The Banner Boy Scouts in the Air

“But, mother,” protested Paul, “nobody was killed or hurt. All the boys are perfectly all right and in the best of health.”

“Well, it’s a good thing. But, big as you are, if you ever do that again, I’m going to have your father give you a good thrashing.”

Dr. Morrison, who had just entered, laughed. “My dear,” he said, “if it ever comes to that, I’m afraid I would get the worst of it. He is taller than I by a head and weighs about twenty-five pounds more.”

“I would never do that, dad,” protested Paul.

“I know you wouldn’t. But if you ever took it into your head to—Well, I hope you never do.” And again he laughed.

For the following several days, the boys were made miserable by the public acclaim that was showered upon them. They could not appear on the street; that was out of the question. To set foot outside the house meant to be immediately surrounded by an ever increasing crowd, with every individual wanting to shake the boy’s hand, slap him on the back, pinch him, and ask a thousand questions. But staying in the house was almost as bad. The capture of the smugglers had aroused national interest and many out of town reporters suddenly appeared and they went to the home of each boy to get a story; accompanying the reporter was a photographer to take pictures. The boys were tired of answering questions but they couldn’t very well refuse—it seemed that getting the story meant so much to the reporter. Then, also the homes of the boys had overnight become exceedingly popular and all day long there was a continual coming and going of visitors.

On the third day, a car appeared in front of Paul’s home and Major McCarthy jumped out. “Come on, Paul,” he said, “let’s go.”

“Where to?”

“The airport.”

“What for?” Paul was curious.

“You’ll find out when we get there,” the Major answered with a twinkle in his eye.

At Jack’s home Paul ran inside to call his chum. “Come on Jack, the Major is outside and we are going to—”

Jack was at the moment in the living room answering the questions of a neighbor. “Never mind,” he said, interrupting, “don’t tell me where we are going, just so long as we go somewhere.”

So they went from home to home, picking up the boys who piled into two cars, the Major’s car and Mr. Carberry’s car with Wallace at the wheel. The boys riding with the Major prodded him for some information as to why they were going to the airport, but he only smiled and shook his head “Wait until you get there,” he answered them.

At the airport, the boys were a buzzing group of children as they followed the Major to the office. As they stepped inside, they found Tom Woods leaning back in a chair and quietly smoking a cigarette. He laughed and greeted them, “Hello, fellows,” he called out.

“Hello, Mr. Woods.”

“How are you, Mr. Woods?”

“What are you doing here?”

Turning to the Major, the boys asked, “Well, now what? What’s the surprise?”

McCarthy smiled. Pointing a finger at the government agent, he said, “It’s his surprise, fellows. You tell them, Tom.”

Woods lifted himself out of his seat. “Very well, then,” he drawled. “Let’s go down to the hangars.”

The boys eagerly followed the Major and Tom Woods. At the hangars, Bobolink cried, “Look, fellows. The smuggler’s plane—she is still here.”

“Yes,” replied the agent, “She is still and what’s more, she is remaining here.”

“What do you mean?” asked Paul.

“Well, the ship now belongs to you boys.”

The statement knocked the breath out of them. Suddenly they all exploded simultaneously and shouted questions. “What do you mean she is ours?”

“How?”

“Why?”

“How come? Tell us.”

Tom Woods smiled. “Just what I said, fellows. She is yours and don’t ask questions.”

“Hooray! Hooray for Mr. Woods!” cried Nuthin’.

And the boys cheered him lustily and vigorously.

Caustically, the agent remarked, “I hope that some day you will be kind enough to give me a ride in her.”

“We will,” they answered and laughed heartily.

Wallace, however, was a bit puzzled. “But, Major,” he asked, “What about the plane you were supposed to buy for us.”

“I almost did,” was the reply. “But when Tom told me, I cancelled the deal. Now you can use the money to run this plane.”

“Hooray!” they cheered.

The boys were happy. They walked around the machine and caressed it. “We ought to give it a name,” suggested Jack.

“How about calling it ‘Stanhope’?” asked Paul.

“No, that name is not a very good one,” objected Ken. “You have the Stanhope Drug Store, the Stanhope Vegetable Market, the—”

“How about calling it ‘The Cave’?” Jack had spoken and all the boys looked. “You get my meaning?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Certainly. That’s just the name for it.”

“It is settled,” said Nuthin’. “We will call it ‘The Cave’. Are there any objections?”

There were none. They were all eager to take off, and ten minutes later “The Cave” was taxiing across the field, rising from the ground like a beautiful bird.