nd and was depressed with apprehension of he knew not what
terrible fate awaited him and was close at hand. Never, in his
experience of men, had he been so treated, while the confinement of the
box was maddening with its suggestion of the trap. Trapped he was, and
helpless, and the ultimate evil of life had happened to Steward, who had
evidently been swallowed up by the Nothingness which had swallowed up
Meringe, the _Eugenie_, the Solomon Islands, the _Makambo_, Australia,
and the _Mary Turner_.

Suddenly, from a distance, came a bedlam of noise that made Michael prick
up his ears and bristle with premonition of fresh disaster. It was a
confused yelping, howling, and barking of many dogs.

"Holy Smoke!--It's them damned acting dogs," growled the baggageman to
his mate. "There ought to be a law against dog-acts. It ain't decent."

"It's Peterson's Troupe," said the other. "I was on when they come in
last week. One of 'em was dead in his box, and from what I could see of
him it looked mighty like he'd had the tar knocked outa him."

"Got a wollopin' from Peterson most likely in the last town and then was
shipped along with the bunch and left to die in the baggage car."

The bedlam increased as the animals were transferred from the wagon to a
platform truck, and when the truck rolled up and stopped alongside
Michael's he made out that it was piled high with crated dogs. In truth,
there were thirty-five dogs, of every sort of breed and mostly mongrel,
and that they were far from happy was attested by their actions. Some
howled, some whimpered, others growled and raged at one another through
the slots, and many maintained a silence of misery. Several licked and
nursed bruised feet. Smaller dogs that did not fight much were crammed
two or more into single crates. Half a dozen greyhounds were crammed
into larger crates that were anything save large enough.

"Them's the high-jumpers," said the first baggageman. "An' look at the
way they're packed. Peterson ain't going to pay any more excess baggage
than he has to. Not half room enough for them to stand up. It must be
hell for them from the time they leave one town till they arrive at the
next."

But what the baggageman did not know was that in the towns the hell was
not mitigated, that the dogs were still confined in their too-narrow
prisons, that, in fact, they were life-prisoners. Rarely, except for
their acts, were they taken out from their cages. Fr