Grit was allowed to roam about while the travelers were eating, and later, after Dick and his chums had gone up the street a little way, to buy some things they needed, they missed the dog.
"Why, where is Grit?" asked Dick, as they got in the auto again, to drive to the outskirts of the town, where they decided to "camp" for the night.
"I haven't noticed him since coming from the restaurant," said Paul. "I took it for granted that he was following us."
"So did I," said Innis.
Dick leaped from his seat and went back. There was no sign of his pet, and the waiters said the bulldog had gone out after them.
Dick looked up and down the street. Not far from the restaurant was a stable, setting back some distance, and reached by an alley.
"Maybe he's in there," suggested Paul. "It may remind him of the barracks at Kentfield Academy."
"Maybe," assented Dick. "I'll take a look."
As he neared the stable he heard the muffled barking of a dog. A burly man sauntered out of a shed and demanded:
"Whatcher want here?"