As soon as it was possible to do so, the boys sent a message to the girls and to their folks, telling about the accident and of their escape.
"It's bound to get in the newspapers," said Dick. "And if we don't send word the others will be scared to death."
The oldest Rover boy was right about the affair getting in the newspapers. The local sheets gave the accident a column or more and some city sheets took it up and made a "spread" of it, with pictures that were truly thrilling even though they were inaccurate.
"Humph! look at this picture!" cried Sam, showing up the supplement to a New York Sunday newspaper. "Looks as if we hit the smokestack of the locomotive and sailed along on that for a mile or two! Phew! what an imagination that artist must have!"
"And here is a picture showing the train climbing over the biplane!" returned Tom. "Say, it's a wonder we didn't wreck the Express instead of the Express wrecking us!"
On the day following the accident the boys were told, after class hours, that some gentlemen wished to see them. They went to the reception room, to find two men there—a lawyer and a doctor.
"You are the—er—the young gentlemen who were in the—er—the flying machine smash-up?" queried one of the visitors, sharply.
"Yes," answered Dick.
"Mr. Rover?"
"Yes, Richard Rover."