Jeff let his hand brush Pal's head again. Completely trusting, the dog wagged his tail and shoved his nose against his master's thigh. Dragging the mattress from the top bunk, Jeff laid it on the floor. Conceivably, even a dog would protest against sleeping up there.
Hunger reminded Jeff that neither he nor Pal had eaten anything since last night, and again he took refuge in the happy thought that first things must be first. He edged up to the bars and said softly,
"Ike."
"Yeah?"
"Where's the food come from around here?"
"The garbage can," Ike answered sadly. "Anyhow, that's what I think."
"Can we get any other?"
"If you got money, you can ask Pop."
"Nothing like trying." Jeff raised his voice, "Hey, Pop!"
"What do you want?"