Nick looked, also, and his eyes rested longest upon the dog, Rover, which followed among the crowd, still maintaining that animal expression of puzzled wonder.
Just as the end of the procession passed the hotel, the dog stopped, put his nose to the ground, sniffed vigorously a few moments, and came running back. His nose remained close to the ground, and he came straight into the hotel.
The next moment he uttered a joyful whine, and, bounding across the room, began to lick the hand of the stranger and manifest other signs of doggish joy.
Nick Carter was busy fastening his bag, yet he noticed the look of terror, mixed with rage, which came into the young man’s face.
The landlord was looking on with open-mouthed astonishment.
“Whose dog is this?” asked young Mackenzie, patting the delighted Rover on the head.
“Well, that beats the dickens!” muttered mine host. “Why, that’s your father’s Rover. The instinct of these brutes is wonderful. He knows you are a member of the family, I guess.”
Just then the landlord’s attention was called to another part of the room, and Nick’s head was bent down till it seemed to have his body between his eyes and Mackenzie, Jr. Yet he saw the latter give the dog a vicious kick, which sent the brute howling toward the door.
“Poor fellow!” coaxed Mackenzie, “did I step on your foot! Well, I ask your pardon, old boy, I’m sure.”
The dog approached suspiciously and received the man’s caress, with some misgivings expressed in his honest face.