darling!" and Arnaux's owner danced, more for joy in his bird
than in the purse he had won.

The men sat or kneeled and watched him in positive reverence as
he gulped a quantity of water, then turned to the food-trough.

"Look at that eye, those wings, and did you ever see such a
breast? Oh, but he's the real grit!" so his owner prattled to
the silent ones whose birds had been defeated.

That was the first of Arnaux's exploits. Best of fifty birds from
a good loft, his future was bright with promise.

He was invested with the silver anklet of the Sacred Order of the
High Homer. It bore his number, 2590 C, a number which to-day
means much to all men in the world of the Homing Pigeon.

In that trial flight from Elizabeth only forty birds had
returned. It is usually so. Some were weak and got left behind,
some were foolish and strayed. By this simple process of flight
selection the pigeon-owners keep improving their stock. Of the
ten, five were seen no more, but five returned later that day,
not all at once, but straggling in; the last of the loiterers was
a big, lubberly Blue Pigeon. The man in the loft at the time
called: "Here comes that old sap-headed Blue that Jakey was
betting on. I didn't suppose he would come back, and I didn't
care, neither, for it's my belief he has a streak of Pouter."

The Big Blue, also called "Corner-box" from the nest where he was
hatched, had shown remarkable vigor from the first. Though all