"They picked me up at Centerport. They saw that I was limber and could do a turn or two, and they made me join. They promised me good wages and a fine time, but as soon as we got on the road they treated me worse than my dog."
"Your dog?"
"Yes. I had a dog, and I said I wouldn't join unless they took the dog, too. Jones wanted me to give him, the dog—-he was a fine collie—-but I wouldn't do it, and when I left I took my dog with me."
"Where is he now?"
"I don't know. He ran away several days ago, and I haven't seen him since."
"And he was a collie?" asked Snap.
"Yes." Tommy Cabot's eyes brightened expectantly. "You haven't seen him, have you? He must be somewhere around these lakes."
"We found a dog—-a collie. He's got a tag on his collar—-number 444."
"My dog!" cried the circus boy. "Oh, I'll be glad to see him! He's my best friend, even if he did run away. Anyway, I guess he went to get something to eat. I hadn't much for him."
"What do you call your dog?" asked the doctor's son.