"The sort of smile," Jack retorted, "that won't come off."
"Oh, how good I do feel!" was a remark that if he made it once he did a dozen times, always finding it greeted by answering nods on the part of his two companions.
Of course they told the farmer they were aviators who had had the misfortune to drop into the marsh, where he would find their plane.
Beverly hired him to dismantle this in part, and store it away in his shed until later on it could be called for in person. He was not to deliver it to any person without the presence of one of the trio.
When he started out to drive them in his old rickety vehicle to the nearest railroad station, miles distant, he was almost stricken dumb because Beverly, in the fulness of his gratitude over their marvelous escape, thrust a full hundred dollars upon him, with a promise of a like amount later on for looking after the abandoned bombing plane.
"To-day is marked with a white stone in the life of Farmer Jenkins, believe me," Jack whispered aside to Tom, as they saw the amazed look spreading over the man's weather-beaten face.
"It's that with all of us," said Tom soberly.
Jack fell silent after that. He was engrossed with thoughts connected with his unexpected return to the home of his childhood; and in imagination could see the excitement their unheralded appearance was certain to arouse.
It had been arranged between them that their presence must be kept as much a secret as possible. On this account they would delay their arrival at the home of Jack's mother until after darkness had set in.
"To-morrow," Jack had said, when these things were being discussed, "we'll telegraph to Mr. Smedley in Richmond to come on without delay in connection with my dead uncle's estate, ready to settle it according to the provisions of his queer will. Then we'll be ready for Randolph when he bobs up."