THE CARRIER PIGEONS’ FLIGHT
“A letter!” cried Emma. “Isn’t this perfectly romantic?”
“If it is a letter, it’s a crumby looking one,” observed Hippy.
“Tom, hold that lantern so I can see.”
The Overlanders crowded up closer, with Bindloss in the forefront,
the cowpunchers peering over their heads and shoulders, as Hippy
began to unfold a sheet that had once been wrapping paper. One keen
look at it and Lieutenant Wingate uttered a yell and began hopping
up and down with most of his weight on one foot.
“Chunky! It’s from Chunky,” he cried.
“Read it! This suspense is killing me,” wailed Emma.
“It is addressed to the Overlanders and to Joe Bindloss. He spells
it ‘Bindlass,’ and—”
“Never mind the spelling. Read it!” urged Miss Briggs.
“And it reads as follows,” continued Hippy.
“‘Dear Folks: You’ll be surprised to hear from me, and more
so to hear that I’m in Dutch. I’m in the hands of a gang of
ruffians—gentlemen—’ The word ruffians has been crossed out and
the word gentlemen added,” explained Hippy.
“You are the most aggravating person I ever knew. Will you please
read that letter or let me do it for you?” begged Miss Briggs.
“‘They caught me with a rope when I wasn’t looking, down by the
round-up, and I’ve stayed caught. They know that I’m valuable and
they want a price for me,’” continued Hippy, reading Stacy’s scrawl
with considerable difficulty. “‘If they don’t get it they propose to
throw me off the mountain into the red gulch just back of the cabin
that I’m in. They want five hundred dollars for me and you’re to
send it by the birds that they are going to send with this letter.
Put only one bill on each bird’s leg because they’re union birds and
won’t carry a man-sized load. I don’t know how or where they got the
birds, but they’ve got ’em. I know because I’ve seen ’em. When they
get the money they are going to take me to the foothills and kick me
out, but if they don’t get it I’m to go out the way I told you.
Please hurry. I haven’t had a square meal since I got tangled up
with that fellow’s rope, but the scenery certainly is fine up here.
Help! Help! Help!
“(Signed) ‘Lovingly, Stacy.’”
[Illustration: “It’s from Chunky!”]
“‘P.S. If you try to find me they say they will throw me over
anyway. If you haven’t big enough bills, for the love of heaven keep
on sending small ones so long as the birds hold out, but send them!’
“‘P.P.S. The beans they are feeding me on up here are awful, but the
coffee is worse. S.B.’
“‘P.P.P.S. They say they are going to send this by rural free
delivery, but if it’s as slow as it is back home I won’t need any
help by the time it reaches you. For heaven sake, feed the birds and
give them plenty of pepper, so they’ll have pep and hustle—’”
The message broke off suddenly as if the writer had been
interrupted, at least that was the way the Overlanders construed it.
“Gosh a-mighty! If that ain’t the limit!” exclaimed Bindloss. “How
can those birds carry money or anything else, and how will they get
back where the robbers want them to go?”
Tom Gray explained that carrier pigeons carried messages in little
oiled paper tubes such as these birds had on their legs, and that
when released they got their direction quickly and flew straight
back to their cotes.
“I know! I know,” exclaimed Bindloss. “A fellow over at Carrago had
a flock of ’em, but the government took ’em over after the war
started. They paid him five dollars a head for the birds, then,
after the war, what was left of ’em he bought back from the
government at twenty-five cents a head.”
“There’s our clue,” interrupted Hippy. “Should we fail otherwise we
can find out who the pigeon man is. But I don’t reckon we shall need
to do that. Folks, what is your idea?”
“I shouldn’t be in favor of paying five hundred dollars for Stacy,”
objected Emma. “If they keep him long enough to get really
acquainted with him they will be glad to take a bargain-counter
price for him.”
Bindloss suggested that they go into the house, and Tom asked him to
invite Idaho and Pete to go in with them, which was done. Sam
Conifer met them on the porch, and his first question was whether or
not they had heard from Jim. The situation was quickly explained to
him. When informed that there was no news from the missing Jim, the
guide’s whiskers drooped.
“I reckon Jim’s thar, but they wouldn’t let the boy writ ’bout it,”
he exclaimed, his whiskers suddenly bristling as of old. “I’ll git
’em! They’ve played a card into my hands now!” he raged. “I’ll
follow ’em now.”
