All at once he saw the conductor and trainmen coming back hurriedly. Evidently the train was about to start. With a final kindly stroke of the white head, he called a workman nearby, handed him half a dollar to hold the dog, and sprang on board.
He had scarcely settled himself into his chair, however, before the dog came rushing up the aisle from the other end of the car, and precipitated himself muddily and noisily upon him.
With haste and perturbation Gordon hurried the dog to the door and tried to fling him off, but the poor creature pulled back and clung to the platform yelping piteously.
Just then the conductor came from the other car and looked at him curiously.
“No dogs allowed in these cars,” he said gruffly.
“Well, if you know how to enforce that rule I wish you would,” said Gordon. “I’m sure I don’t know what to do with him.”
“Where has he been since you left Washington?” asked the grim conductor with suspicion in his eyes.
“I certainly haven’t had him secreted about me, a dog of that size,” remarked the young man dryly. “Besides, he isn’t my dog. I never saw him before till he followed me at the station. I’m as anxious to be rid of him as he is to stay.”
The conductor eyed the young man keenly, and then allowed a grim sense of humor to appear in one corner of his mouth.
“Got a chain or a rope for him?” he asked more sympathetically.