“These boys have shown such ingenuity so far,” he said, “and have been of such aid, that I feel I owe it to them to take them along. Of course, they
must have your consent. And I would be delighted to have you with me, too, if you would care to come.”
“Not I, thank you,” said Mr. Temple, with emphasis. “And I don’t know about consenting to your request in regard to the boys. It is very kind of you, and I can see you sympathize with their adventurous inclinations. But, won’t it be dangerous? Won’t the smugglers put up a stiff fight?”
“There is that possibility, of course,” said Inspector Burton. “I believe, however, that when they see the uniforms of Uncle Sam’s fighters, and discover an armed vessel of the navy off shore, they will surrender without resistance. Most folks, you know, have a great horror of running foul of the government and its armed forces. Police they might resist, but Uncle Sam’s sailors and soldiers overawe them.”
“Yes, I believe that is true,” said Mr. Temple. “Still——”
“However, Mr. Temple,” said the Secret Service man, hastily, “I can sympathize with your anxiety, and if you object I withdraw my invitation to the boys.”
“Dad, you have got to let us go,” pleaded big Bob. “Why, as Inspector Burton says, there will be little danger. Besides, we aren’t babies. We have
taken care of ourselves pretty capably under trying circumstances this summer, haven’t we? Now, haven’t we?”
He stood above his father as he spoke, having leaped to his feet in his anxiety.
“Yes, you have, Bob,” said his father. He put up his hands before him as if for protection, and bent away in mock terror from his big son. “Don’t strike. I surrender.”