In
fact it was completely gone by the time they rounded the corner of the
church and came upon the happy couple basking in the sunlight and cooing
affectionately to each other.
"So that's the fellow!"--and Pietro pointed to Chico, entirely ignoring
little Pepita by his side.
Andrea nodded, not daring to trust himself to speak.
"Hum-mm." His uncle cleared his throat. "Suppose you call him that I may
see him closer."
Andrea managed a faint "Chico," and in an instant the pigeon was in his
lap, burrowing in his pocket in search of the usual tidbits.
"Hum-mm." Pietro caught the bird firmly in one hand, at the same time
swiftly running the other over the trembling body.
"Long wings, bulge prominent over the ear, broad breast, a clear, keen
eye--"
Andrea's heart almost ceased to beat.
Then, very slowly, Pietro went on appraisingly. "Very good, very good,
indeed! And you say he has had some training?"
"Oh, yes!" the boy answered, and with glowing face, vastly relieved, "he
has carried messages from ever so far, from the Lido, from Chioggia--"
"Have you kept his record?" Pietro interrupted brusquely.
At this the boy fished in one pocket after another, finally producing a
grimy card, covered with figures.
His uncle took it and, after studying it over carefully, handed it back,
saying:
"This is somewhat remarkable, and should be marked on his wings." With that
he produced a tiny bottle of India ink a rubber stamp, and while Andrea,
with fascinated interest, held the bird, Pietro copied the figures on the
primary feathers of the right wing, remarking as he finished, "There, I
guess that will attract attention from any fancier.
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