In the office of the hotel I went to stood a safe that attracted me. It was of a make that George always favored, and we had beaten a half dozen of them in the two years we were together.
No explosives were needed. It could be got “on the quiet.” I put down my last dollar for a week’s board and room, and began planning an assault on the ancient “box.”
I was alone, almost broke, and here was opportunity. Opportunity not only to fortify myself with money, but to test myself and prove whether my years with George and the Sanctimonious Kid had fitted me to make my way alone at the profession I had drifted into. I went over the situation carefully. A westbound passenger train passed through the town at one o’clock A.M. The hotel closed at midnight. An hour was time enough for the mechanical work on the box. The time-tables showed that I could be on the “American side” in twelve hours if I got out on the night train. Here was a feasible getaway.
The next thing was to make sure that no one entered the hotel office between the hours of twelve and one. Several nights’ watching satisfied me that I would not be interrupted in that way. The week was almost gone, so was my money, and I saw that more would be needed for my board and lodging before the arrival of my first big night alone. This forced me into a small room burglary that was almost fatal.
Prowling through the one other hotel in the town I found a room door unlocked and stepped inside. There were two beds in the room, both occupied. On a chair by the bed nearest the door was the sleeper’s trousers, from which I got a purse. Pocketing it, I moved to a chair by the second bed, where I could distinguish something dark that appeared to be a bunch of clothes.
Right there I learned that a fair-sized, healthy dog sleeps sound as a human being. Instead of putting my hand on a pair of pants, it touched something furry that came to life with a start and a growl, and fastened a pair of strong jaws on my forearm. Both sleepers stirred. Before I got to the door, dragging the snarling, clawing brute that wouldn’t let go his grip, the man whose purse I had sat up in bed. I was without a gun, but threatened to blow his head off just the same. Being a sensible man, he remained quiet.
I had put out the only light in the hall. Still burdened with the tenacious, growling dog, I was forced to feel my way with my feet toward the back stairway. I couldn’t stop in the hall to choke him loose; my only hope was to drag him downstairs and deal with him outside the place.
At the top of the stairs his struggles and weight overbalanced me, and we rolled and bumped down the long, dark stairway to the landing below. On our way down he weakened, let go his grip on my arm, scrambled to his feet, and tore out into the alley, howling piteously. I gathered myself up and ran in the opposite direction. In my room, I took stock and found he hadn’t injured me, and that I had enough money to carry me for another week.
I now moved into a small lodging house and paid for my room each night. As a transient roomer I could leave at any time without causing comment.
Curious to learn something about the dog I was tangled up with, I went into the office and barroom of the hotel, looking for him. One evening while I was getting a drink I heard a low, threatening growl across the room, and a look in the big mirror back of the bar showed me a good, big, husky shepherd dog standing under a card table. The hair on his neck and back bristled as he eyed me suspiciously. I thought he was going to attack me, and turned around to face him. When I did this, he backed still farther beneath the table, but never took his eyes off me. The room was crowded with loungers and card players, but none of them appeared to notice his actions. I went out of the place and stayed out.