“A carrier pigeon?” cried several.
“Yes, a friend of mine, who is interested in aeronautics, and who published a magazine about them, asked me to do this for him. He gave me a carrier pigeon a few days ago, and requested me to release it on our trial trip. I said I would, and now I am going to send him a message of our success. The bird will fly directly to his coop, and later, when I give him the time we liberated it, and he notes the time of arrival, he can figure the speed.”
“Good!” cried Dave. “Where is the pigeon?”
It was brought out in the basket where it had been held captive, and Mr. Dale, who understood such matters, prepared a short message on thin paper. The paper was put in a quill, sealed at both ends, and then tied by silk thread to one of the pigeon’s wings.
The bird was taken to the deck of the craft and liberated. It soared high in the air, circled about once or twice and, then even in that void, seeming to get its bearings, it darted off to the south.
“Later we will learn how my friend received the message,” said Mr. Dale. “And now I think we had better change our course.”
The Albatross lined the coast a few miles to the interior. Until dusk Dave and the others viewed a constantly changing panorama. Then there was supper, a bountiful meal, well prepared, and immensely relished by all hands.
After that lights were set, the big headlights, front and rear, sending out far-reaching shafts of radiance that must have appeared to uninitiated landsmen as streaming meteors.
Mr. King was in the cabin when the electric call bell took him to the speaking tube. He dropped it as if some important message called him instantly to the pilot room.
His manner and face indicated to the young aviator that whatever message he had received had urged him to seriousness and haste.