Arnaux 
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, un- 
rolled 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 com- 
fortable 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 first Ar- 
naux did nothing all day but walk up and 
down the wire screen, looking high and low 
for means of escape; but in the fourth month 
he seemed to have abandoned the attempt, and 
96 
