Arnaux 
Arnaux’s brother Arnolf, with three fine records 
on his wings, was thus murdered in the act of 
bearing a hasty summons for the doctor. As he 
fell dying at the gunner’s feet, his superb wings 
spread out displayed his list of victories. The 
silver badge on his leg was there, and the 
gunner was smitten with remorse. He had the 
message sent on; he returned the dead bird to 
the Homing Club, saying that he “found it.” 
The owner came to see him; the gunner broke 
down under cross-examination, and was forced 
to admit that he himself had shot the Homer, 
but did so in behalf of a poor sick neighbor 
who craved a pigeon-pie. 
There were tears in the wrath of the pigeon- 
man. “ My bird, my beautiful Arnolf, twenty 
times has he brought vital messages, three 
times has he made records, twice has he saved 
human lives, and you ’d shoot him for a pot-pie. 
I could punish you under the law, but I have 
no heart for such a poor revenge. I only ask 
you this, if ever again you have a sick neighbor 
who wants a pigeon-pie, come, we ’ll freely sup- 
ply him with pie-breed squabs; but if you have 
a trace of manhood about you, you will never, 
89 
—— 
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