The boy recalled now that he had crammed most of last night’s untasted supper into his pockets, to serve him as breakfast during his search for his chums. Quickly he emptied his pockets; apportioning the contents between Buck and Dandy, and harshly ordering off such larger dogs as came snooping around for a share in the meal.
At last he went away. There was no time to waste, if he was to earn that two dollars for his dogs’ ransom.
Two dollars! Why, the largest sum he had ever earned in one day at Silk City was forty-five cents! And oftener he had not earned half that amount. Yet the money must be gotten somehow—and soon. Then there was another handicap: Out of his earnings he must buy food for Buck and Dandy during their imprisonment, if he did not want them to starve. Incidentally, he himself must have food—though he wanted none—in order to keep strong enough to work.
All day he haunted the Union Station. At sunset he was back at the pound, with a bagful of meat-scraps for his chums. He sat beside the bars, talking to them and putting them through their tricks until the pier closed. Then he ran all the way to the theatre district, in the hope of earning a few cents more by opening the doors of motorcars and carriages.
At the end of three days of self-starving and of day-and-night work, he had collected ninety-four cents. This was all he had been able to save after buying food for his pets and a daily cracker or two for himself. And he had sought work in every waking hour, except such times as he set aside for visiting the pound.
At dawn on the fourth day he found a dollar bill in the street. An early-morning traveller gave him twenty-five cents more for carrying a heavy suit-case a mile to the station.
The moment the fee was paid, Arnon dashed off for the pound. He had not only the two-dollar ransom, but fourteen cents left over wherewith to buy the materials for a reunion feast at the shack. His dizzy weakness and hunger were clean forgot in the mad joy of victory.
Panting, unsteady on his legs, he rushed down the pier. Before going into the office he paused at the pen to tell his glorious news to the two prisoners. But his shrill whistle brought no response. He bent down, shading his eyes; and stared into the pen. Neither Buck nor Dandy was there. The souse of the derrick-cage as it smote the water, and the simultaneous crazed screams of its twenty passengers, reached his ears. And he understood.
No longer did Arnon try to fight back the babyish tears. He fell face downward on the pier and gave way to hysterical weeping.
His chums! His dear, wonderful chums! The little loyal dogs that had loved him and had comforted him so prettily in his stark aloneness and that had been so perfectly trustful in his power to save them!