bruce-第4节

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〃I　guess　you　will　be；〃　conceded　his　wife。　〃If　that's　the

'thorough'　way　you　do　your　jobs　at　the　factory〃



〃Say；〃　he　mumbled　in　a　sort　of　wondering　appeal；　〃is　there　any

HUMAN　that　would　like　to　trust　a　feller　so　much　as　to　risk

another　ribcracking　kick；　just　for　the　sake　of　being　where　he　is？

I　almost　wish〃



But　the　wish　was　unspoken。　Hazen　was　a　true　American　husband。　He

feared　his　wife　more　than　he　loved　fairness。　And　his　wife's　glare

was　full　upon　him。　With　a　grunt　he　picked　Lass　up　by　the　neck；

tucked　her　under　his　arm　and　made　off　through　the　dark。



He　did　not　take　the　road　toward　the　canal；　however。　Instead　he

made　for　the　railroad　tracks。　He　remembered　how；　as　a　lad；　he　had

once　gotten　rid　of　a　mangy　cat；　and　he　resolved　to　repeat　the

exploit。　It　was　far　more　merciful　to　the　puppyor　at　least；　to

Hazen's　conscience；than　to　pitch　Lass　into　the　slimy　canal　with

a　stone　tied　to　her　neck。



A　line　of　freight　cars〃empties〃was　on　a　siding；　a　short

distance　above　the　station。　Hazen　walked　along　the　track；　trying

the　door　of　each　car　he　passed。　The　fourth　he　came　to　was

unlocked。　He　slid　back　the　newly　greased　side　door；　thrust　Lass

into　the　chilly　and　black　interior　and　quickly　slid　shut　the　door

behind　her。　Then　with　the　silly　feeling　of　having　committed　a

crime；　he　stumbled　away　through　the　darkness　at　top　speed。



A　freight　car　has　a　myriad　uses；　beyond　the　carrying　of

legitimate　freight。　From　time　immemorial；　it　has　been　a　favorite

repository　for　all　manner　of　illicit　flotsam　and　jetsam　human　or

otherwise。



Its　popularity　with　tramps　and　similar　derelicts　has　long　been　a

theme　for　comic　paper　and　vaudeville　jest。　Though；　heaven　knows；

the　inside　of　a　moving　box…car　has　few　jocose　features；　except　in

the　imagination　of　humorous　artist　or　vaudevillian！



But　a　far　more　frequent　use　for　such　cars　has　escaped　the　notice

of　the　public　at　large。　As　any　old　railroader　can　testify；

trainhands　are　forever　finding　in　box…cars　every　genus　and

species　of　stray。



These　finds　range　all　the　way　from　cats　and　dogs　and　discarded

white　rabbits　and　canaries；　to　goats。　Dozens　of　babies　have　been

discovered；　wailing　and　deserted；　in　box…car　recesses；　perhaps　a

hundred　miles　from　the　siding　where；　furtively；　the　tiny　human

bundle　was　thrust　inside　some　conveniently　unlatched　side　door。



A　freight　train　offers　glittering　chances　for　the　disposal　of　the

Unwanted。　More　than　once　a　slain　man　or　woman　has　been　sent　along

the　line；　in　this　grisly　but　effective　fashion；　far　beyond　the

reach　of　recognition。



Hazen　had　done　nothing　original　or　new　in　depositing　the　luckless

collie　pup　in　one　of　these　wheeled　receptacles。　He　was　but

following　an　oldestablished　custom；　familiar　to　many　in　his

line　of　life。　There　was　no　novelty　to　it；except　to　Lass。



The　car　was　dark　and　cold　and　smelly。　Lass　hated　it。　She　ran　to

its　door。　Here　she　found　a　gleam　of　hope　for　escape　and　for

return　to　the　home　where　every　one　that　day　had　been　so　kind　to

her。　Hazen　had　shut　the　door　with　such　vehemence　that　it　had

rebounded。　The　hasp　was　down；　and　so　the　catch　had　not　done　its

duty。　The　door　had　slid　open　a　few　inches　from　the　impetus　of

Hazen's　shove。



It　was　not　wide　enough　open　to　let　Lass　jump　out；　but　it　was　wide

enough　for　her　to　push　her　nose　through。　And　by　vigorous

thrusting；　with　her　triangular　head　as　a　wedge；　she　was　able　to

widen　the　aperture；　inch　by　inch。　In　less　than　three　minutes　she

had　broadened　it　far　enough　for　her　to　wriggle　out　of　the　car　and

leap　to　the　side　of　the　track。　There　she　stood　bewildered。



A　spring　snow　was　drifting　down　from　the　sulky　sky。　The　air　was

damp　and　penetrating。　By　reason　of　the　new　snow　the　scent　of

Hazen's　departing　footsteps　was　blotted　out。　Hazen　himself　was　no

longer　in　sight。　As　Lass　had　made　the　journey　from　house　to

tracks　with　her　head　tucked　confidingly　under　her　kidnaper's　arm；

she　had　not　noted　the　direction。　She　was　lost。



A　little　way　down　the　track　the　station　lights　were　shining　with

misty　warmth　through　the　snow。　Toward　these　lights　the　puppy

trotted。



Under　the　station　eaves；　and　waiting　to　be　taken　aboard　the

almost…due　eleven…forty　express；　several　crates　and　parcels　were

grouped。　One　crate　was　the　scene　of　much　the　same　sort　of　escape…

…drama　that　Lass　had　just　enacted。



The　crate　was　big　and　comfortable；　bedded　down　with　soft　sacking

