sprang　from　the　hated　prison　loftaway　and　away。
  V
  We　have　no　means　of　looking　into　the　Pigeon's　mind；　we　may　go
  wrong　in　conjuring　up　for　it　deep　thoughts　of　love　and　welcome
  home；　but　we　are　safe　in　this；　we　cannot　too　strongly　paint；　we
  cannot　too　highly　praise　and　glorify　that　wonderful
  God…implanted；　mankind…fostered　home…love　that　glows　unquenchably
  in　this　noble　bird。　Call　it　what　you　like；　a　mere　instinct
  deliberately　constructed　by　man　for　his　selfish　ends；　explain　it
  away　if　you　will；　dissect　it；　misname　it；　and　it　still　is　there；
  in　overwhelming；　imperishable　master…power；　as　long　as　the　brave
  little　heart　and　wings　can　beat。
  Home；　home；　sweet　home！　Never　had　mankind　a　stronger　love　of　home
  than　Arnaux。　The　trials　and　sorrows　of　the　old　pigeon…loft　were
  forgotten　in　that　　　all…dominating　force　of　his　nature。　Not　years
  of　prison　bars；　not　later　loves；　nor　fear　of　death；　could　down
  its　power；　and　Arnaux；　had　the　gift　of　song　been　his；　must　surely
  have　sung　as　sings　a　hero　in　his　highest　joy；　when　sprang　he　from
  the　'lighting　board；　up…circling　free；　soaring；　drawn　by　the　only
  impulse　that　those　glorious　wings　would　honor；up；　up；　in
  widening；　heightening　circles　of　ashy　blue　in　the　blue；　flashing
  those　many…lettered　wings　of　white；　till　they　seemed　like　jets　of
  fireup　and　on；　driven　by　that　home…love；　faithful　to　his　only
  home　and　to　his　faithless　mate；　closing　his　eyes；　they　say；
  closing　his　ears；　they　tell；　shutting　his　mind；we　all
  believe；to　nearer　things；　to　two　years　of　his　life；　to　one　half
  of　his　prime；　but　soaring　in　the　blue；　retiring；　as　a　saint　might
  do；　into　his　inner　self；　giving　himself　up　to　that　inmost　guide。
  He　was　the　captain　of　the　ship；　but　the　pilot；　the　chart　and
  compass；　all；　were　that　deep…implanted　instinct。　One　thousand
  feet　above　the　trees　the　inscrutable　whisper　came；　and　Arnaux　in
  arrowy　swiftness　now　was　pointing　for　the　south…southeast。　The
  little　flashes　of　white　fire　on　each　side　were　lost　in　the　low
  sky；　and　the　reverent　robber　of　Syracuse　saw　Arnaux　nevermore。
  The　fast　express　was　steaming　down　the　valley。　It　was　far　ahead；
  but　Arnaux　overtook　and　passed　it；　as　the　flying　wild　Duck　passes
  the　swimming　Muskrat。　High　in　the　valleys　he　went；　low　over　the
  hills　of　Chenango；　where　the　pines　were　combing　the　breezes。
  Out　from　his　oak…tree　eyrie　a　Hawk　came　wheeling　and　sailing；
  silent；　for　he　had　marked　the　Flyer；　and　meant　him　for　his　prey。
  Arnaux　turned　neither　right　nor　left；　nor　raised　nor　lowered　his
  flight；　nor　lost　a　wing…beat。　The　Hawk　was　in　waiting　in　the　gap
  ahead；　and　Arnaux　passed　him；　even　as　a　Deer　in　his　prime　may
  pass　by　a　Bear　in　his　pathway。　Home！　home！　was　the　only　burning
  thought；　the　blinding　impulse。
  Beat；　beat；　beat；　those　flashing　pinions　went　with　speed
  unslacked　on　the　now　familiar　road。　In　an　hour　the　Catskills　were
  at　hand。　In　two　hours　he　was　passing　over　them。　Old　friendly
  places；　swiftly　coming　now；　lent　more　force　to　his　wings。　Home！
  home！　was　the　silent　song　that　his　heart　was　singing。　Like　the
