and after leaving
Lake Michigan, he took the straight line for Detroit. Thus he caught up
on his handicap and had the advantage of many miles. Detroit, Buffalo,
Rochester, with their familiar towers and chimneys, faded behind him,
and Syracuse was near at hand. It was now late afternoon; six hundred
miles in twelve hours he had flown and was undoubtedly leading the
race; but the usual thirst of the Flyer had attacked him. Skimming over
the city roofs, he saw a loft of 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 first Arnaux 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 the watchful jailer began the second part of his
scheme. He introduced a coy young lady Pigeon. But it did not seem to
answer; Arnaux was not even ci