“What’s that on your—A message!” Nat interrupted himself. “Looks like it. Here, Gabriel, let me get that note off your leg,” and he proceeded to untie from the bird’s foot a scrap of paper.
“Thought so,” went on the boy, as if the bird had been taking a more active part in the conversation than that of fluttering its wings and cooing happily. “A message—from—Let me see,” and Nat sat down on the edge of the scratch box.
“This is a scrawl, too scrawly for me, I’m afraid. That’s ‘c-o-me’ come,” and he peered through the thin paper at the indistinct letters. “And next is s-w-a-mp, swamp. ‘Come swamp.’ That’s it, all right. It’s a message telling us to go to the swamp,” and Nat jumped up, delighted to have deciphered the queer note.
“Maybe it’s signed,” he reflected, looking over the paper again carefully. “Yes, there’s a letter, and it’s a ‘U,’ u for—for—why, Urania, of course,” he decided instantly. “Well, we’ll go to the swamp, Urania, and see what’s doin’ there. I had an idea right along that we might find the pigeons around the swamp.”
The pigeon was now strutting around in its own confident way, as if the hardships through which it had so lately passed were all forgotten, and only the freedom of the Cedars, with all the good “pickings” and the brook berries to nibble at, were now questions to be considered.
“Go ahead, Gabriel, help yourself. Take more and plenty of it,” said Nat, as he started off.
Nat was not long in reaching the house and making his find known to the folks there. Dorothy read and re-read the message that the bird had brought, and declared she had been positive all along that a clue to the two burglaries would come through Urania.
“Now, that’s what I call good, sensible telepathy,” said Tavia, when her turn came ’round to read the wonder note. “Pencil and paper and a few words—even though they be rather—well, I should call them ‘spooky,’” and she smoothed the bit of precious paper out carefully on the palm of her hand.
“But what’s the answer?” demanded Ned. “Why should the girl order us to the swamp? Couldn’t she as well come here and put us next the game?”
“No,” answered Dorothy decisively. “I have been trying to get a word with Urania for the last two days—since the night the silver was stolen, and every time I see her, she darts away like a wild deer. She seems afraid to speak to me, as if some one were watching her.”