BLUE ROSETTE
Pietro noticed the lad's dejection and exerted himself to the utmost to
divert him. After a good dinner he proceeded to show him the sights of
Verona, at the same time telling him interesting tales about the Arena,
the beautiful gardens, and the palaces of olden time. But Andrea remained
listless, only rousing when his proposed a visit to the tomb of Romeo and
Juliet which was the one place his mother had charged him to see.
The show was to open the next morning at ten o'clock, and long before that
time there was an eager crowd at the turnstile.
All was in order--the birds of the various exhibits being arranged in cages
in different compartments. There were of every color variety, from big
fellows, brought 'way from London, to all white beauties. One corner was
devoted to the homing pigeons, and here Andrea discovered Chico in the same
cage with some highly trained racers from Belgium. His head had lost its
saucy tilt, and he was miserably pecking in the sawdust as if in search of
something to eat. But otherwise he seemed in good condition, and his master
felt a glow of pride as he mentally contrasted the appearance of "1104"
with those exhibited by the foreign fanciers, although, of course, he
supposed that, in all probability, Chico didn't have a ghost of a chance.
All this time his uncle was excitedly bobbing back and forth, mingling with
the people and commenting on the points of one or another specimen. It was
a good-natured crowd, that had, for the most part, drifted in from the
poultry show that was being held in an adjoining tent. There was not much
enthusiasm until four judges made their appearance, and with notebooks
in hand, began their inspection of the cages. Then there was a stir; the
bystanders pressed more closely to the railing, and there was considerable
excitement as fluttering blue and white ribbons indicated the winners of
first and second honors.
By the time the cage of messenger pigeons was reached, there was a ripple
of genuine excitement, and from one and another quarter bids were shouted
by those who knew the characteristics of a good homer. These began as low
as "Four lire" on a pigeon from Milan, "A hundred lire" on number "670,"
an aggressive-looking Belgian, and then--Andrea's head swam as a burly
American called out, "fifty dollars on '1104.'"
After that things became lively as the judges passed from one to another,
inspecting every bird most carefully and making note of individual
characteristics. When they seemed especially pleased, or stopped to confer,
as occasionally happened, over the record which, in every case, was marked
on the wings, then the bidding became fairly furious, "670" leading and
"1104" a close second. One of the judges took so long in his examination of
Chico that a fat German changed his bid, and an American called out, "Come,
get a move on you!" There was a long conference among the judges, during
which the people waited impatiently enough, and Andrea felt himself more
tense every moment.
Finally, with exasperating deliberateness, one of them turned and announced
that the blue rosette was awarded to number "1104." Andrea's cheeks went
scarlet, and the air was rent by cries of "Urra! Urra!" "Bully for 1104!"
The boy's head swam. CHICO HAD WON. It seemed as if he could scarcely
believe his senses. He looked around for his uncle only to find he had
leaped the railing and was shaking hands with the judges, and pointing
to Andrea as the owner of the bird. On every side could be heard excited
comments, and the American, just behind, was holding forth at a great rate:
"I knew it--I knew it all the time; he doesn't make the show some of 'em
do, but look at his breast! Look at the length of his wings, and his eye!
There isn't a bird here with such a keen eye as he has! Then, did you watch
him? He wasn't half as scared as the other birds! Just kind of bored by the
performance! One can see he has a strong heart, and that's what counts in
a homer! Why, bless me, I'd like to get hold of that bird. Is the owner
anywhere around?"
It was then Pietro reappeared, jubilant, of course. He wrung the boy's hand
until it ached, at the time exclaiming, "You're wanted on every side; you
can take your pick of chances to sell your bird, and if you ever wish to
engage as a trainer of pigeons, the way is open to you!"
When Andrea presented his metal tag for "1104," the crowd fairly closed in
upon him, shouting offers. Altogether it was a great triumph, but he felt
tired, and his head ached so that it was a distinct relief when Pietro,
looking at his watch, declared there wasn't a moment to lose if he intended
to catch the noon train for Venice!
He was glad it was over, and all the way down the tree-lined avenue, he
kept looking through the cracks of the basket, as if to assure himself that
Chico was really there.
But at the station another ordeal confronted him. Pietro had insisted when
they were first discussing coming to Verona that Chico must fly home, and
to this Andrea, at the time, had consented. Now he wished he had not. He
felt it almost an impossibility again to relinquish his bird, and pleaded
with Pietro to release him from his promise. But, no, his uncle was
obdurate, and was moved by no entreaties.
