CHAPTER II
THE WINGED MESSENGER
"What do you call this, Tom? A queer sort of crow, I'd say. Looks moreto me like the blue-rock pigeons Sam Becker used to raise at home," andso saying Jack held up the still quivering bunch of feathers.
Tom took one quick look, and then a startled expression flitted acrosshis face.
"Just what it is, Jack!" he hastened to say. "A homing pigeon in thebargain! You can tell that from the bill and the ring around the eyes."
Jack in turn became aroused.
"A homing pigeon, is it?" he ejaculated. "Why, birds like that are usedfor carrying messages across the lines! Some of our airplane pilots havetold me that sometimes they take a French spy far back of the Germanfront. When he had made an important discovery he would write a messagein cipher, enclose it in a tiny waterproof capsule attached to a ringabout the pigeon's leg, and set the bird free. Inside of half an hour itwould be safe back in its loft, and the message on the way to Frenchheadquarters."
He lifted one limp leg, and then the other.
"Look here, it's got a message, as sure as anything!" Jack exclaimed.
Tom leaned forward and took the bird in his hand, dropping the gunmeanwhile. He carefully took off the gelatine capsule, and from itextracted a delicate piece of tough paper, which he spread open. Therewere a series of strange marks on the paper, of which neither of the airservice boys could make anything.
"Looks like hieroglyphics, such as you'd expect to find on an Egyptiantomb or in the burial places under the pyramids," complained Jack, afterhe had stared at the lines in disgust for a brief period of time.
"It's a cipher of some kind," explained Tom, seriously. "With the keyall this would resolve itself into some sort of communication, Isuppose, connected with valuable information concerning the Frencharmies here at Verdun."
"Then it was made by a spy!"
"No question about that part of it," came the ready reply.
"This carrier pigeon with this message, was on its way across to somepoint in the rear of the enemy line when you fired, and brought the poorlittle thing down in a quivering heap, I'm sure that's it," continuedthe other.
"Yes. And so after all it's turned out to be a lucky thing you chancedto see the bird coming along, Jack, and begged me to knock it down so wecould show some sort of game when we got back to camp."
"What ought we do with this message?" asked Jack, accustomed todepending on his more energetic chum in many cases; though when left tohis own resources he could think for himself, as had frequently beenproved.
"I shall see that it gets to French headquarters, with an account of thesingular way we ran across it," Tom told him.
"Do you think it would be possible for any one there to translate thiscipher of the German secret code?"
"Why not?" Tom demanded. "They are clever people, these wideawakeFrench, and I shouldn't be at all surprised if they turned this incidentto some good use."
"How?"
"Oh, it could be done in many ways. Suppose they found the key to thecode. Don't you see how a fictitious message could be sent on in someway, if they could bag another pigeon from the same coop? They mighteven coax the Germans to deliver a furious attack at a supposed weakplace in the line, which would of course be heavily guarded."
"That would be something worth while!" exclaimed the other with glowingeyes. "Lead them into a trap, where they would be mowed down like ripegrain, terrible as that sounds!"
"Yes, that's the idea I had in mind. But it would depend on severalthings. First of all would come the successful solving of this ciphercode."
"Yes, and then the finding of another homing pigeon," added Jack. "Iwonder if the fellow who released that bird could have a lot more of thesame kind hidden away somewhere around back here."
"I was just going to suggest that we take a turn toward the south, andlook around a bit before going back to camp. Do you feel equal to it,Jack?"
"What, me! Tom? Why, I'm as fresh as a daisy! This business has made meforget there's such a thing as getting tired walking."
"Let's see, we stood here when I fired," continued Tom reflectively,"and you walked straight to where the bird dropped. That would make thedirection due northwest by southeast. How about that, Jack?"
The other took a survey, and then pointed with his hand.
"When I saw the bird coming first of all, Tom," he finally remarked, "itwas just showing up over that clump of trees killed by gunfire. And itwas heading as straight as can be for us."
"Yes," Tom went on to say, "because a homing pigeon on being releasedwill rise to a certain height and take its bearings. Then it starts in abee-line for its loft, whether that is five miles away or hundreds ofmiles. Some peculiar instinct tells it in which way home lies. It seldomif ever goes astray. Sometimes birds have made a thousand miles, andshown up at their home coop days after being set free."
