“I need a likely boy to help me,” he told Captain Tarwell. “Know of anyone who would like a job?”
“How about Jamie here?” asked the captain, half seriously and half in jest.
“I’d like to work with pigeons!” exclaimed Jamie. “How much will you pay, Mr. Green?”
The pigeon cote owner did not answer the question. He looked Jamie over carefully.
“You’re too young,” he said finally. Then, seeing how disappointed Jamie looked, he added: “But I’ll think it over. Come around in a day or two.”
Mr. Green had not seemed very pleased to have the lost carrier pigeon returned to the loft.
“That bird is worthless,” he declared impatiently. “I’m through bothering with it. Or feeding it either!”
“Won’t you give Snow White another chance?” Vevi pleaded. “He couldn’t rise from the water no matter how hard he tried. His wings were all coated with oil when Jamie rescued him.”
“I know,” agreed Mr. Green. “But if it isn’t one thing, its another. White birds are more subject to attack than pigeons of another color. This bird isn’t strong enough to be a valuable racer. So I’ll cull it out.”
“Don’t do that,” pleaded Vevi quickly. “Give the bird to me.”