It was late forenoon when we set off Florida-ward. Just after dark we
reached a big city where we were to take the through sleeper to
Jacksonville. In those days there was no Union Depot there, and it was
necessary to cross the city in order to get started on the road South.
This transfer had worried us all along, for the time was limited, and
there was all our baggage to see to and recheck, and Bruno. We arranged
that I was to take Bruno and go with him in the regular transfer
omnibus, while Julius crossed with the baggage. We thought that Bruno
and I could take care of each other, though I confess I was not willing
to have a private cab. In the well-lighted, comfortably filled 'bus I
felt safe enough, even though I was crossing a strange city at
nightfall, with only a dog for escort.
Bruno looked wistfully at the door as the 'bus started, but seemed
satisfied when I assured him it was all right.
Julius was waiting for us at the other station with tickets and checks.
When he returned from escorting Bruno to the baggage car, reporting,
"All's well," we both fairly laughed, in the relief of having passed the
most puzzling part of the journey.
I did not see Bruno again until the next morning. It was gray dawn. The
train was standing, puffing and snorting like a restless horse, on the
track under the shadow of Lookout Mountain.
On inquiry, Julius had learned that there would be a delay of a quarter
of an hour or so there, and, as he had to be up, anyway, to transfer
Bruno to another baggage car, he had planned to give him a little run;
so, as I leaned out of the car window, I saw Julius with Bruno's chain,
cup, etc., bunched in his hands, while the happy dog was galloping up
and down the roadside. He performed leaps and antics expressive of
extreme joy when I leaned out and called to him, saying to me as plainly
as possible,--
"Here we are again! Isn't it jolly?"
And I assured him that it was.
After that glimpse I saw no more of Bruno till we reached Jacksonville;
but Julius reported, from time to time, that he seemed to comprehend
the meaning of our plan of travel, and trotted along from old to new
baggage car, so eager not to be left that he tried to enter every one he
came to with doors standing open.
Early on the next morning after our stop by Lookout Mountain, we entered
the "Florida Metropolis." And now, behold, a great surprise! We had
brought thinner clothing in our hand-bags, thinking that, as we
journeyed southward, our heavy garments, built for northern winters,
would prove to be oppressive. How startling, then, to feel our features
pinched by nipping breezes as we stepped from the cars at last in the
Sunny South! True, as we passed residences on our way to the hotel, we
saw green trees and blooming flowers; but where were the balmy airs that
in our dreams were always fanning the fadeless flowers in this Mecca of
our hopes?
After leaving the cars, the most welcome sight that greeted our eager
eyes was a roaring open fire in the hotel reception-room. We thought
this a most excellent joke. They were very good to Bruno (for a
consideration) at the hotel, but it was against their rules to allow
dogs in the rooms, so he was installed in comfortable quarters outside.
Julius went with him to make sure he was satisfied, and to see that he
was watered, fed, and in good spirits before we had our own breakfast.
On the way down, as ever before, Bruno had attracted much favorable
notice. Women and girls exclaimed, "Oh, see that lovely dog!" And a
number of men scraped acquaintance with Julius by admiring notice of his
"Mighty fine dog!"
Bruno shrank from their attentions. He never made friends with
strangers, no matter how much they tried to pet him; and he never ate
anything offered to him by others unless we told him to. In fact, he was
always very particular about appropriating food. Sometimes at home, when
in a brown study, I placed his dish of food on the floor without saying
anything; but he would never begin to eat until he had gained my
attention by thrusting his nose into my hand, asking, "Is that mine?" by
questioning glances directed from me to the dish; then, when I answered,
"Yes; that's Boonie's; that's for Boonie," he would fall to and enjoy
it.
We were glad of this trait; and we often thought that but for it he
would, very early in his career, have fallen a victim to poison, for he
was greatly feared by many timid people, especially by various grocer
and butcher boys, who approached our premises with so many absurd
precautions that it seemed to afford Bruno the greatest delight to keep
them in a state of terror.