  traveller　dying　of　thirst；　that　sees　the　palm…trees　far　ahead；
  his　brilliant　eyes　took　in　the　distant　smoke　of　Manhattan。
  Out　from　the　crest　of　the　Catskills　there　launched　a　Falcon。
  Swiftest　of　the　race　of　rapine；　proud　of　his　strength；　proud　of
  his　wings；　he　rejoiced　in　a　worthy　prey。　Many　and　many　a　Pigeon
  had　been　borne　to　his　nest；　and　riding　the　wind　he　came；
  swooping；　reserving　his　strength；　awaiting　the　proper　time。　Oh；
  how　well　he　knew　the　very　moment！　Down；　down　like　a　flashing
  javelin；　no　wild　Duck；　no　Hawk　could　elude　him；　for　this　was　a
  Falcon。　Turn　back　now；　O　Homer；　and　save　yourself；　go　round　the
  dangerous　hills。　Did　he　turn？　Not　a　whit！　for　this　was　Arnaux。
  Home！　home！　home！　was　his　only　thought。　To　meet　the　danger；　he
  merely　added　to　his　speed；　and　the　Peregrine　stooped；　stooped　at
  what？a　flashing　of　color；　a　twinkling　of　whitenessand　went
  back　empty。　While　Arnaux　cleft　the　air　of　the　valley　as　a　stone
  from　a　sling；　to　be　losta　white…winged　birda　spot　with
  flashing　haloand；　quickly；　a　speck　in　the　offing。　On　down　the
  dear　valley　of　Hudson；　the　well…known　highway；　for　two　years　he
  had　not　seen　it！　Now　he　dropped　low　as　the　noon　breeze　came　north
  and　ruffled　the　river　below　him。　Home！　home！　home！　and　the　towers
  of　a　city　are　coming　in　view！　Home！　home！　past　the　great
  spider…bridge　of　Poughkeepsie；　skimming；　skirting　the
  river…banks。　Low　now　by　the　bank　as　the　wind　arose。　Low；　alas！
  too　low！
  What　fiend　was　it　tempted　a　gunner　in　June　to　lurk　on　that　hill
  by　the　margin？　what　devil　directed　his　gaze　to　the　twinkling　of
  white　that　came　from　the　blue　to　the　northward？　Oh；　Arnaux；
  Arnaux；　skimming　low；　forget　not　the　gunner　of　old！　Too　low；　too
  low　you　are　clearing　that　hill。　Too　lowtoo　late！　　Flashbang！
  and　the　death…hail　has　reached　him；　reached；　maimed；　but　not
  downed　him。　Out　of　the　flashing　pinions　broken　feathers　printed
  with　records　went　fluttering　earthward。　The　〃naught〃　of　his　sea
  record　was　gone。　Not　two　hundred　and　ten；　but　twenty…one　miles　it
  now　read。　Oh；　shameful　pillage！　A　dark　stain　appeared　on　his
  bosom；　but　Arnaux　kept　on。　Home；　home；　homeward　bound。　The　danger
  was　past　in　an　instant。　Home；　homeward　he　steered　straight　as
  before；　but　the　wonderful　speed　was　diminished；　not　a　mile　a
  minute　now；　and　the　wind　made　undue　sounds　in　his　tattered
  pinions。　The　stain　in　his　breast　told　of　broken　force；　but　on；
  straight　on；　he　flew。　Home；　home　was　in　sight；　and　the　pain　in
  his　breast　was　forgotten。　The　tall　towers　of　the　city　were　in
  clear　view　of　his　far…seeing　eye　as　he　skimmed　by　the　high　cliffs
  of　Jersey。　On；　onthe　pinion　might　flag；　the　eye　might　darken；
  but　the　home…love　was　stronger　and　stronger。
  Under　the　tall　Palisades；　to　be　screened　from　the　wind；　he
  passed；　over　the　sparkling　water；　over　the　trees；　under　the
  Peregrines'　eyrie；　under　the　pirates'　castle　where　the　great　grim
  Peregrines　sat；　peering　like　black…masked　highwaymen　they　marked
  the　on…coming　Pigeon。　Arnaux　knew　them　of　old。　Many　a　message　was
  lying　undelivered　in　that　nest；　many　a　record…bearing　plume　had
