in. Some one in B-Boston gave her to him when she
was a baby."

"Oh, yes! I remember now. I've heard father tell of meeting Swithin
riding out from Boston, with a keg of rum in one saddle bag, and out of
the other was sticking the head of a three-year-old nigger."

"Here comes a flight. Send up your long flyer, Amos."

Amos threw the flyer up. We watched the pigeons. They seemed to be
coming toward us.

"Now send up the short flyers."

"They're coming to us. Pull the flyers down and keep hidden. Pull away
at the string, Ben, and work the pole, so that the hoverer will keep his
wings fluttering. Keep on, Ben. They see him."

The pigeons flew toward the flutterer, made a swirl in the air, and
began to light on the pigeon pole. We took up our guns, and as they were
hovering about the pole, trying to get a foothold, we fired, and ran
out and picked up twenty-nine pigeons.

"That isn't bad," said Davy. "I tell you, Pigeon Tuesday is the day.
There will be more along soon."

The sky was all crimson and gold in the east. We looked toward Mt.
Gilboa; the red face of the sun began to show itself. As it rose above
the hill, we heard the stroke of the bell.

"Some one's d-dead.--Hark! Only one stroke. It's a child. One for a
c-child, two for a woman, and three strokes for a man."

"I know who it is. Father was called up to Sam Hadley's last night.
Little Benoni Mead was very poorly, and they didn't think he'd last
through the night."

Poor little Benoni! His father, Cornelius Mead, had died of camp fever
in the war; his mother and he had come on the town for support, and had
been boarded with her brother, Sam Hadley, not far from Bull Meadow
Hill. Benoni had always been ailing, and of late had failed rapidly.

[Sidenote: ANOTHER FLIGHT OF PIGEONS]

"Well, boys," said Davy, "let's get back to work. It won't do Benoni any
good to be mooning round."

We watched for pigeons again, and another small flight came along. We
worked our decoys and got twenty.

After that we waited a long time,--till nearly nine o'clock. Then Davy
and I gave it up, and decided to go home. Davy had some work to do. But
Amos said he would stay a little while longer. We made a division of our
pigeons, and Davy and I started for home.

We had not gone more than half a mile when we saw a terrible big flight.

"I wonder if Amos will get a shot at them, Ben. Let's get back as quick
as we can. We may be in time."

We threw down our pigeons, an