Schneider had been detailed by Roque to keep an eye on the boys, but Henri felt sure that this firebrand would not be interested in pigeons, save in a potpie, so he suggested the "shaking" process.
Trained in the sense of location by their aviation experience, the boys proceeded without difficulty to the sparsely settled neighborhood of the red-roof, which they found to be in the center of a neglected garden, overgrown with weeds.
"Don't see any pigeon loft yet?"
Having been a fancier himself, Billy knew how the birds were housed.
"You might also say that you don't see any pigeons," added Henri. "We've surely run by the station."
"Not on a little excursion like this," maintained Billy. "This is no ghost story."
With the words he led the way up the long gravel walk extending from the rusty iron gate to the front of the house.
"What will we tell them?" he asked, reaching for the brass knocker on the dingy door of the dwelling.
"How will it do to say we are from the gas office?"