“Going to alight,” Curlie shouted to Jerry.
“Absolutely.”
“I’m going to land with him. There’s a cabin down there by the river. Seen it many times. Who lives there?”
“Don’t know.”
“May be a partner to that man of the ‘Gray Streak.’”
“Absolutely.”
“We’ll see about it.”
“Absolutely, son. Absolutely.”
Graceful as the bird itself, the plane sank lower and lower, went bump, bump, bump three times, and glided away on an unmarked field of glistening snow.
Ten minutes after this landing they were approaching the cabin. The carrier pigeon was nowhere to be seen.