"Den yo' presence am earnestly requested up dere by de baggageman," went on the porter.
"Is Grit hurt?" demanded the young millionaire.
"No, sah, leastaways he wasn't when I seed him. He were feelin' mighty peart!"
"Then what's the trouble?" asked Dick, as he prepared to follow the colored man to the car ahead.
"Why dere's a man in de car, an' yo' dog won't let him go out."
"Won't let him go out?" asked Dick, wonderingly.
"No, sah! He jest completely won't let him go out ob dat car, and he's keepin' him right by de do, so de baggage man can't slide out no trunks, no how. An' we's comin' to a station soon, where dem trunks hab jest natchally gotter be put off."
"I'll see what's the matter," promised Dick, hurrying on. "Be back in a minute," he called to his chums.
"If you want any help, send for us!" suggested Paul, "though," he added in a lower voice, "if Grit is on a rampage I'd rather not interfere—that is, personally."