He seemed a child again, sitting close to old
Paolo's side and listening to his tales of happenings in the long ago.
True, now there was wireless at the front, besides telephones and
telegraphs, and yet, even with all modern inventions, he wondered if the
War Department might not be able to find some use for a trusty pigeon.
Though the boy's heart grew faint at the thought of the sacrifice, his
resolution was immediately taken, and as soon as he was released from duty
in the morning he made his way directly round the church to the bird's
nest. He was tall now and had no need of the box Paolo had placed so long
ago for use as a step: thrusting his hand through the aperture, he firmly
grasped Chico who happened at that time to be taking his turn with the eggs
while his mate enjoyed a much-needed constitutional.
Naturally he resented the interruption and made futile efforts to free
himself. But Andrea was resolved on no delay, and without more ado bore off
the struggling bird, just as Pepita fluttered into the aperture, with an
apology for being late, and ready to assume her wifely duties.
"Chico! Chico!" the boy exclaimed, gently smoothing the rumpled feathers,
"you mustn't mind, old fellow. I'm sorry to take you away, but you and I
have a duty to our country and we mustn't shirk!"
Gradually the pigeon ceased to struggle, and while not in the least
understanding what it was all about, snuggled close to Andrea's breast,
putting his head confidingly inside his soldier's coat.
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