  fluttered　away　from　its　fastness。　But　Arnaux　had　faced　them
  before；　and　now　he　came　as　beforeon；　onward；　swift；　but　not　as
  he　had　been；　the　deadly　gun　had　sapped　his　force；　had　lowered　his
  speed。　On；　on；　and　the　Peregrines；　biding　their　time；　went　forth
  like　two　bow…bolts；　strong　and　lightning…swift　they　went　against
  one　weak　and　wearied。
  Why　tell　of　the　race　that　followed？　Why　paint　the　despair　of　a
  brave　little　heart　in　sight　of　the　home　he　had　craved　in　vain？　in
  a　minute　all　was　over。　The　Peregrines　screeched　in　their　triumph。
  Screeching　and　sailing；　they　swung　to　their　eyrie；　and　the　prey
  in　their　claws　was　the　body；　the　last　of　the　bright　little
  Arnaux。　There　on　the　rocks　the　beaks　and　claws　of　the　bandits
  were　red　with　the　life　of　the　hero。　Torn　asunder　were　those
  matchless　wings；　and　their　records　were　scattered　unnoticed。　In
  sun　and　in　storm　they　lay　till　the　killers　themselves　were　killed
  and　their　stronghold　rifled。　And　none　knew　the　fate　of　the
  peerless　Bird　till　deep　in　the　dust　and　rubbish　of　that
  pirate…nest　the　avenger　found；　among　others　of　its　kind；　a　silver
  ring；　the　sacred　badge　of　the　High　Homer；　and　read　upon　it　the
  pregnant　inscription：　〃ARNAUX；　2590　C。〃
  BADLANDS　BILLY
  The　Wolf　that　Won
  I
  THE　HOWL　BY　NIGHT
  Do　you　know　the　three　calls　of　the　hunting　Wolf：the　long…drawn
  deep　howl；　the　muster；　that　tells　of　game　discovered　but　too
  strong　for　the　finder　to　manage　alone；　and　the　higher　ululation
  that　ringing　and　swelling　is　the　cry　of　the　pack　on　a　hot　scent；
  and　the　sharp　bark　coupled　with　a　short　howl　that；　seeming　least
  of　all；　is　yet　a　gong　of　doom；　for　this　is　the　cry　〃Close
  in〃this　is　the　finish？
  We　were　riding　the　Badland　Buttes；　King　and　I；　with　a　pack　of
  various　hunting　Dogs　stringing　behind　or　trotting　alongside。　The
  sun　had　gone　from　the　sky；　and　a　blood…streak　marked　the　spot
  where　he　died；　away　over　Sentinel　Butte。　The　hills　were　dim；　the
  valleys　dark；　when　from　the　nearest　gloom　there　rolled　a
  long…drawn　cry　that　all　men　recognize　instinctivelymelodious；
  yet　with　a　tone　in　it　that　sends　a　shudder　up　the　spine；　though
  now　it　has　lost　all　menace　for　mankind。　We　listened　for　a　moment。
  It　was　the　Wolf…hunter　who　broke　silence：　〃That's　Badlands　Billy；
  ain't　it　a　voice？　He's　out　for　his　beef　to…night。〃
  II
  ANCIENT　DAYS
  In　pristine　days　the　Buffalo　herds　were　followed　by　bands　of
  Wolves　that　preyed　on　the　sick；　the　weak；　and　the　wounded。　When
  the　Buffalo　were　exterminated　the　Wolves　were　hard　put　for
  support；　but　the　Cattle　came　and　solved　the　question　for　them　by
  taking　the　Buffaloes'　place。　This　caused　the　wolf…war。　The
  ranchmen　offered　a　bounty　for　each　Wolf　killed；　and　every　cowboy
  out　of　work；　was　supplied　with　traps　and　poison　for　wolf…killing。
  The　very　expert　made　this　their　sole　business　and　became　known　as
  wolvers。　King　Ryder　was　one　of　these。　He　was　a　quiet；
  gentlespoken　fellow；　with　a　keen　eye　and　an　insight　into　animal
  life　that　gave　him　especial　power　over　Broncos　and　Dogs；　as　well
  as　Wolves　and　Bears；　though　in　the　last　two　cases　it　was　power
  merely　to　surmis