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brother?” inquired Freddy. “I trust you will present him my compliments, and ask him, when he has leisure, if he will do me the honor of paying me a short call. There are matters on which I wish to consult him.”
    â€œAh, I do remember,” said the eagle, “that there were certain business transactions between Pinckney and various of your associates. Concerning a goose, was it?—or a—”
    â€œ If you please,” interrupted Freddy quickly, and with a gesture indicated the two ducks, who were pretending to be powder puffs, with their heads under their wings.
    The eagle cocked his head and stared at them with his left eye. “Eh?” he said in a harsh whisper. “Ah, I see. The nieces? Ha, yes; you can trust me.” He lowered his voice. “There is a farm in South Pharisee owned by a Mr. Pratt. I fancy that inquiries there may be fruitful.—And now, my friend,” he said aloud, “in what can I serve you? Your high poetic talent, and your remarkably true and exact portrayal of eagle character, command my service. Instruct me, I pray.”
    So Freddy told him what he wanted. It took a lot of language, which would occupy too many pages here, so I will not repeat it. But when the eagle finally took his leave, he had promised to tell the animals at the farm of their plight, and to arrange somehow for them to get something to eat. After that Freddy felt better.

Chapter 5
    The eagle, whose name was Breckenridge, had told Freddy that they were now over the northern Adirondacks and headed for Lake Champlain. But the wind was almost gone. Slowly and more slowly they drifted, and at last hung nearly motionless over a long narrow lake, the wooded shores of which were almost solid rows of summer cottages and camps. Pretty soon people caught sight of the balloon, and came running down off their porches with opera glasses and telescopes, and shouted and waved. But this was getting to be an old story to the balloonists now, and they hardly troubled to wave back.
    Early in the afternoon Freddy saw a speck in the southern sky which he at first took to be an airplane, but which, as it grew steadily larger, he saw was the eagle.
    â€œLook, Alice—Emma,” he said excitedly. “Here comes Pinckney’s brother. Oh, I do hope … Yes, he’s got a hamper.” And sure enough, in his strong talons the eagle was carrying a large hamper whose contents were covered with a white napkin.
    â€œHow’s he going to give it to us?” asked Alice. “If he perches on the edge of this thing, he’ll have to let go of the hamper first. And if he keeps hold of the hamper, he can’t stop.”
    Apparently Breckenridge had just had the same thought. He soared in circles around the balloon two or three times, then shouting hoarsely to Freddy to catch hold, he came in closer, beating his wings in swift strokes to hover motionless beside them. Freddy leaned out as far as he dared, but he couldn’t reach the hamper, for Breckenridge’s wings were so big that he couldn’t come in any closer without hitting the ropes.
    He dropped away from them on a long slant, then came past again. “Devise something, pig; devise something,” he called.
    â€œMy goodness,” said Freddy, “what can I devise? Oh, dear, there’s our dinner right in plain sight, and it might just as well be in California.—Oh, wait!” he exclaimed suddenly. “The grapnel!” He picked up the four-pronged anchor and lowered it over the side until it hung some ten feet below them, then took a turn of the rope around a cleat and waited. The eagle, with a harsh scream of approval, swooped down and hung the hamper on one of the hooks, then flew up to perch beside Freddy and help him haul it up.
    The hamper tipped dangerously as they pulled it over the side. “Careful, pig,” said Breckenridge. “Let not your native greed overmaster caution. No need