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to the well…remembered landmarks。 Most of the birds had been
trained by way of Columbus and Buffalo。 Arnaux knew the Columbus
route； but also he knew that by Detroit； and after leaving Lake
Michigan； he took the straight line for Detroit。 Thus he caught
up on his handicap and had the advantage of many miles。 Detroit；
Buffalo； Rochester； with their familiar towers and chimneys；
faded behind him； and Syracuse was near at hand。 It was now late
afternoon； six hundred miles in twelve hours he had flown and was
undoubtedly leading the race； but the usual thirst of the Flyer
had attacked him。 Skimming over the city roofs； he saw a loft of
Pigeons； and descending from his high course in two or three
great circles； he followed the ingoing Birds to the loft and
drank greedily at the water…trough； as he had often done before；
and as every pigeon…lover hospitably expects the messengers to
do。 The owner of the loft was there and noted the strange Bird。
He stepped quietly to where he could inspect him。 One of his own
Pigeons made momentary opposition to the stranger； and Arnaux；
sparring sidewise with an open wing in Pigeon style； displayed
the long array of printed records。 The man was a fancier。 His
interest was aroused； he pulled the string that shut the flying
door； and in a few minutes Arnaux was his prisoner。
The robber spread the much…inscribed wings； read record after
record； and glancing at the silver badgeit should have been
goldhe read his nameArnaux； then exclaimed： 〃Arnaux！ Arnaux！
Oh； I've heard of you； you little beauty； and it's glad I am to
trap you。〃 He snipped the message from his tail； unrolled it； and
read： 〃Arnaux left Chicago this morning at 4 A。M。； scratched in
the Any Age Sweepstakes for New York。〃
〃Six hundred miles in twelve hours！ By the powers； that's a
record…breaker。〃 And the pigeon…stealer gently； almost
reverently； put the fluttering Bird safely into a padded cage。
〃Well；〃 he added； 〃I know it's no use trying to make you stay；
but I can breed from you and have some of your strain。〃
So Arnaux was shut up in a large and comfortable loft with
several other prisoners。 The man； though a thief； was a lover of
Homers； he gave his captive everything that could insure his
comfort and safety。 For three months he left him in that loft。 At
first Arnaux did nothing all day but walk up and down the wire
screen； looking high and low for means of escape； but in the
fourth month he seemed to have abandoned the attempt； and the
watchful jailer began the second part of his scheme。 He
introduced a coy young lady Pigeon。 But it did not seem to
answer； Arnaux was not even civil to her。 After a time the jailer
removed the female； and Arnaux was left in solitary confinement
for a month。 Now a different female was brought in； but with no
better luck； and thus it went onfor a year different charmers
were introduced。 Arnaux either violently repelled them or was
scornfully indifferent； and at times the old longing to get away；
came back with twofold power； so that he darted up and down the
wire front or dashed with all his force against it。
When the storied feathers of his wings began their annual moult；
his jailer saved them as precious things； and as each new feather
came he reproduced on it the record of its owner's fame。
Two years went slowly by； and the jailer had put Arnaux in a new
loft and brought in another lady Pigeon。 By chance she closely
resembled the faithless one at home。 Arnaux actually heeded the
newcomer。 Once the jailer thought he saw his famous prisoner
paying some slight attention to the charmer； and； yes； he surely
saw her preparing a nest。 Then assuming that they had reached a
full understanding； the jailer； for the first time； opened the
outlet； and Arnaux was free。 Did he hang around in doubt？ Did he
hesitate？ No； not for one moment。 As soon as the drop of the door
left open the way； he shot through； he spread those wonderful
blazoned wings； and； with no second thought for the latest Circe；
sprang from the hated prison loftaway and away。
V
We have no means of looking into the Pigeon's mind； we may go
wrong in conjuring up for it deep thoughts of love and welcome
home； but we are safe in this； we cannot too strongly paint； we
cannot too highly praise and glorify that wonderful
God…implanted； mankind…fostered home…love that glows unquenchably
in this noble bird。 Call it what you like； a mere instinct
deliberately constructed by man for his selfish ends； explain it
away if you will； dissect it； misname it； and it still is there；
in overwhelming； imperishable master…power； as long as the brave
little heart and wings can beat。
Home； home； sweet home！ Never had mankind a stronger love of home
than Arnaux。 The trials and sorrows of the old pigeon…loft were
forgotten in that all…dominating force of his nature。 Not years
of prison bars； not later loves； nor fear of death； could down
its power； and Arnaux； had the gift of song been his； must surely
have sung as sings a hero in his highest joy； when sprang he from
the 'lighting board； up…circling free； soaring； drawn by the only
impulse that those glorious wings would honor；up； up； in
widening； heightening circles of ashy blue in the blue； flashing
those many…lettered wings of white； till they seemed like jets of
fireup and on； driven by that home…love； faithful to his only
home and to his faithless mate； closing his eyes； they say；
closing his ears； they tell； shutting his mind；we all
believe；to nearer things； to two years of his life； to one half
of his prime； but soaring in the blue； retiring； as a saint might
do； into his inner self； giving himself up to that inmost guide。
He was the captain of the ship； but the pilot； the chart and
compass； all； were that deep…implanted instinct。 One thousand
feet above the trees the inscrutable whisper came； and Arnaux in
arrowy swiftness now was pointing for the south…southeast。 The
little flashes of white fire on each side were lost in the low
sky； and the reverent robber of Syracuse saw Arnaux nevermore。
The fast express was steaming down the valley。 It was far ahead；
but Arnaux overtook and passed it； as the flying wild Duck passes
the swimming Muskrat。 High in the valleys he went； low over the
hills of Chenango； where the pines were combing the breezes。
Out from his oak…tree eyrie a Hawk came wheeling and sailing；
silent； for he had marked the Flyer； and meant him for his prey。
Arnaux turned neither right nor left； nor raised nor lowered his
flight； nor lost a wing…beat。 The Hawk was in waiting in the gap
ahead； and Arnaux passed him； even as a Deer in his prime may
pass by a Bear in his pathway。 Home！ home！ was the only burning
thought； the blinding impulse。
Beat； beat； beat； those flashing pinions went with speed
unslacked on the now familiar road。 In an hour the Catskills were
at hand。 In two hours he was passing over them。 Old friendly
places； swiftly coming now； lent more force to his wings。 Home！
home！ was the silent song that his heart was singing。 Like the
traveller dying of thirst； that sees the palm…trees far ahead；
his brilliant eyes took in the distant smoke of Manhattan。
Out fr