Four Afoot: Being the Adventures of the Big Four on the Highway. Barbour Ralph Henry
leaving the youth staring hard.
“Well, let’s get on,” said Dan, tying the last shoe lace.
So they started back toward the road, leaving the crowd, which had grown steadily for the last five minutes, looking admiringly at Dan’s broad back. When they had reached the road, there was a shout from the float and they looked back.
“Hey! There comes the dog!” some one called.
And sure enough, there was the terrier close behind them. He apparently had no doubts as to his welcome. His tiny tail was wagging busily as he went up to Bob, sniffed at his legs, and then turned and made straight for Dan, a few feet away.
“Hello,” said Dan; “you remember me, do you?”
For answer the dog placed his front paws on Dan’s knee and looked inquiringly up into his face.
“I believe he knows you rescued him,” said Bob.
“Of course he does,” said Dan. “You’ve got sense, haven’t you, Towser?”
The terrier sneezed and wagged his tail frantically, pawing at Dan’s knee.
“Hello; catching cold, are you?” Dan picked him up and snuggled him in his arms. “That won’t do. Mustn’t catch cold, you know.” The dog licked Dan’s face and wriggled ecstatically.
“He seems to like you,” said Tom. “Dogs are funny creatures.”
“He’s a nice little dog,” said Dan as he dropped him gently to the ground again. “I wouldn’t mind having him.”
“Wonder if he really is a stray?” said Nelson.
“Well, come on, fellows; it’s getting late,” said Bob, “and we’re only a little more than halfway to Meadowville.”
“Now you run along home, Mr. Dog,” said Dan, shaking his finger at the terrier. The terrier seemed to understand, for his manner became at once sorrowful and dejected. He watched them go off without a wag of his tail. Presently Dan stole a backward glance. The terrier was stealing along behind them some twenty yards back. Dan said nothing. A few minutes later Bob and Nelson became aware of something trotting along in the rear. They turned. The terrier stopped with one foot in the air. His tail wagged conciliatingly.
“Go home!” said Bob sternly.
The dog dropped his head and began to sniff at the ground as though the last thing in his mind was following them. Nelson and Tom laughed.
“Oh, let him come,” muttered Dan.
“It wouldn’t be fair,” said Bob firmly. “He must belong to some one and they’d probably feel bad if they lost him.”
“All right,” said Dan. “You get along home, doggie.”
But doggie was busy now following an imaginary scent along the side of the road.
“Throw a stone at him,” said Tom.
“You do it if you want to,” said Bob.
But Tom didn’t seem to want to. Finally Bob picked up an imaginary missile and made a motion toward the dog. He didn’t run, but paused and stared at them with an expression of such surprise and sorrow that Bob’s heart failed him.
“Oh, come on,” he muttered. “He won’t follow.”
Five minutes later when they reached a turn in the road they looked back. There stood the terrier where they had left him, still looking after their retreating forms. The next moment he was lost to sight.
“He was a nice little dog,” said Dan regretfully.
They reached Meadowville without further adventure just before noon, having made, in spite of the delay, a very creditable morning record. There was no choice in the matter of hotels, since the village boasted of but one – a small, white-painted, old-fashioned hostelry standing with its front steps flush with the village street. A long porch ran the length of the house, and a dozen armchairs invited to rest. But the proprietor informed them that dinner was ready and so they made at once for the washroom, removed the dust of the highway, and subsequently were conducted into the dining room, already well filled. They had just finished their soup – all save Tom, who had requested a second helping – when the proprietor appeared before them.
“Say, did any of you boys bring a dog?” he asked.
“No,” and they shook their heads.
“All right. There’s one out here and I can’t get rid of him. I didn’t know but he might belong to some of you. I never saw the cur before.”
“Here! Hold on,” cried Dan, jumping up. “Let’s see him.”
They all trooped out into the office. There, nosing excitedly about, was the wire-haired terrier. When he caught sight of them he stopped, crouched to the floor, and wagged his bit of tail violently. They broke into a laugh; all save Dan.
“It’s all right,” said Dan decisively. “That’s my dog.”
He strode over to him. The terrier rolled over on to his back, stuck all four feet toward the ceiling, and awaited annihilation. But it didn’t come. Instead, Dan took him into his arms and faced the others.
“I guess he can stay with us now, can’t he?” he asked.
“You bet,” said Bob.
CHAPTER VII
WHEREIN BARRY DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF
They rested until a little after two o’clock, and then, the intensest heat of a very hot day having passed, they took up their journey again, the party of four now having become a party of five.
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.
“He looks a lot like Forest Lad, the dog that won so many prizes in New York last winter,” continued the man. “But he’s a bit thinner across the breast than him, I guess. A fine-looking dog, though. Want to sell him?”
“No, I don’t think so,” answered Dan.
“Well, I don’t want him myself, but I guess I could tell you where you could find a purchaser, and not very far off.”
“He’s not for sale,” said Dan.
“Well, I don’t know as I’d want to sell him if he was mine,” said the other as he moved off.
“Look here, what did you call him Barry for?” asked Nelson.
“Gee! I had to call him something,” said Dan, “and that’s the first thing I thought of. I didn’t want that fellow to think I’d stolen the dog.”
“Well, but what’s Barry mean? What made you think