“No, I want you with me, Rad,” Tom said. “I need looking after and so does Ned. We brought only one suit of clothes each, and they need pressing.”
“Dat’s whut I’ll do!” said the old colored man. He was pleased thus to serve his master.
So great was the interest manifested by the papers in Tom’s exploit that he could hardly get away from the reporters long enough to eat. At last he had fairly to beg them to give him a few minutes of quiet, and reluctantly they consented.
But after he had bathed and dined they were at him again, so it was long past midnight when Tom was really free. Mr. Damon, tired with the unusual trip, had retired, and thus Tom and his financial manager found themselves left pretty much alone.
“I don’t feel a bit like sleeping,” Tom said, “I’d only toss and tumble if I went to bed.”
“Same here,” agreed Ned.
“What do you say if we take a run out to the plane?” asked Tom. “I’d like to make sure she’s all right, even with Koku and the others on guard. There’s altogether too much curiosity about her.”
“I’m with you—come on.”
A taxicab took them out to the landing field, but, being a new man, the driver made a wrong approach and found himself on a blind road, half a mile from the Osprey’s landing place.
“Never mind,” said Tom, when the man offered to go back and approach by the proper route. “We can make better time by walking across lots. This will do.”