The dory was lying near the water’s edge, and it only required that she should be launched in order to begin the journey.
Fluff took his place in the stern-sheets as if accustomed to this method of travelling; Sam took up the oars, refusing most decidedly Benny’s proposal that he be allowed to do his share of the rowing, and as the boat glided out of the little cove the crew at the station cheered right heartily.
“It sounds as if they were glad to be rid of us,” Benny suggested, and Sam replied:
“That’s their way of showin’ that they’ll be pleased to see you back. I might leave a dozen times, an’ nobody would so much as poke his nose out of the door to see if I got away all right.”
“But they count on your coming home just the same,” Benny replied earnestly, as if thinking his comrade might be jealous because more attention was bestowed upon a newcomer than on himself.
“I reckon they do, No. 8; but an old fellow like me don’t cut any such figger as does a boy, an’ a dog what’s wearin’ a medal of honor,” and Sam Hardy laughed heartily, whereat Benny began to understand that no jealousy lurked in his heart.
A most enjoyable voyage did this prove to be for No. 8 and Fluff, even though the temperature was many degrees below freezing and the wind piercing cold. Sam Hardy did not appear to be in any very great hurry to reach the city, once he had put off from the station, but told stories of heroism displayed by his comrades, at the same time that he fed the dog liberally with lumps of sugar.
“We’re out for a holiday,” he said when Benny suggested that it was not well for Fluff to have such a feast, “an’ I’m countin’ on his enjoyin’ it as well as us.”
“But it may make him sick.”