“How did you happen to find out so much?” asked Jack. “It is more than likely that it isn’t Billy’s mother at all. You never saw her.”
“Yes, I have seen her,” twittered the sparrow. “We were there when she fell down on the sidewalk, and we waited around until the ambulance came and took her away. We flew after it, too, to see what was going on, and we saw it stop before a big building, and saw them take her out and carry her in.”
“Very likely she was dead,” said Jack. “You couldn’t tell that, or she may have died since.”
“No, she wasn’t dead. I could tell by the way they carried her. I know she hasn’t died since, because I’ve seen her since through the window. I light on a big tree that grows in front of the window, and I can see just as plainly as if I were in the room.”
“It all sounds very well,” said business-like Jack, “but for all that you may be mistaken. It may have been some other woman.”
“I am not mistaken,” chirped the sparrow. “Here is a pigeon who has talked with her, and he can tell you more about her than I can. I don’t believe in trusting people too far, so I keep out of reach, but this speckled pigeon can tell you more about her than I can. Come on, Pepper and Salt, and tell Jack the Fire-Dog what you know about the blind kid’s mother.”
The black and white pigeon hopped fearlessly up to the two dogs, and modestly began his story:—
“You see, I can go ‘most anywhere because I’m lame and nobody would hurt a lame pigeon.”
“Except Dick the Scrapper,” cooed a young pigeon in tones too low to reach the Scrapper himself.