The next Sunday Fishel and Faivish set out on their spy-catching mission

F

ishel put down the children’s magazine he’d been reading. His eyes were shining like stars.

“Wow! Did you read the story about that guy who saved a life?”

“Yeah,” said Faivish. “Twice! He was such a hero! The US Navy SEALs even took lessons from him.”

“Wish I could be a hero too,” sighed Fishel.

“Same here,” echoed Faivish, agreeing with his brother for a change.

Fishel sat up suddenly, making his brother jump.

“So let’s do it!” he said.

“Do what? And I wish you wouldn’t jump up like that,” said Faivish crossly.

Fishel didn’t even hear him.

“We can be heroes too! There was an article in the newspaper the other day about how the Russians have spies all over the place. Who’s to say that some of them aren’t in our very own town, without anyone realizing? We could be the ones to track them down!”

“Hmm,” responded Faivish. “How would we find them?”

“Easy! We dress in camouflage clothing. We’ll paint our faces. Then we hide in the woods like the guy in the story. From there we’ll watch for spies.”

Faivish’s face lit up.

“Okay! We’ve got face paints left from Purim. I think I’ll do a clown face, like Jolly Solly.”

“A clown face?! What’s the use of that?” Fishel demanded. “We’d be too easy to spot. We need to paint our faces brown and green. That way we’ll blend into the scenery.”

“Who says the woods are only brown and green?” argued Faivish. “There could be bluebells in the woods. Red roses. And orange — well, oranges. Brown and green wouldn’t be much help then.”

The two glared at each other, fists ready.

Fortunately, Mrs. Friedman called them just then, preventing another fight.

The next Sunday Fishel and Faivish set out on their spy-catching mission. In the end they hadn’t found the face paints, green or any other color. Instead they rubbed some mud on their faces. Grimly they made their way to a marshy area not far from Sunny Lane. It wasn’t really woods, but the closest woods were miles away. This was the next-best thing.

The area was empty when they arrived. The only sounds were the cries of birds in the air above them. This gave the boys plenty of time to find thick bushes to hide behind.

It got rather boring after a while. Fishel and Faivish kept looking impatiently at their watches. Suddenly they heard footsteps. A tall, thin man came into view. He was wearing a black windbreaker. Fishel and Faivish eyed him with suspicion.

He pulled off a backpack, and took out a folded tent. Then he put up the tent. The brothers noted grimly that it was olive green. It was obviously designed to blend into the scenery. He was clearly up to no good. The man entered the tent. He then appeared at a small window in the tent. He scanned the sky. With binoculars, no less! He must be looking for enemy signals! Fishel and Faivish stared desperately at each other. They had to notify the police! But how to do it without tipping off the spy?

(Excerpted from Mishpacha Jr., Issue 776)