At least, he appeared to be convinced, as he gave up. A wind was blowing down from the northern plains, digging up big clouds of yellow dust. It stirred in the skirts of the olive green overcoat and lifted and lowered its left lapel. Mitchell’s cheeks were sunken and his eyes burned too brightly. He stood very straight before three Japanese officers. “Thanks to an error of your planes,” said Mitchell, “it will be necessary for me to request a stretcher in which to transport my command. And I also wish to count the gold in that keg before I accept it from you.” “You think, perhaps, that we are dishonest?” said the proud officer snappishly. “If there’s any of it gone, I’ll be checked for it the rest of my life. You will have enough to answer when my commanding officer knows I have been detained.” It was sheer bluff, but this same bluff was giving him freedom at least.
