“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.”