At this the doctor looked troubled, but he was a diplomat and a man of quick action. He knew there was many a way of circumventing unjust regulations like this.
“Here is a five-dollar bill,” he said, slipping the greenback into the hand of the officer. “You introduce me to the official who is the most of a dog lover.”
“That’s the old man,” said the official doubtfully. “I wouldn’t dare to approach him, but you might appeal to him if the worst came. He is the captain of the ship, but we call him the old man. The head steward keeps a little dog in his cabin. Perhaps he might accommodate you.”
So they went to the chief steward’s cabin, where they found that necessary official swearing at his associates.
“Another dog,” he snorted, when the proposition had been put up to him. “Well, I guess not. Ginger worries me nearly to death.”
“He is a blue ribbon dog,” explained the doctor. “They would keep each other company. Take a look at him.” He held Pep up for inspection.
The steward gave Pep a hurried glance, then came nearer to get a better view. He stroked his sleek head and tweaked his ears fondly.
“The very picture of my old Sally. Why I sailed fifteen years with that dog. She was better company than half the folks. Why, yes, I can make a place for him. Here, Ginger, come here and take a sniff at your shipmate.”
The doctor set Pep down on the floor and the small black and tan dog approached gingerly as suited his name, but Pep gave him just one disdainful glance then looked the other way.
“They’ll be all right when they get acquainted,” said the doctor. “You see Pep is rather exclusive.”