"Of what are you afraid? A bird which has the blue rosette can find his way
from Verona. He must carry the news of his victory himself, and I miss my
guess, if he doesn't reach home before you do."
"But it looks most terribly like a storm," the boy expostulated, his eyes
resting uneasily on the angry clouds looming over the castled hills.
"And what if it does rain? A homing pigeon has a stout heart and I warrant
it will take more than a thunder-storm to dismay our prize bird." And with
that he fastened to Chico's leg a little aluminum pouch, in which was a bit
of paper, containing the laconic message, "WON--THE BLUE ROSETTE!"
Andrea made no further protest, and away flew the bird, circling into the
air above, then, by still wider circles, higher and higher until he was
finally off.
Andrea watched until the mere speck in the distance had completely
disappeared. Venice seemed very far away! With a sinking heart he made his
way across the platform, and climbed into the little train from the window
of which he forlornly waved "good-bye" to the irrepressible Pietro, who,
after shouting a final injunction to the lad to "buck-up," and to be sure
and let him know how long Chico took to make the trip by his "air-line,"
jauntily waved his hand, and the train, moved out.
For fully half an hour Andrea crouched in his seat, altogether dejected,
watching the sky illuminated from time to time by flashes of lightning. A
man in the seat across the aisle leaned over to inquire the meaning of the
blue rosette he wore on his breast, but Andrea shook his head and with
blurred eyes looked out at the storm already breaking. Soon the thunder
could be heard above the noise of the train, and hailstones as large as
marbles rattled against the windows.
Somewhere in all that darkness Chico was flying! The boy's heart grew more
and more heavy and was filled with bitterness against his uncle who had
been so insistent. Of what use were empty honors if his bird was lost
forever?
In the meantime Chico was having his difficulties. For the first time he
was too far from Venice to catch even a glimpse of her domes or the new
Campanile. He was puzzled.
But somewhere was Venice, _somewhere_ his nest--with Pepita and the
fledglings. The thunder rumbled, the lightning flashed, the rain fell. Yet
his heart was stout and his courage strong.
Do they call it instinct that so unerringly guides the flight of the homing
pigeon? Was it the sea that called? Did the winds convey a message? I know
not, but, after that single moment of hesitation, the brave bird plunged
into the darkness and made his way to home and loved ones.
At last the long afternoon was over and the slow Italian train pulled into
Venice. Andrea sadly picked up his empty basket. As it happened, at the
very moment he stepped upon the platform, the clouds parted and the sun
shone, lighting with splendor the rippling waters of the Adriatic, and
shining full on the golden domes of the churches.
He expected Paolo and his sister would be at the station to welcome him and
to hear the result of the pigeon show. After all, what had it all amounted
to if the bird had been lost in the storm? At that point in his reflections
a little figure came rushing to him, all breathless with excitement. It was
Maria, with her father and mother just behind. They were followed by the
old caretaker, hurrying as fast as his rheumaticky limbs would permit, and,
wonder of wonders! Andrea had to look twice to be sure he was not mistaken,
perched upon his shoulder was--CHICO! To be sure, his feathers were a
little disheveled, for he had been too busy with Pepita and the fledglings
to take time to preen them, but apparently he was unharmed by the perils
through which he had passed, and there was as saucy a tilt to his as ever.
"Urra! Urra!" the boy cried, throwing his cap twice into the air, while his
father wrung his hand excitedly, and Maria exclaimed:
"He came into the nest more than an hour and a half ago. Oh, isn't he the
grande bird?"
"He's the fast express all right!" put in Paolo, waving his cane proudly in
the air; "made the whole distance at the rate of over forty miles an hour."
Then they all talked at once, asking questions, first about the pigeon
show, and then about the adventures in Verona.
It seemed as if Andrea couldn't answer fast enough, there was so much to
tell, and he repeated more than once as he passed the blue rosette for
their closer inspection:
"There wasn't a bird to compare with him!"
"And you say you rode behind a horse?" Paolo questioned, as the entire
party crowded into the old gondola, and Chico flew into his master's lap.
"Si! Si! And saw an automobile!" was the proud answer as Andrea went on to
describe how it "went like the wind," just like the one he had dreamed of.
Unconsciously there crept into his demeanor a slight suggestion of Pietro's
swagger, and while he was glad to get home, and though St. Mark's Square
never seemed so beautiful before, still there was no denying it was a great
experience to have traveled and seen something of the world.