“THE CAVE”
William circled the airport. Paul looked out of the window and cried.
“Say, look at that crowd of people below!”
The boys looked down and uttered exclamations of surprise. “I wonder
what it’s all about?” exclaimed Wallace.
“Perhaps it’s a committee to welcome us,” asserted the government
agent, opening his eyes as he spoke.
“To welcome us!” Bobolink cried. “What for?”
Ken shouted to the pilot, “Just keep on flying, William. Never mind
landing. We don’t want any welcoming committee.”
William guided the plane down to a perfect landing. Just as soon as the
machine came to a stop, the crowd came running toward it. The boys were
swallowed up by the mass of people. There were reporters, newspaper
photographers and other cranks who asked them a thousand questions and
tore at their clothes and hair. But the boys did not mind all that.
They were afraid for the safety of the plane. Although it was not
theirs yet, it was a valuable machine and it would be a shame if it
were harmed in any way.
However, Major McCarthy and two of his mechanics pushed their way
through the crowd. Without stopping to greet them, he called upon the
boys to help clear a path to wheel the plane into one of the hangars.
“It is much safer than leaving it out here,” he added.
The boys fell to and the machine was stored away. Then they had a hard
time getting through to the office. Most of the boys were angry rather
than pleased by the reception. “I wish I knew what this is all about,”
demanded Ken.
The Major smiled. “Perhaps you are not aware of it,” he informed them,
“but you are heroes.”
“Heroes!” exclaimed Bobolink. “What kind of heroes?”
McCarthy shrugged his shoulders, “I couldn’t tell you what kind. Just
plain heroes, I guess.”
Nuthin’ waved the suggestion of heroism away. He had a word for it.
“Phooey!” he muttered under his breath.
“But how did the news get out, that is something I should be interested
to know.”—that from Paul.
“I guess the police couldn’t keep it from prying reporters,” mumbled
the government agent.
“Let’s forget it and go home,” remarked Jack.
“That’s a swell idea,” added William. “And just as soon as I get home—”
Ken interrupted, “You are going to do what?”
“Practice the piano,” suggested Nuthin’.
“He will change his tie,” counter-suggested Paul.
“—I’m going to take a bath,” concluded William.
The boys laughed and Tom Woods joined in. “What are you going to do
now, fellows?” he asked.
“Go home,” answered Jack.
“I mean, what are your plans?”
“We don’t have any,” Paul informed him.
Using two cars, the Major’s and one belonging to a mechanic, Tom Woods
and the boys were taken to town. At police headquarters, Tom got out.
“So long, boys,” he called. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”
The boys waved. The agent walked off and they continued their way home.
At the home of each of the boys, a similar scene was enacted that
day. Coming home, Paul found his mother waiting for him. As soon as
he stepped over the threshhold, she fell on his neck and kissed
and hugged him. Putting his arms around her, he found that she was
trembling. Not knowing the reason for it, he was puzzled. He said,
“Mother, is there anything wrong? You are trembling all over.”
“There is nothing wrong with me. It’s you. Are you all right? Not hurt
or wounded or anything?” she questioned anxiously.
“Why, no! Of course not. I’m perfectly all right.” And to prove it he
began to go through a series of stretching and bending exercises.
His mother looked sternly at him. “The idea of the thing!” she
exclaimed. “You said you were going camping and all the time you
knew that you and your friends were going there to catch a gang of
smugglers. You might have gotten hurt. You might even have been killed.”
“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.