“Sam. Are those sandwiches ready, please?”
“Huh? Gee, didn’t I serve you yet? What do you know about that? Coffee, you said, didn’t you? Here you are.” He went back to an appraisal of the dog while Wayne and June, side by side, drank deep draughts of the hot coffee and bit huge mouthfuls from the delicious sandwiches. “Guess some more breakfast wouldn’t bust him,” said the proprietor, cutting off another slice of bread and buttering it liberally. “Can he do any tricks?”
“A few,” replied Wayne rather inarticulately by reason of having his mouth occupied by other things than words. “Sit up, Sam, and ask for it.”
Sam sat up, a trifle unsteadily, and barked three shrill barks. The man laughed. “Good boy! Here you are, then!” The piece of bread disappeared instantly. “Say, he’s sure hungry! What kind of a dog is he?”
“Reckon he’s just dog,” answered Wayne. “He don’t boast of his family much, Sam don’t, but he’s a good old chap.”
“Man over yonder at the railroad called him a alligator hound,” said June resentfully. “That’s the best dog in Colquitt County, Mister Denny. Yes, sir!”
“Where’s that, Junius?”
“Colquitt? That’s where we lives at when we’re to home. Colquitt County’s the finest——”