and　with　〃insets〃　at　either　side　containing　food　and　water。　But

commodious　as　was　the　box；　the　unwonted　confinement　did　not　at

all　please　its　occupanta　temperamental　and　highly　bred　young

collie　in　process　of　shipment　from　the　Rothsay　Kennels　to　a

purchaser　forty　miles　up　the　line。



This　collie；　wearying　of　the　delay　and　the　loneliness　and　the

strange　quarters；　had　begun　to　plunge　from　one　side　of　the　crate

to　the　other　in　an　effort　to　break　out。　A　carelessly　nailed　slat

gave　away　under　the　impact。　The　dog　scrambled　through　the　gap　and

proceeded　to　gallop　homeward　through　the　snow。



Ten　seconds　later；　Lass；　drawn　by　the　lights　and　by　the　scent　of

the　other　dog；　came　to　the　crate。　She　looked　in。　There；　made　to

order　for　her；　was　a　nice　bed。　There；　too；　were　food　and　drink　to

appease　the　ever…present　appetite　of　a　puppy。　Lass　writhed　her

way　in　through　the　gap　as　easily　as　the　former　occupant　had

crawled　out。



After　doing　due　justice　to　the　broken　puppy　biscuits　in　the

inset…trough；　she　curled　herself　up　for　a　nap。



The　clangor　and　glare　of　the　oncoming　express　awakened　her。　She

cowered　in　one　corner　of　the　crate。　Just　then　two　station…hands

began　to　move　the　express　packages　out　to　the　edge　of　the

platform。　One　of　them　noticed　the　displaced　board　of　the　crate。

He　drove　home　its　loosened　nails　with　two　sharp　taps　from　a

monkey…wrench；　glanced　inside　to　make　certain　the　dog　had　not

gotten　out；　and　presently　hoisted　the　crate　aboard　the　express…

car。



Two　hours　later　the　crate　was　unloaded　at　a　waystation。　At　seven

in　the　morning　an　expressman　drove　two　miles　with　it　to　a

country…home；　a　mile　or　so　from　the　village　where　Lass　had　been

disembarked　from　the　train。



An　eager　knot　of　peoplethe　Mistress；　the　Master　and　two

gardenerscrowded　expectantly　around　the　crate　as　it　was　set

down　on　the　lawn　in　front　of　The　Place's　veranda。　The　latch　was

unfastened；　and　the　crate's　top　was　lifted　back　on　its　hinges。



Out　stepped　Lass；tired；　confused；　a　little　frightened；　but

eagerly　willing　to　make　friends　with　a　world　which　she　still

insisted　on　believing　was　friendly。　It　is　hard　to　shake　a　collie

pup's　inborn　faith　in　the　friendliness　of　mankind；　but　once

shaken；　it　is　more　than　shaken。　It　is　shattered　beyond　hope　of

complete　mending。



For　an　instant　she　stood　thus；　looking　in　timid　appeal　from　one

to　another　of　the　faces　about　her。　These　faces　were　blank　enough

as　they　returned　her　gaze。　The　glad　expectancy　was　wiped　from

them　as　with　a　sponge。　It　was　the　Master　who　first　found　voice。



〃And　THAT'S　Rothsay　Princess！〃　he　snorted　indignantly。　〃That's

the　pup　worth　two　hundred　dollars　at　eight　months；　'because　she

has　every　single　good　point　of　Champion　Rothsay　Chief　and　not　a

flaw　from　nostril　to　tail…tip'！　Rothsay　wrote　those　very　words

about　her；　you　remember。　And　he's　supposed　to　be　the　most

dependable　man　in　the　collie　business！　Lord！　She's　undersizedno

bigger　than　a　five　monther　！　And　she's　prick…eared　and　apple…

domed；　and　her　head's　as　wide　as　a　church　door！〃



Apparently　these　humans　were　not　glad　to　see　her。　Lass　was

grieved　at　their　cold　appraisal　and　a　little　frightened　by　the

Master's　tone　of　disgust。　Yet　she　was　eager；　as　ever；　to　make　a

good　impression　and　to　lure　people　into　liking　her。　Shyly　she

walked　up　to　the　Mistress　and　laid　one　white　little　paw　on　her

knee。



Handshaking　was　Lass's　one　accomplishment。　It　had　been　taught　her

by　Dick。　It　had　pleased　the　boy。　He　had　been　proud　of　her　ability

to　do　it。　Perhaps　it　might　also　please　these　strangers。　And　after

the　odd　fashion　of　all　new　arrivals　who　came　to　The　Place；　Lass

picked　out　the　Mistress；　rather　than　any　one　else；　as　a　potential

friend。



The　Mistress　had　ever　roused　the　impatience　of　collie　experts　by

looking　past　the　showier　〃points〃　of　a　dog　and　into　the　soul　and

brain　and　disposition　that　lay　behind　them。　So　now　she　looked；

and　what　she　saw　in　Lass's　darkly　wistful　eyes　established　the

intruder's　status　at　The　Place。



〃Let　her　stay！〃　pleaded　the　Mistress　as　the　Master　growled

something　about　bundling　the　dog　into　her　crate　again　and　sending

her　back　to　the　Rothsay　Kennels。　〃Let　her　stay；　please！　She's　a

dear。〃



〃But　we're　not　breeding　'dears；'〃　observed　the　Master。　〃We

planned　to　breed　a　strain　of　perfect　collies。　And　this　is　a

mutt！〃



〃Her　pedigree　says　there's　no　better　collie　blood　in　America；〃

denied　the　Mistress。　〃And　even　if　she　happens　to　be　a　'second；'

that's　no　sign　her　puppies　will　b