_Eagles' Reward_
With all the appearance of a man striving to solve one of the world's
weightier problems, Freddy Farmer studied the Hotel Savoy menu card
line by line from top to bottom. Across the table Dave Dawson sat
looking at his closest pal, and grinning from ear to ear. Eventually,
though, when the English-born air ace continued to take the menu apart
bit by bit with his eyes, Dawson decided that enough was enough. He
reached over and whisked the card out of Freddy's hand.
"Okay, little man," he chuckled. "I'll tell you what the big words
mean, if you like. Now, this one, here--water. That's stuff that comes
in a glass. You drink it. It also comes down out of the sky in what we
call rain. It flows under bridges, and--"
"And please stop, I beg you!" Freddy snapped. "My sides ache with
laughter. I couldn't possibly stand another of your hilarious remarks.
And hand back that menu before I take measures that will get us both
thrown out of this hotel!"
"But why hand it back?" Dawson laughed. "Holy smoke! Don't you know
it by heart yet? For fifteen solid minutes you've been looking at the
thing."
"Quite," the other replied gravely. "And thoroughly enjoying myself
making believe. Hand it back, please, young fellow!"
"How's that?" Dave echoed, and passed the menu. "Making believe? I
don't get you."
"Knowing the limits of your so-called flashes of brilliance, I can
well imagine!" Freddy shot at him. "However, the fact of the matter is
that here in London food is rationed. And there are many, many savory
dishes that don't even appear on menus any more. So, to make myself
feel good, every time I pick up a menu I simply imagine that all the
pre-war dishes are there. And I have a lot of fun deciding just what
I'll order. Do I make myself clear?"
Dawson sighed heavily, and shook his head.
"Too clear," he said sadly. "Lately I've been suspecting that you were
going just a little bit screwy. Now I know! And me waiting here, polite
like, while you fumbled around! What a guy!"
Dave snorted, sighed again, and crooked his finger at the waiter. The
man came over to their table, and the two air aces gave their orders in
accordance with the short list of items on the menu.
"It will be wonderful when this war is over!" Freddy Farmer murmured as
the waiter walked away. "Just think, Dave! Just think of being able to
step into a restaurant and ordering anything that strikes your fancy."
"Which would be everything in the place, as far as you're concerned!"
Dawson laughed at him. "For a skinny guy, I never saw the beat of how
you can store food away. It scares me at times, too. I have dreams
that you've eaten so much that you can't even fit into one of the new
Lancaster bombers. But skip it, pal. For two long months you and I can
do any darn thing we want. And back in the little old U. S. A. there
are plenty of things for us to do. I'll really show you the States this
time! And how!"
The English youth half smiled, and nodded.
"Yes, quite," he grunted. "But _next_ leave we get we're going to spend
here in England. And another thing, my boy! Not that I actually believe
you are crooked, you know. However--well, I'm jolly well going to get a
little practice tossing coins before I have another go at it with you.
And that's a fact, too!"
"So help me, pal, it was strictly on the up and up," Dave said as he
made a little cross with his finger over his heart. "And it was the
best of two out of three, too. I was just lucky, kid. But look, Freddy.
If you really and truly want to--"
"Not at all, Dave!" the English youth cut in quickly. "Don't mind me,
old thing. I always feel a little bad when I leave England, if only for
a day or two. No. You won the coin toss, and so we'll spend our leave
in the U. S. Besides, we're supposed to make some speeches to help sell
War Bonds, you know. And speaking of that, do you know something, Dave?"
"What? But I think I can guess, Freddy. As a speech maker _I'm_ a swell
coal truck driver."
"Me, too!" Freddy echoed with a grimace. "Good grief! I'd rather face
a flight of Messerschmitts than a speaker's audience. I know I'll be a
terrible flip, as you call it."
"It's flop, pal," Dawson chuckled. "And that'll be two of us. Between
you, me, and the gate post, I'll be tickled silly if something happens
to make this lecture tour in the States fall through. I don't feel
happy about it, at all. Just the same, though, if it will sell some War
Bonds, then we sure can't let them down. And it will give you a swell
look at Uncle Sam's home grounds."
"Yes, there's that part of it," Freddy Farmer murmured with a nod.
"It's little enough for us to do, and--"
The English youth suddenly stopped dead with his mouth hanging open.
Dave, looking at him, saw his eyes come out like marbles on the ends
of sticks. And for a split second he thought his pal had been stricken
ill. Then as he turned his head and looked in the direction of Farmer's
stare, his own jaw sagged, and his own eyes popped out in dumbfounded
amazement.
The reason was the approach of the waiter with their orders. However,
what the man set before them wasn't even close to what they had
ordered. In fact, it was almost as though the Good Fairy had waved her
magic wand and changed the Hotel Savoy dining-room into a little bit
of another world. In short, each of them was served with a generous
helping of red, juicy roast beef! There were also mashed potatoes, and
creamed corn, and peas. And, yes, thick brown gravy, too!
For a long moment both of them sat speechless for fear that a single
sound would break the spell, and that all that was set before them
would disappear in thin air. Eventually, though, Dawson summoned the
courage to look up into the waiter's grinning face, and speak.
