So Paolo found him. Andrea started guiltily as the old caretaker stepped in the door, but drew himself up proudly at the sharp inquiry:
"Is it possible that you are feeding Chico?"
"No," was the quick reply, "I am only talking to him. Surely there isn't any harm in that!"
"No harm at all," the old man answered; "and now I propose to take him to the Rialto and there give him his freedom, while you wait here and see if he knows enough to come home. Notice the time by the big clock; if he returns promptly, you may reward him with a good breakfast and plenty of water to drink, for he will be thirsty."
Andrea's face lighted up with joy. He had a pocket full of choice morsels, and, with a happy face, watched Paolo set out, carefully holding the basket with its precious load, while he and Maria settled themselves to await developments.
The Rialto is one of the busiest spots in all Venice; especially is it so at this time in the morning, for hither come the black boats from the island laden with fruits and vegetables to provision the city. On every side, amid the jostling throngs of people, one sees mountains of watermelons, piles of garlic, old scows and worn-out gondolas, heaped with all manner of strange-looking fish. Crossing over the bridge to the end where the jewelers have their shops, and elbowing through the crowd of young girls and matrons, with their gay-colored handkerchiefs and strands of bright beads, Paolo came to a more secluded quarter. Here he stopped, and, with careful deliberation, lifted the cover of the basket, saying as he laid his hand affectionately on Chico's glossy head, "Now fly, my bird, straight to your house!"
Without a moment's delay Chico was out of his prison and with a quick, spiral curve had soared into the blue Venetian sky. Pausing for an imperceptible instant, as though in search of some familiar object, he was off in the direction of St. Mark's Square.
In the meantime Andrea and Maria waited impatiently enough. They knew it would take time for Paolo to reach his destination, for the old man's steps were not as quick as they had once been. And then the awful thought would come that Chico might not fly straight home—might be beguiled elsewhere for some reason.
Full well Andrea knew how much depended upon this first flight.
Just as the figures on the great clock struck the hour of ten there was a whirr of wings. An arrow of silver shot through the air, and in another instant Chico was in his nest.