"How did you happen to do that?"
"I was told to, sir," answered the boy. "A--a gentleman told me
to, just now. One of the of'cers of the club. I don't know his
name. He showed me the stall; and he told me to take your dog
there."
"That's mighty, decent; whoever did it," said the Master,
whistling the freed dog to him and setting forth in the boy's
wake, toward the welcoming stables. "I wish you knew his name.
I'd like to thank him."
The stable was dim-lit, at best. Now, the gathering storm made it
as dark as twilight. The box stall to which Lad was led was
almost pitch black; its shuttered window being closed. Still, it
was shelter. Leaving the Master and the Mistress to consign Lad
to his new quarters, the boy scuttled of to a harness-room.
There, an eagerly-questioning man was awaiting him.
"Yep," broke in the boy, through a volley of inquiries. "I done
it, all right, all right, Mr. Higham. They're moorin' him in
Stall Five, right now. How about those two soft dollars? Hey?"
"You earned 'em, O. K.," grinned Higham. "Here you are.
Two,--count 'em, two.
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