Chico: the Story of a Homing Pigeon Part 13

"Bene! It shall be done. Your expenses shall be paid to the best government school of aviation, and, from this time on, an income of one hundred and fifty lire a month shall be allowed your parents, for it is understood your father has aged greatly in the service of his country."

Andrea bowed his head. He had no words to express his grat.i.tude. But, once outside, he ran every step of the way home, in his eagerness to tell the wonderful news.

The Great War is now a matter of history, and once more tourists are flocking to Venice. Again gay laughter is heard on the Grand Ca.n.a.l. The little shops that line the sides of the Piazza of St. Mark's are now bright with glittering strands of beads, while the women are once more busy with their bobbins.

The clock tower, the Ducal Palace, the Campanile--they are all there, beautiful as ever, and now as ever stands St. Mark's Church, sharing the joy of her people as she has sympathized with them in their sorrow.

Perchance, reader, you may yourself sometime visit this city of "Beautiful Nonsense," and, if so, may call "Chico, Chico!" and look to see if one of the fluttering pigeons that so contentedly coo about the Square will not come and light upon your shoulder.

Should you be so fortunate as to catch a glimpse of an aeroplane circling in the blue sky, you may risk a guess that the aviator is Andrea, in the government employ.

You may even learn that he wears a medal ever about his neck and that sometimes he carries with him Chico as a mascot: sometimes, but not always, for little Pepita is sadly lonesome when her faithful mate is long away.

Who knows but that in the future this story of a homing pigeon may have a place with the other memories of this wonderful city, and that, five or six hundred years from now, children may gather about some old caretaker of St.

Mark's and listen, with fascinated attention, as he tells of the service rendered Venice by a homing pigeon in the time of the Great War?