“There’s something,” spoke Hiram in a hoarse whisper, as a queer cooing sound came from the watched room. “Gently, now,” he added and crept through the doorway.
There was a fluttering sound. Dave traced it to a corner of the room where there were some boxes. The noise came from behind them. He groped with his hand, and his fingers finally grazed a feathery, shrinking object.
“Flare a light,” he called out instantly. “I’ve caught the stowaway.”
“Who is it? what is it?” cried Hiram, rushing forward as the electric lights were turned on.
“Why, it’s a bird—a pigeon,” announced Dave, dragging into view a ruffled, timid dove. “Here’s your mystery explained. The bird must have been driven through the broken window during that storm the other night. The poor thing was famished and ate the beans. Then it cracked the window panes trying to get out again.”
“You’ve got it, Dave,” declared Hiram, “only, say, what is that fastened under its wing?”
“Why, sure enough,” said Dave, observing what looked like an oilskin package fastened with silk cord under the wing of the bird. “Fellows, this must be a carrier dove. We must see Mr. King about this.”
The airman inspected the oilskin package. He read a written enclosure it contained.
“This is a trained passenger pigeon,” he said. “Started from Rio de Janeiro and carrying a message to its former home in Washington. Feed up the bird, boys, and we’ll send the brave little thing again on its journey.”
The next morning when the carrier pigeon was set free, started landwards, it bore a second message. This told the world that the giant airship was eight hundred miles on its trip across the broad Atlantic.