It was all dark and still in the car, and nobody came in, but
the noise kept up outside, and I knew something had gone wrong with the
train. Perhaps Miss Laura had got hurt. Something must have happened to
her or she would come to me.
I barked and pulled at my chain till my neck was sore, but for a long,
long time I was there alone. The men running about outside must have
heard me. If ever I hear a man in trouble and crying for help I go to
him and see what he wants.
After such a long time that it seemed to me it must be the middle of the
night, the door at the end of the car opened, and a man looked in. "This
is all through baggage for New York, miss," I heard him say; "they
wouldn't put your dog in here."
"Yes, they did--I am sure this is the car," I heard in the voice I knew
so well; "and won't you get him out, please? He must be terribly
frightened."
The man stooped down and unfastened my chain, grumbling to himself
because I had not been put in another car. "Some folks tumble a dog
round as if he was a junk of coal," he said, patting me kindly.
I was nearly wild with delight to get with Miss Laura again, but I had
barked so much, and pressed my neck so hard with my collar that my voice
was all gone.
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