Tim hardly knew what reply to make, for that smile caused him to feel very uncomfortable; but he managed to say that he would always try to be on time, and the captain, in the excess of his good nature, gave him such a forcibly friendly slap on the shoulder that his teeth chattered.
In order to reach the city from the four corners where Mr. Pratt lived it was necessary to ride four miles in a carriage, and then take the steam cars.
An open wagon was the mode of conveyance; and as the driver was quite large, while Captain Pratt was no small party, there was no other way for Tim to ride save curled up in the end, where he could keep a lookout for Tip, who was, of course, to follow on behind as fast as his short legs would permit.
When everything was ready for the start, and Captain Pratt was making some final business arrangements with Mr. Coburn, Sam bade Tim good-bye.
“You’re awful lucky,” he said, as he clambered up on the wagon, where he could whisper in his friend’s ear; “an’ if you see any place for me on the steamer, send word right up—you can tie a note on Tip’s collar an’ send him up with it—an’ I’ll come right down.”
Sam would have said more, but the horse started; he nearly tumbled from his perch, and Tim’s journey to the city had begun.
It seemed to Tim that Captain Pratt changed as soon as they started. Instead of keeping up the idea of fatherly benevolence, which he had seemed to be full to running over with, he spoke sharply, and did not try to avoid hurting the boy’s feelings.
If, when the wagon jolted over the rough road, the boy’s head came in contact with his arm, which was thrown across the back of the seat, he would tell him to keep down where he belonged; and if he heard Tim’s heels knocking against the axle, he would scold him for not holding them up.
Between this sudden change in the kind captain’s ways and his fear that Tip would not be able to keep up with the wagon, Tim was feeling rather sad when the depot was reached.