The Banner Boy Scouts in the Air

CHAPTER XXII

“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.