Pep stood on his hind legs looking up into his master’s face. The doctor was dazed and uncertain. The taxi man shouted again.
“I tell you the boat will sail in just one minute. Take him along, or miss the boat.”
“All right, old pal. It’s us for Europe.” With these words, the doctor stooped down and gathered Pep up in his arms partially covering him with his overcoat to shield him from fussy officials, and followed the excited taxi driver into the elevator. Up they shot, and then along the gangplanks to the great floating palace which was to be Pep’s home for the next ten days.
About ten seconds later the tug began straining at the hawser working the great boat out of her slip. The adventure had fairly begun. Dog and master were upon their way across the Atlantic to take part in the great struggle against the Hun.
CHAPTER III
THE CROSSING
NOTICING that several of the ship’s officers whom they passed eyed Pep askance, the doctor singled out the most affable looking one and went straight to the point.
“What about dogs?” he asked. “My dog followed me to the very gangplank and I had to bring him along or miss the boat. He is a very valuable dog. I wouldn’t have anything happen to him for the world. He is a blue ribbon dog.”
The officer looked at the dog doubtfully. “If you really value him,” he said, “you had better not let the first mate see him. He is death on dogs. Why, the last trip across he had four thrown overboard. They were pets of wounded soldiers, too. It made the crew as mad as March hares. There wasn’t any sense in it, either.”