have been a terrible free-for-all fight, in which indeed the plans might have been destroyed. Cy, saddled and bridled, was drowsing under a tree near Freddy’s window, as Freddy had asked him to. Realizing what had probably happened, and fearing that this man might not be able to escape, he trotted out. Penobsky ran to him, jumped into the saddle, and with a rattle of hoofs they were through the gate, scattering the spies like a bunch of chickens and knocking two of them endways. And then they were galloping up the empty steet while the spies ran for their cars.
    Once outside the town, Penobsky made crosscountry for his house, and the lights of the cars died away behind them. He kept on steadily for an hour, crossing several roads, even cantering for a mile or so along one stretch, until pursuing car lights made them take to the fields again. When finally they came to the house, Penobsky pulled up in the gateway and gave a peculiar whistle. At once a searchlight on the porch was turned full on him. Cy blinked in the glare. Then the light went off and somebody called out something in a strange language. Penobsky dismounted, gave Cy a whack on the flank and said “Go home,” and started up the drive. So Cy went back to the jail.
    In the morning, Freddy told the sheriff the whole story. “I don’t think we ought to say anything about it though,” he said. “If they were the real plans, getting them back would be a cinch, because Cy knows where this spy is, and the state cops could besiege the house, and make him surrender. But we don’t want to get them back. They’d be given to Uncle Ben, and then the whole business would start over again, with the spies and everything.”
    â€œSpies are mostly gone this morning,” said the sheriff. “Mike threw a firecracker over the fence after breakfast and didn’t flush one of them.”
    â€œSure. They saw the plumber escape. They’re after him now, and that’s fine. But look, sheriff; that mosquito—I’m kind of worried about her. She did a fine patriotic act, and I haven’t heard a peep out of her. Suppose she got hurt when the guy sneezed?”
    â€œShe may have been blown into a corner somewhere,” said the sheriff. “Why don’t we get the vacuum cleaner and see if we can pick her up?”
    But Freddy thought that might be dangerous. “Suppose she’s injured. I wish you’d help me look for her. She took a big risk—really, you know if you or I had done that, they’d have given us the Congressional medal.”
    â€œWell,” said the sheriff dryly, “I can’t imagine doing it in the first place, and in the second, what would she do with the medal? Hang it round her neck? However, I’ll say this: if we find her she’ll get a free meal in this jail any time she asks for it, and no fly swatters.”
    It isn’t easy to find a mosquito in a large room when you want one—not that you usually do. But the strange thing was that they did find Sybil. She had been blown by the