Wayne shook his head, sighed, and pushed the untasted coffee away. “Come on, June,” he said resolutely. “We’ve got to be travelling.”
“Huh?” queried June dismayedly. “Ain’ we goin’ to eat nothin’?”
“Not here. Mr. Connor doesn’t like our plan, June.”
“Don’ like it? How come he don’ like it? Look here, Mister Denny, that Sam dog’s the smartest, knowin’est dog as is, yes, sir! You can’ make no mistake if you takes him, sir. He’s got the cutest tricks——”
“I guess I’ve got to take him,” said Denny ruefully. “But I don’t see why you ain’t satisfied if I am. Oh, all right. Get on a stool there and feed your face, kid. You win. What about that hash now?”
Half an hour later, almost painfully replete with food and coffee, the boys left the Golden Star Lunch. Sam, tied with a cord behind the counter, sent wails of anguish after them, and Wayne hurried his steps and finally broke into a run. Only when a corner of a building along the track had shut off the lugubrious sounds did Wayne slow down again. After that they traversed a block in silence. Then it was June who spoke.
“Dogs is awful human folks, ain’ they?” he asked subduedly.
Wayne nodded but didn’t answer. Presently, though, he broke out defiantly with: “We’ve got to redeem him, June! He isn’t going to be happy there, Sam isn’t. He—he’s going to be mighty lonesome.” Then: “So am I,” he added gruffly.
“Yes, sir, I reckon he’s goin’ to be powerful mis’able at firs’,” agreed June. “We jus’ got to get to work an’ get him back, ain’t we, Mas’ Wayne?”