"Gee, Dad," cried Bob. "This time, if there's a war, I'm going to
enlist, believe me."
"Same here, Uncle George," declared Frank. "Bob and I could go as
aviators."
"Hurray for the young aviators of the Rio Grande," cried Bob, swinging
his arm like a cheer leader of the school team.
"You boys don't know what you're talking about," said Mr. Temple, but
with an indulgent smile. "I should imagine you would have read enough
of the horrors of war during the past few years to make you never want
to see a battlefield or shoot a gun at a man."
"That's right, Uncle George," said the sensitive Frank, shuddering as
he recalled some of the things he had read of Europe's devastation.
"No, boys," said Mr. Temple, "if I am right about this, we'll have
something more important to do than to fight battles or track bandits
across the Mexican desert by airplane."
"What?" chorused the chums.
"Instead of making war," said Mr. Temple slowly, "we'll have to
prevent it."
"Righto, Uncle George," cried Frank, springing up. "When do we pack?"
"Young man, you're in a hurry, aren't you?" smiled Mr. Temple. "Well,
boys, I believe that by day after tomorrow I can have my affairs in
order so that I can leave them for awhile.
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