do but stay around the loft and display his unlettered wings.

It is the custom of moralists to point to the lower animals, and
especially to the Pigeon, for examples of love and constancy, and
properly so, but, alas there are exceptions. Vice is not by any
means limited to the human race.

Arnaux's wife had been deeply impressed with the Big Blue, at the
outset, and at length while her spouse was absent the dreadful
thing took place.

Arnaux returned from Boston one day to find that the Big Blue,
while he retained his own Available Lady in the corner-box, had
also annexed the box and wife that belonged to himself, and a
desperate battle followed. The only spectators were the two
wives, but they maintained an indifferent aloofness. Arnaux
fought with his famous wings, but they were none the better
weapons because they now bore twenty records. His beak and feet
were small, as became his blood, and his stout little heart could
not make up for his lack of weight. The battle went against him.
His wife sat unconcernedly in the nest, as though it were not her
affair, and Arnaux might have been killed but for the timely
arrival of Billy. He was angry enough to wring the Blue bird's
neck, but the bully escaped from the loft in time. Billy took
tender care of Arnaux for a few days. At the end of a week he was
well again, and in ten days he was once more on the road.
Meanwhile he had evidently forgiven his faithless wife, for,
without any apparent feeling, he took up his nesting as before.
That month he made two new records. He brought a message ten
miles in eight minutes, and he came from Boston in four hours.