Pigeon Post. Arthur Ransome

down into the yard.

      “Don’t frighten him,” said Peggy.

      But Sophocles was startled only for a moment. He flew to the loft, waited on the ledge, looking down at the crowd of people in the yard, and then plunged in as if the swinging wires had not been there.

      “Trrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr …”

      Dick, who had stopped short as the pigeon flew down, smiled a slow, happy smile. The thing had worked. Sophocles had rung the bell.

      “Trrrrrrrrrrrrrr …”

      “Well done, Dick!” “What about that, mother?” “He’s done it.” Every one was talking at once.

      “Well, Dick, I must say it’s very clever of you,” said Mrs Blackett.

      “It’ll go on ringing till you go to the loft and switch it off when you take the pigeon’s message,” said Dick, watching the bell dithering as it lay loose on the chair.

      “But do you think we’ll hear it?” said Mrs Blackett, “when we’re racketing about and busy with other things.”

      “It’s going to be a lot louder than that,” said Dick

      “So we’ll be able to go,” said Roger eagerly.

      “Not if they can’t get milk …”

      “Come on, Dick,” said Peggy. “And shut off the bell while I’m catching Sophocles.”

      A moment later she was reading the second message:-

      “CRAWLING HOME MORE DEAD THAN ALIVE. BELLIES PINCHED. THROATS PARCHED. PLEASE PUT THE KETTLE ON.”

      “Doesn’t sound as if they had found a good water supply either,” said Mrs Blackett.

      “It’s just Nancy making it more exciting,” said Peggy. “Come on. Let’s get tea ready for them.”

      “Can I borrow the step-ladder?” asked Dick, looking up at a beam that crossed the passage in a most convenient place.

      “Anything you like,” said Mrs Blackett, and went off with the others to the camp in the garden, while Roger, much interested now that the bell was really working, stayed behind to help Dick.

      It was a huge old tea-tray, and noisy if you only touched it. Dick punched a hole in the middle of it with a hammer and nail, and fastened the bell there. He punched two more holes, good big ones, and then, with Roger to help, put two screws through these holes and into the beam above the passage, not screwing them tight, but leaving them loose so that the whole tea-tray was free to rattle. Then he connected up the bell once more, put the step-ladder back in the hall where the plasterers had been using it, and took the tools back to the carpenter’s bench.

      “I’ll just try it,” said Dick. “They’ll hear it everywhere.”

      “Don’t let’s,” said Roger. “Keep it till no one’s expecting it. There’s another pigeon to come yet.”

      They joined the others by the camp-fire. Dorothea looked at Dick.

      “Done?” she said.

      “You wait,” said Roger, grinning.

      There was a noise of cracking twigs in the wood, a noise of feet on dry leaves.

      “Here they are,” cried Titty, and a moment later the pioneers trudged wearily into camp.

      “What was it like?” said Roger. “You haven’t gone and found the gold already?”

      “What about tea?” said Nancy. “Our throats and tongues and skins are stiff with dust.”

      “Kettle’s boiling,” said Peggy. “Here you are, Susan, you’d better put the tea in yourself.”

      HOW DICK MADE THE PIGEON RING A BELL

      “Quick, quick before we faint,” said Nancy.

      “But do tell us what it was like,” said Dorothea.

      “Grand Gobi isn’t in it,” said Nancy. “Not a drop of water anywhere. The beck by the old pitstead, where we meant to camp, is dry. We saw a dead sheep in it … at least in the place where it was. Vultures overhead …”

      “A peregrine,” said John, who had caught the eager look in Dick’s eyes.

      “And what about Atkinson’s?” said Mrs Blackett.

      “Is it Squashy?” said Dorothea.

      “Yes it is,” said Nancy. “Well done, Peggy. Ow, I’d forgotten it’d be boiling … And I haven’t breath to blow it.

      “It is Squashy,” she went on. “He’s taken rooms at Atkinson’s, so he’d be bound to find out everything we’re doing. We’ll have to keep away from there altogether. And I say, we know he’s prospecting. There was a copy of the Mining World on Mrs Atkinson’s window-sill.”

      “Last week’s,” said John. “I saw the date.”

      “Shove a little more milk in,” said Nancy, “and then I’ll be able to drink it.”

      “But do go on,” said Dorothea. “What did you do in the desert?”

      “Walked and walked,” said Susan.

      “Tightened our belts and staggered on,” said Nancy. “There’s no water for a camp. Not on the Topps, or even near the Topps. Up in the higher reaches the Amazon itself is only a trickle.”

      “Never mind,” said Mrs Blackett. “Worth while going up there just to find out for certain that that particular plan is no good.”

      “No good,” exclaimed Nancy, spilling some of her tea. “No good! But didn’t you hear Squashy Hat is really a miner and lodging at Atkinson’s? We can’t let him have all the Topps to himself. Just think how sick Uncle Jim would be if Squashy found it … Of course we’re going. What about the pigeons? …”

      “We got your two messages,” said Titty.

      “Homer and Sophocles are back,” said Dorothea. “And Dick has got the bell working. It wasn’t done when Homer came, but Sophocles rang it like anything.”

      “Not very loud,” said Mrs Blackett.

      “But what about Sappho?” said Nancy. “We sent her off second, ages before Sophocles.”

      “She must have got lost on the way,” said Titty.

      At that moment there came from the house the violent shrilling of a bell, a long jangling rattle and a resounding crash of broken crockery.

      “Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr …”

      “What about that?” said Roger.

      They started to their feet.

      “Whatever was that smash?” said Mrs Blackett.

      Nancy looked at Dick.

      “It’s Sappho coming home,” he said.

      “Br!r!r!r!r!r!r!r!r! …”

      Tired as they were, the pioneers raced across the lawn with the stay-at-homes. The bell rang louder and louder. They turned into the yard. Cook was standing at the kitchen door with her hands to her ears.

      “Br!r!r!r!r!r!r!r!r!r!r!r! …”

      “Where is it?” cried Nancy.

      “In the passage,” said Roger.

      As they went in, the noise was almost deafening. There, above their heads the bell was whirring, the big tea-tray throbbing like a sounding-board. In the passage was a pile of broken plates.

      “Lucky it wasn’t the best service,” said cook. “A