"Somewhere about here must be the pigeon loft where those homing birds have been bred," suggested Jack, following up a train of thought.
"Yes, it may be on the flat roof of the château, or in the barn at the rear," Tom admitted. "One thing is certain, they know only this place as home; and wherever they're set free their first instinct is to strike a bee-line for here. Some people are so foolish as to fancy homers can be sent anywhere; but that's silly. It's only home that they're able to head straight toward, even if hundreds of miles away."
"Oh Tom! how about Bessie?" inquired Jack eagerly.
His chum considered, while he rubbed his chin with thumb and finger in a thoughtful way he had when a little puzzled.
"It might be done in a pinch," he finally muttered.
"What, Tom?"
"She's such a little mite that her weight wouldn't amount to much, if only she had the nerve to do it, Jack."
"Do you mean that you'd be willing to carry Bessie off with us? To help her escape from her guardian? I'm sure he must be treating her badly, or else she wouldn't be sobbing her poor little heart out, as we heard her."
"That would have to depend a whole lot on Bessie."
"As far as that goes I know she's a gritty little person," Jack instantly remarked. "Many times she said to me she wished she were a boy so that she might also learn to fly and fight for France against the detested Kaiser. Why, she even told me she had gone up with an aviator who exhibited down at a Florida resort, one having a hydro-airplane in which he took people up. And Bessie declared she didn't have the least fear."