They turned a corner and trotted smoothly down the main street of the town. On the right, at the foot of the street, shone the low red and green switch-lights of the railroad. The station baggage-room was open, and the lamplight spread out across the glistening, wet cinders of the approach to the platform. Cameron whirled the team alongside and David jumped out, Smoke at his heels.
“Boston—single.”
The station agent stamped the ticket and shoved the change under the wire screen.
“Two bundles on this,” he said, handing his ticket to the baggage-man, and lifting his belongings to the platform. “I suppose the dog can come in the smoker with me?”
“’Gainst the rules. Have to buy a ticket for him. He goes in the baggage.”
The air quavered with the rumble of the on-coming train. A long shaft of light shot round a distant curve.
“Here, Smoke!” David attached the red ticket to the dog’s collar. “You’re live baggage this trip.”
“You’ll have to have a chain or they won’t take him,” said the baggage-man.
“Got a piece of rope, Jim?”
“Nope. They’s some on your duffle.”