Part 27 (1/2)
”Your pigeon isn't showing good manners, Dan,” teased Tom. ”He is showing as plainly as possible that he doesn't like this crowd.”
”Most likely it's Hen he objects to,” murmured Dalzell, with a grin.
”But I'll tell you what I think t.i.t-bit wants. He's warm, fed and feels as strong as ever. What he wants, now, is to hit up a pace for Gridley and get back into the cote with his mates.”
”How long would it take him to get there?” wondered Tom.
”Why, something like ten or twelve minutes, probably,” Dan answered.
”Whee! If we could make it that fast we'd be taking frequent trips,”
sighed Reade.
”I wouldn't make the trip more'n one way. I'd stay in Gridley after I got there,” grumbled Hen, but no one paid any heed to him.
”See here,” broke in d.i.c.k suddenly, ”if that pigeon wants to go home, and is able to, why can't we make him take a message for us? I believe we can--if some one at the other end would only see it.”
”Dad always looks the birds over when he feeds 'em in the morning,” Dan declared.
”Wait until I get a piece of paper,” rejoined Prescott, almost breathless from the hold the idea had taken on him. He got the paper, drew out a pencil, and sat down to write, calling off the words as he wrote them:
”To the home folks. We're all here at the cabin, snug as can be, with plenty of water, firewood and food, and having a jolly time. Don't worry about us. We're having a jolly time.”
”Tell 'em I'm here,” begged Hen Dutcher. ”My folks might like to know.”
So d.i.c.k added that information and signed his name. Next he rolled the paper up into a cylinder.
”Dan, catch that precious bird of yours,” begged the young leader.
Dalzell presently accomplished that purpose. d.i.c.k tied a string around the pigeon's neck, loosely enough not to choke the bird, and yet securely enough so that the noose could not slip off. Then the paper cylinder was made fast to the string.
”Open the window on the side towards Gridley, Greg,” called d.i.c.k. ”When it's open, Dan, you give your pigeon a start.”
As Dan let go the bird fluttered from the sill to the snow. Then, after a moment, little Mr. Pigeon spread his wings and soared skyward. Soon the boys had seen the last of the small traveler, still headed in the direction of home.
”Our folks will soon have the news,” declared Dan proudly.
”And, oh--hang it!” gasped d.i.c.k disgustedly. ”I forgot to add even a word about Mr. Fits!”
”Well, he isn't here with us, at any rate,” Dave answered.
CHAPTER XIV
THE MYSTERIOUS VOICES OF THE NIGHT
”Wow! Wow-ow-ow-oo-whoo-oo-oo!”
It would be impossible to convey the weird sound in words.
Six boys and a whiner were asleep in their bunks in the log cabin when that awesome sound first smote the air.