Whether “two hoots and a holler” was only a short distance, or whether the freight agent hurried away from the dog fight because of the small negro’s description of the three travelers who were so lavish with “two-bit pieces” was not disclosed. At any rate a man was soon seen slouching down the platform.
“Was yo’-uns lookin’ fer me?” he asked.
“Are you the freight agent?” inquired Jerry.
“That’s what I be. I’m here nights, but Jim Peterson is here day times. We don’t do much business nights, an’ I jest took an hour or so off—er—fer amusement,” he added. “We was havin’ a sort of athletic contest. What kin I do fer yo’? Was yo’ expectin’ some freight?”
Jerry smiled at the man’s idea of an athletic contest in conjunction with a dog fight, and answered:
“We’re expecting a motor boat, shipped from Titusville.”
“A motor boat?”
“It’s called the Dartaway,” added Ned, to help the agent’s memory.
“A boat, eh?” and he seemed provokingly slow. “Well, now, I’m terrible sorry to disappoint yo’ gentlemen.”
“Hasn’t it come?” asked Bob.