“Are you going to fly, Sam?” questioned Emma. “That is the only way
I know of to follow birds.”
It was a poser. Two-gun Pete asked if he might make a suggestion.
His suggestion was that they liberate a bird and watch its
direction, then follow out that direction until they finally found
the hiding place of the rustlers.
“Peter, you sure have brains,” complimented Hippy.
“I love a man with brains,” bubbled Emma, amid smiles and nods, all
of which embarrassed Two-gun very much.
“That’s the idea,” cried Tom. “Has anyone additional suggestions to
make?”
“I have,” answered Miss Briggs. “Peter has given us something to
work from, and all it needs is elaboration. See what you think of
this. Give a bird five dollars and liberate him just after daylight,
as they used to do in France. Watch the course he takes, then let
our men take up positions on that course as nearly in line with the
bird’s flight as possible, lining up about a mile apart. At a
certain hour we will free a second bird, also with a five-dollar
bill. One of our men on the lookout will surely see it. The ruffians
may be a long way from here, but so long as the bird’s course can be
kept in sight, its home roost can be found.”
“Good generalship,” agreed Tom, nodding.
“Right you are,” approved Bindloss. “But five dollars! I don’t like
to give them robbers even five cents.”
“Sam, do you feel equal to going with us?” asked Grace, turning to
the old guide.
“I’m goin’, an’ I ain’t comin’ back till I gits Jim,” he answered
grimly.
“Five dollars sent out with each bird won’t break us. That will make
sixty dollars if we send out the entire dozen, which is a pretty
high price to pay for Chunky,” declared Emma.
The Overlanders rebuked her, and after further discussion it was
decided to liberate the first bird at daybreak and a second bird at
noon. As soon as the first carrier gave them the direction, the men
were to proceed singly into the hills, going with as much secrecy
and caution as possible, take up positions and await the noon bird.
Miss Briggs suggested that the men arrange to get in touch with each
other at the end of the first hour following the passage of each
bird, and that the first to discover the hiding place of the
rustlers was to go back and wait for his companions so that they
might attack in force.
“Gosh a-mighty!” cried Joe Bindloss. “Is there anything that you
folks can’t do?”
“One bird every two hours after twelve and up to four, then send all
but two between that and six,” suggested Hippy. “Better keep two
over. Send a message with the last bird that the last two birds of
the lot will be liberated in the morning, as soon as the rest of the
money can be procured. Now who is going? I, for one, am going out.”
Every person present volunteered, but it was finally settled that
Sam, Pete, Idaho, Tom Gray and Hippy should go. Sam insisted on
taking the lead, and the position was assigned to him. Bindloss and
some of his men were to remain at the ranch-house to guard against a
possible raid.
The party soon thereafter turned in for what rest they could get,
but first the birds were put in a larger basket so that they might
be more comfortable and rest up for the journey ahead of them.
The ranch-house inhabitants were astir before daylight next morning.
Food was given to the birds as soon as day dawned, and a tube packed
with a five-dollar bill and a brief message that the money would be
sent along as rapidly as possible was attached to a pigeon’s leg.
The sun was rising when Tom Gray brought out the first pigeon that
was to make the flight.
“The dove of peace! What?” chuckled Tom, tossing the bird into the
air.
The carrier pigeon fluttered about with rapidly beating wings for a
few seconds, then began circling upwards, taking wider and wider
circles as it rose, every eye eagerly fixed on it. The Overlanders
had thought that its direction would be east, but suddenly the bird
straightened out, taking a course a little south of west, heading
for the Coso Mountains.
“Everyone watch him!” urged Tom.
Grace and Elfreda were following the flight with their glasses, but
the keen eyes of the ranchers needed no such aid, and readily
followed the flight until the bird had disappeared over a mountain.
“I got it!” shouted Sam.
“So hev I,” announced Pete. “Got the landmarks daid to rights. Be ye
ready, Sam?”
Sam was, and after an uneasy half hour’s wait he rode off to the
south, jogging along slowly. He was followed after an interval by
Lieutenant Wingate, and following him were Tom Gray, Two-gun Pete
and Idaho in the order named. Each man knew that he might expect to
be shot from ambush, but the opportunity to meet up with the
mountain ruffians outweighed all other considerations.
In a short time all were out of sight, and the party left at the
ranch settled down to wait for the hour when they were to liberate
another pigeon, and at the same time to listen with straining ears
for the sound of firing in the hills, which each one momentarily
expected to hear.