“I’ll see,” said Hal. “I’ll ask Mother. Maybe she’ll let me go. But anyway, I’ll let you know. I’ll put up the flags in the workshop window. All right?” “Sure,” said Bob, and walked out with Hal. He saw the boy to the door, and warned him again to be sure to come. When the two boys had left the room, Captain Bill turned to his sister. “Say,” he said, “do you think that Hal’s mother really won’t let him come, or is the boy looking for a way out?” “Why, what do you mean?” asked Mrs. Martin. “Just this,” said Bill, and puffed vigorously on his pipe. “I’ve been watching the boy, and I think that he’s afraid.” “Afraid of what?” “Afraid of actually going up in an airplane. I feel that a change has come over him since there has been an actual chance of his learning to fly,” explained the Captain. His sister looked pensive. “But he’s always been so interested in flying. That’s all the two of them ever talk about.” “Perhaps. When there was no immediate chance of his going up in a plane. Now that there is, I think he’d like to back out.” “There is his mother to consider, of course,” said Mrs. Martin. “She would undoubtedly object very strenuously if he merely went to the airport. You must remember that he’s all she has. She’s always so careful of him.” The Captain snorted. “Too careful,” he said. “She’s made the boy a bundle of fears. Bob has helped him get over some of them, but I think that they’re cropping out now. It will be very bad for Hal if he funks this. I think that it will hurt him a great deal. If he succeeds in overcoming his fears now for once and for all, if he learns to go up in a plane, even if he may never fly one himself, he will be a new boy. He’ll never be afraid again. But one let-down now, and he will be set way back—even further back than when Bob first met him.” “I think you’re right, Bill,” said his sister. “But what are we going to do about it?” The Captain shrugged his shoulders. “I think the best thing to do with the boy is not to let him know that we know he’s afraid. Treat him just as if he were the bravest lad in the world. I’ll take care of that. But I can’t take care of his mother. I never was a lady’s man,” smiled Captain Bill. “You’ll have to attend to that.” Mrs. Martin’s brow wrinkled. “I think you’ve taken the easier task,” she said with a wry smile. “I’d much rather teach a boy to overcome his fears than teach a mother to overcome hers. But I’ll try,” she added, and hoped against hope for success. Bob burst into the room. “How about something to eat?” he said. “I’m starved!” “As usual,” said his mother. “I would like to hear you just once complain about being not hungry.” “All right, mother,” said Bob. “If you want to hear me complain about that, you just feed me a good dinner now, and I’ll do my best to complain about being not hungry—after I finish it.” “You’re an impossible son,” said his mother, but smiled fondly at him. She really didn’t believe it. CHAPTER IV—Some War Heroes