The fifth member had remained on the porch while the boys had eaten their dinners. There had been some compulsion about it, as a cord had been tied to his collar and then to the railing. But after the first minute or two, during which he had evidently labored under the impression that his newly found friends were about to escape him again, he had accepted the situation philosophically and had even dozed once or twice there in the sun. He looked very much better after he had been released and, surrounded by the boys, had eaten a hearty dinner. The sun had dried his coat, and the food had apparently restored his self-respect. A man in whipcord, probably a groom or stableman, paused on his way out of the hotel.
“That’s a nice-looking dog you’ve got there,” he observed after a silent contemplation of the terrier. “Where’d you get him, if it’s no offense, sir?”
Dan hesitated. Then:
“Over near Barrington,” he answered uneasily.
“Thoroughbred, I guess,” said the other questioningly.
Dan nodded carelessly. The man stooped and snapped his fingers.
“Here, boy, come see me. What’s his name, sir?”
“Er—Barry,” stammered Dan.
“Here, Barry!” called the man. But the terrier acted just as though he’d never heard his name before.