me over the best. Talk it up. I have the turn. A
winner. Nothing like it. Don't talk up top price but way over top
price. Prepare them for the dog when I give them the chance for the
once over. You know me. I am giving it straight. This will head the
bill anywhere all the time_."

CHAPTER XXIII

Came the crate. Because Del Mar brought it into the baggage-room,
Michael was suspicious of it. A minute later his suspicion was
justified. Del Mar invited him to go into the crate, and he declined.
With a quick deft clutch on the collar at the back of his neck, Del Mar
jerked him off his footing and thrust him in, or partly in, rather,
because he had managed to get a hold on the edge of the crate with his
two forepaws. The animal trainer wasted no time. He brought the
clenched fist of his free hand down in two blows, rat-tat, on Michael's
paws. And Michael, at the pain, relaxed both holds. The next instant he
was thrust inside, snarling his indignation and rage as he vainly flung
himself at the open bars, while Del Mar was locking the stout door.

Next, the crate was carried out to an express wagon and loaded in along
with a number of trunks. Del Mar had disappeared the moment he had
locked the door, and the two men in the wagon, which was now bouncing
along over the cobblestones, were strangers. There was just room in the
crate for Michael to stand upright, although he could not lift his head
above the level of his shoulders. And so standing, his head pressed
against the top, a rut in the road, jolting the wagon and its contents,
caused his head to bump violently.

The crate was not quite so long as Michael, so that he was compelled to
stand with the end of his nose pressing against the end of the crate. An
automobile, darting out from a cross-street, caused the driver of the
wagon to pull in abruptly and apply the brake. With the crate thus
suddenly arrested, Michael's body was precipitated forward. There was no
brake to stop him, unless the soft end of his nose be considered the
brake, for it was his nose that brought his body to rest inside the
crate.

He tried lying down, confined as the space was, and made out better,
although his lips were cut and bleeding by having been forced so sharply
against his teeth. But the worst was to come. One of his forepaws
slipped out through the slats or bars and rested on the bottom of the
wagon where the trunks were squeaking, screeching,