CHAPTER VIII

A TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE


Ever since Chico had become grown he had been in the habit of flying from
his nest in the early morning for a brief survey of the Piazza. First, he
would make his way to the famous well and, after a refreshing bath, would
walk about on the ground for a while in search of stray morsels of food,
perchance left by tourists the day before. Then, on the way back to his
ledge, he would stop for a moment here and there among the statuary for
a gossipy "coo" with one and another pigeon friend. But no matter how
interested he became in the sights and news of the Square, he was always on
his ledge in time to greet his dear human friends, upon whose appearance
there would ensue such an excited fluttering of wings and such a delighted
cooing that Maria would laugh aloud in glee, while Andrea emptied his
pockets of choicest tidbits.

One morning, a few weeks after the trip to Chioggia, as Chico was making
his customary early flight, his bright eyes caught sight of some enticing
crumbs on the pavement close to the steps leading to the new Campanile.
They seemed unusually good, and he lingered for some time pecking, first at
one and then another.

Suddenly he was grasped by a strong hand and hastily thrust into a padded
dark box.

Poor Chico! His heart fluttered so that he couldn't think. Not but what he
was used to being handled, and perhaps his prison was a new kind of basket,