"My heart is bleeding, but I'm afraid you've made a mistake," he said
with a gigantic effort. "We didn't order this. Is there some rich
Indian Rajah staying at the hotel? And he brought along his own supply
of food, huh?"
The waiter laughed, and shook his head.
"Hardly, sir," he said. "The officials would have taken it from the
blighter before he left the ship, I fancy. Only them that has the
ration meat coupons can get it. And that goes for Royalty as well as
the likes of me."
"But--but, I say!" Freddy Farmer stammered out, and made a helpless
gesture with his hands. "We used up our last meat ration coupons
yesterday, you know."
"This is a gift, sir," the waiter said. "From the gentleman at the next
table. He gave me all of his meat coupons, he did, and told me to serve
you the best. And the best it is, I guarantee, too!"
If Dave and Freddy had kept their eyes on the waiter's face, they
would have seen him unconsciously lick his lips, and an envious look
creep into his eyes. However, they had both turned as one man and
were staring at the next table. There, dressed in a quiet but Bond
Street-tailored business suit, sat a short and slightly rotund Chinese
gentleman. He met their collective stare, smiled broadly, and bobbed
his head up and down. And then, when neither of the air aces were able
to speak, he got up from his table, came over to theirs and bowed
gravely.
"Would you do me the honor, Gentlemen?" he said in perfect English. "I
confess that my ears overheard a bit of your conversation, and as I
had several unused meat ration coupons, I thought that perhaps you two
would accept. But permit me to introduce myself. I am Mr. Soo Wong Kai."
Still not quite sure that they had not been dumped down into a little
corner of fairyland, Dave and Freddy pushed back their chairs and stood
up.
"There aren't the words to thank you, Mr. Kai." Dave smiled, and
extended his hand. "I am Captain Dawson, and my friend, here, is
Captain Farmer."
"Your introductions were unnecessary, Captain," the Chinese said with a
smile, and shook hands with them both. "You two famous men of the air
are known to millions, you know. When I return to China, this thrusting
of myself into your acquaintance will be one of my happiest memories.
But if I might make a suggestion--the roast beef is not half so savory
when it is cold. I beg of you, please seat yourselves, Captains, and
give me the great happiness of eating my humble offering."
"On condition that you have the waiter bring your meal over here, sir,
and join us," Freddy Farmer said politely. "And may I ask, sir? You are
the Mr. Kai of the Chinese Embassy here, are you not?"
"You are absolutely correct," the other smiled, and signalled to the
waiter to transfer his meal to their table. "Quite correct and, indeed,
kind. We of China do not like to take our meals alone. And it is the
same when we are in foreign lands, too. So I must thank you from the
bottom of my heart for your generous hospitality."
"Well, to be truthful, sir," Dawson chuckled, "the pleasure really is
all ours. You'd be surprised how sick Freddy and I get of hearing each
other sound off."
"Eh?" the English youth grunted, and shot Dave a hostile look. "Sound
off, you say?"
Soo Wong Kai laughed softly and leaned toward Freddy.
"The American way of saying, throwing the bull, Captain Farmer," he
said. "Or, as you English would have it, swinging the gate. In China we
have an expression which, when translated, means, counting the locusts.
There are billions and billions of locusts in China, you see. So to say
that one is counting the locusts is to mean that one is simply talking
to hear oneself. Or sounding off. Or throwing the bull. Or swinging the
gate. You see?"
"I've got a hunch you've kind of been around here and there, eh, Mr.
Kai?" Dave grinned at him. "And--oh, my gosh! Pardon me, sir!"
The Chinese looked at Dave and raised his thin brows in innocent
puzzlement.
"For what, may I ask, Captain Dawson?" he said. "For what reason should
you exclaim and ask my pardon? I fear I do not quite understand."
Dawson swallowed, and licked his lower lip quickly.
"I suddenly remembered seeing your picture in the London _Times_, and
reading about you, sir," Dave presently said. "You're Generalissimo
Chiang Kai-shek's new Minister of War, aren't you? And the head of the
Military Mission that recently arrived in England?"
"That's true." The Chinese nodded and smiled. "But I still fail to see
why you must beg my pardon."
"Well, for being sort of flip with my talk, sir," Dave said. "You're a
high government official, and--well, after all--"
"After all, are we not both men, Captain?" the other interrupted
quietly. "And are we not fighting the same foe, each in his own way?
Believe me, Captain, it is I who look up to you, because of the great
and fine things you have accomplished in the name of liberty and world
happiness. You, and your true friend, here. And millions of other brave
soldiers, too. Yes, I am a high government official, as you say, but
the higher a man gets the more he respects and admires those who do the
fighting, and shed the blood. They are the ones who are winning this
war, not we aged ones who are serving our respective countries in some
official capacity. _Youth_ will win this struggle, Captain. And youth
will win the peace, too. But--"
Soo Wong Kai paused. His face remained grave, but as he leaned slightly
toward Dawson there was a merry twinkle in his eyes.
"But what do you say we skip it, eh?" he chuckled. "Out the window with
who's who, and why. Until we must part, let's just be three guys named
Joe, huh?"
Both Dave and Freddy gulped hard, and then burst out laughing.
"Fair enough, it's a deal!" Dawson cried. "But I repeat what I said
just now. You've sure been around, Mr. Kai. But plenty!"