“Here you are.” The baggage-man appeared with a cord which he hastily knotted in the dog’s collar. “I’ll put him aboard with your stuff.”
“All right,” answered David, as the train roared past and slowed down. “Well, good-bye, Jim.”
“So-long, Dave. I’ll keep an eye on Fisty.”
“Smoker? Three coaches forward,” said a brass-buttoned official in answer to David’s question.
David swung to the car steps as the train started, and stood for a second waving to Cameron. As he turned to mount the steps he saw a familiar shape shoot down the glistening platform and disappear in the darkness, a red ticket fluttering at its throat.
CHAPTER XV—BOSTON
“Smoke! Smoke!” he called, as the white figure shot across the patch of light from the station doorway and vanished up the Tramworth road. Then he realized the futility of his recent action, and laughed. As the step on which he stood glided smoothly past the end of the platform, his attention was attracted to another figure, standing with mouth open and eyes gazing with an absurdly wistful expression toward the place where Smoke was last visible. It was the baggage-man, with a piece of broken cord in his hand.
“Cheer up, old man!” shouted David, as the train slipped past. Then he turned and entered the car. “Might have known Smoke wouldn’t lead just like a little woolly lamb on wheels. Hang it, though, what will Wallie say? Well, I’ve got the claim check for him, anyway.”
He found a seat near the end of the car, flung up the window and filled his pipe. “Couldn’t sleep if I tried, so I’ll just have it out with myself now. Then I’ll try the sleeper.”
Settling comfortably in the corner of the seat, he glanced down the aisle of the car through the smoky haze that blurred the lamps and swirled through the ventilators. The man across the aisle lay huddled in his seat, mouth open and head jogging as he slept. Near the middle of the coach four men were playing cards. The muscular impetuosity of the one who was leading his trumps with a flourish that suggested swinging a pickaxe amused David more than it offended by its uncouthness. He understood that type of man better than he had a year ago.