“In the absence of crew I’ve kept my bull pup down in the engine room,” explained Mr. Dunstan.
“A mighty good idea,” muttered Tom with a swift recollection of the fragments of conversation he and Joe had overheard on the train.
“Stand back a moment, until I let him out and present you to him,” requested the owner. “Don’t be afraid of him. Bouncer is a very intelligent dog. Hell understand an introduction as quickly as a human being would.”
One of the forecastle windows was open, to give air to the dog, though it was not large enough to let him out.
“It’s all right, Bouncer,” called Mr. Dunstan reassuringly, as he fitted a key at the forecastle door. “Now come out like a four-footed gentleman and meet some friends of ours.”
Bouncer came nimbly out, a low-built, thickset bulldog of the finest fighting type. He had a square-set pair of jaws that looked capable of taking a tremendous grip. His look, however, under the prompt petting of his owner, was kindly and curious.
“These young gentlemen are all right, Bouncer,” spoke Mr. Dunstan. “Go over and get acquainted with them. Let them pet you.”
Bouncer contented himself with a brief sniffing at each boy in turn. Then he submitted to caresses, wagging his short stump of a tail.
“He understands. You’ll never need to be afraid of this dog, unless you do some such extreme thing as to attack me or a member of my family,” Mr. Dunstan assured them. “Now come down into the engine room.”
“Say, this is something like!” uttered Joe enthusiastically, as he stepped below and stood looking about him. Here there was an abundance of room, for much of the engine was housed back under the bridge deck. The engineer had plenty of space in which to move about. Forward of the engine room, shut off by a curtain, was the galley. Here were stove, sink, ice box, dishrack and room for a goodly supply of foods.