“But I could not; then he dragged me along on my side by the chain; I was choking, my eyes were starting from their sockets, when at last my champion came.
“Only a railway guard—only a big, burly, bine-coated, brass-buttoned railway guard—but as, lamp in hand, he stood there, square-shouldered and erect, glancing with indignant eyes at the wretched cowering porter, he seemed all a hero.
“‘How dare you use a dog in that way?’ he cried.
“Then he took me in his arms and carried me into his own van, and gave me a bed of warm straw. Heaven bless his brown beard, wherever he is; but for him I should have died.
“I was left to starve again at the London station, and here by sheer force I pulled my head through my collar and fled.
“That is my story then,” said Rover, “and it proves that the world is not all bad, and that there are many good guards on railways who are kind to travelling doggies; and once more I say, Heaven bless their brown beards where’er they may be.”
“A very nice stoly indeed,” said Ida.
“And now me,” said Maggie May.
“Well, Maggie May, I see you have got Mysie there to nurse, so I’ll put a pussy in your story, if you don’t mind.”
“Yes.”