Pigeons, and descending from his high course in two or three
great circles, he followed the ingoing Birds to the loft and
drank greedily at the water-trough, as he had often done before,
and as every pigeon-lover hospitably expects the messengers to
do. The owner of the loft was there and noted the strange Bird.
He stepped quietly to where he could inspect him. One of his own
Pigeons made momentary opposition to the stranger, and Arnaux,
sparring sidewise with an open wing in Pigeon style, displayed
the long array of printed records. The man was a fancier. His
interest was aroused; he pulled the string that shut the flying
door, and in a few minutes Arnaux was his prisoner.

The robber spread the much-inscribed wings, read record after
record, and glancing at the silver badge--it should have been
gold--he read his name--Arnaux; then exclaimed: "Arnaux! Arnaux!
Oh, I've heard of you, you little beauty, and it's glad I am to
trap you." He snipped the message from his tail, unrolled it, and
read: "Arnaux left Chicago this morning at 4 A.M., scratched in
the Any Age Sweepstakes for New York."

"Six hundred miles in twelve hours! By the powers, that's a
record-breaker." And the pigeon-stealer gently, almost
reverently, put the fluttering Bird safely into a padded cage.
"Well," he added, "I know it's no use trying to make you stay,
but I can breed from you and have some of your strain."

So Arnaux was shut up in a large and comfortable loft with
several other prisoners. The man, though a thief, was a lover of
Homers; he gave his captive everything that could insure his
comfort and safety. For three months he left him in that loft. At