This question got the man off on a new subject, and during the ride to Bridgeport, and he went all the way so that Nat had his arms well rested by the time they got there, he never referred to the contents of the valises again. Benny ran along the wagon in front of him, and every time the man saw him he would remark on his savage appearance, and say that he did not see what a man could be thinking of to have such an ill-looking brute hanging around him. The man had been in the Confederate army, too, and during the ride he kept Nat interested in his exploits, until Nat was really surprised when he pointed to the roofs of some houses in the distance and said:
“We are near our journey’s end at last. There is Bridgeport Did you say that you wanted to get out at the depot? Well, I am going right there.”
After a few cracks with the whip and turning several corners the man drew up at a long, low building, and Nat, after thanking him for his kindness, took his valises and got out. Presently he was standing in front of an open window, on the other side of which, on a high stool, was perched a clerk who was busy smoking a cigar.
“Well, my friend, what can I do for you on this fine morning?” was the way he greeted Nat.
“I want to know what is the fare to St Louis,” said Nat.
“Eight seventy-five,” said the clerk, laying down his cigar and reaching for a ticket “Do you want to go there?”
“Yes, sir; but I want to know in the first place whether or not you will take my dog on a passenger train,” said Nat.
“Where’s the dog?”
“He is right here.”
“Hold him up so that I can see him.”