"Well, then, the man who threw it into the air, after fastening thiscipher message to it, must be over to the southeast of us," affirmedJack.
"The bird was released within five minutes or so of the time I fired,"Tom told his chum. "It's even possible the spy may have heard the reportof my gun."
"Tom, why not try to capture that spy?" asked Jack, eagerly, ready forany sort of excitement.
The young aviators started off, walking briskly. They kept their eyesalertly open as they proceeded. At the same time, on Tom's suggestion,they continued to act as though still looking for game, eveninvestigating at a burrow that certainly was used by rabbits, as thetracks plainly indicated.
Tom never deviated from a direct line due southeast. He knew that theirbest chance of making a valuable discovery lay in finding the placewhere the carrier pigeon had been released, to fly across the lines toits home loft. This might be many miles to the rear of the fightingfront, even on Lorraine territory, in the neighborhood of the fortifiedcity of Metz itself.
The two passed over a mile without making any sort of discovery, Jack,who did not possess quite as determined a nature as his comrade, wasalready commencing to make certain sounds akin to complainings, asthough he felt keenly disgruntled because of their lack of success.
"Guess we'll have to give it up, Tom," he finally remarked.
"Wait," said Tom. "Before doing that let's investigate that oldshattered farmhouse over yonder."
"Hello!" exclaimed Jack, plucking up some fresh interest, "have youlocated one of those remains of a building, then? I was coming tobelieve there wasn't so much as a broken wall left standing for a spaceof five square miles, so complete has been the destruction. But I seewhat you mean, Tom."
They walked ahead again, and approached the ruined farmhouse. It hadbeen riddled through and through by shot and shell. Three-fourths of theoriginal building lay in piles, the stones heaped up as they had fallen.
"Queer, isn't it, that the kitchen part escaped the smashing fire, andstill stands," observed Jack. "I warrant you this is the only part of abuilding left around here. Tom, would our spy be likely to take up hisheadquarters in such a place as this, do you think?"
"I don't know," came the answer. "We can soon find out."
"He might feel desperate enough to open fire on us," suggested Jack,though he did not shrink or hold back when Tom advanced; for Jack Parmlydid not have a drop of cowardly blood in his veins.
Tom turned and waved his hand as though beckoning to others who might becoming after them. He even called out in his best French, as if therewere a dozen back of him, that there was a possibility of securing atleast a drink of cold water at the old-fashioned well with a sweep thatstood near the kitchen of the ruined farmhouse.
"Good idea, Tom!" commented the other, chuckling with amusement. "If hegets the notion in his head that we are legion he won't be so apt toblaze away at us, knowing it would mean a short shrift for him. He mayprefer to play the poor French peasant part, and try to pull the woolover our eyes."
Presently they arrived at the door. It was hanging from one hinge, andthe e
ntire place presented a vivid picture of the utter desolation cruelwar always brings in its train.
Tom's first act before entering was to look down at the ground justbefore the door. Some intuition told him that if the place had beenrecently occupied they would possibly find some evidences of the fact inthe earth.
"See there, Jack!" he suddenly exclaimed, as he pointed down close tohis feet. "Fresh tracks, and made by a man's shoes in the bargain!"
"Some one has been in here for a fact, Tom, and I wouldn't be afraid towager he saw us coming and cleared out in a hurry. He could have skirtedthose bushes, and got clear easy enough. Do you think it could have beenthe same chap who freed that pigeon?"
"No doubt about it," and Tom, stooping, picked up some small object."See, here's a feather that was sticking to that dead weed. It's from abird of the same color as the pigeon, perhaps from the very one I've gotin my pocket."
"That settles it," snapped the pleased Jack. "I must say you're a cleverhand at finding these things out. I'd have never dreamed of looking downat my feet, but blundered right into the shack to see if----Oh! What doyou think of the luck we're in this day, Tom? See what stands there onthat poor old three-legged table!"
Jack's excitement was natural, as Tom readily understood when he looked;for there was a small basket or cage made from oziers or willow wands;and inside this they could see two blue gray homing pigeons, mates tothe one Tom had shot only a short time before!