“Couldn’t we kill and eat them?” replied Bobby. “Nothing like having bright ideas when you are cast away on a desert tower.”
“Your ideas may be bright enough,” laughed Laura; “but I wouldn’t care to eat pigeons raw.”
“You may be glad to before we get down from here,” returned Bobby, gloomily.
“Now that’s ridiculous,” said Mother Wit, briskly. “Don’t you begin to lose heart, Miss Hargrew.”
“I’ve as good a right as the next one,” growled Bobby.
“Speaking of pigeons,” observed Jess, ruminatively, “Chet’s carriers sometimes come up here when he lets them out. I’ve seen them.”
“My goodness me!” ejaculated Mother Wit. “Wouldn’t that be fine?”
“Wouldn’t what be fine?” queried Nellie, wiping her eyes.
“If some of Chet’s carriers would just fly up here. They know me. I’ve handled them lots of times. And we might send a note back telling Chet where we are.”
“And he’d find it tied under the pigeon’s wing in about a week,” scoffed Bobby.