“Perhaps, now, my Uncle Job won’t be tickled half to death to get hold of this telltale message!” he gurgled. “If only he can find who wrote the same, it’ll turn out to be his Waterloo, believe me, if half I’ve heard about Uncle Job is true.”
“And that ought to be easy,” remarked Jack.
“You mean, he could tell from the handwriting?” Harry demanded.
“Yes, but there would be a better way than that,” the other scout continued, as he gave Ned a knowing nod.
“’Tis the pigeon, you must mean!” exclaimed Jimmy.
“That’s it,” Jack acknowledged, “and surely a fellow couldn’t keep birds like that and set one flying every once in so often, without others knowing about it. Find the puncher who’s got the homing pigeon fancy and you’ll have the leader of the spies at the Double Cross, if that’s where the bird started from.”
The scout master nodded his head approvingly.
“That was well figured out, Jack,” he said, “and did your scout logic credit. A scout has got to keep his wits sharpened and not let anything slip past him, no matter how small it may seem. Of course, the owner of the pigeon must be guilty; and, just as you say, it wouldn’t be easy for him to carry on with his birds unless most of the other punchers knew about it.”
“But the message?” Jimmy objected.
“Oh! they didn’t see this one, but another that the fellow would be smart enough to get up, and pretend to fasten to the leg of the air traveler,” Jack went on to say, in a way that showed how his mind had grasped the subject.