“Please, sir, Mister, don’t call me out of my name,” begged June earnestly. “My name’s Junius.” “All right, Junius.” The proprietor of the lunch-wagon grinned at Wayne and winked, but Wayne only frowned. “You’ll have a sandwich, June,” he said. “Pie isn’t good for you. Two ham sandwiches, please.” “All right, sir.” June watched wistfully while the knife slipped through the end of the ham, and at last hunger got the better of manners. “Mister Denny, sir, would you please, sir, just bear down a little heavier on that fat meat?” he requested. “Sure, you can have all the fat you want. How’d you know my name, though?” Wayne answered for him. “A man at the freight shed directed us.” “Yes, sir, and he said we was to tell you to give us a mighty good feed, Mister Denny,” added June. “But I reckon you-all goin’ to do that anyway, ain’ you?” The proprietor laughed as he covered two slices of buttered bread with generous slices of ham. “That’s right, Snow--I mean Junius,” he responded. “If that ain’t enough you come back. Want something for your dog?” “Thanks, I’ll give him some of my sandwich,” said Wayne, trying not to look impatient. “You don’t need to.” The man scooped up some trimmings from the ham on the blade of the broad knife, dumped them on a slice of bread and leaned over the counter. “Here you are, Bingo. Catch!” Sam caught as much as he could and it disappeared as though by magic. After that he licked up the few scraps that had got away from him, wagged his tail delightedly, and gazed inquiringly and invitingly up again. “Say, he’s a smart dog, ain’t he?” said the man. “What’s his name?” “Sam. Are those sandwiches ready, please?” “Huh? Gee, didn’t I serve you yet? What do you know about that? Coffee, you said, didn’t you? Here you are.” He went back to an appraisal of the dog while Wayne and June, side by side, drank deep draughts of the hot coffee and bit huge mouthfuls from the delicious sandwiches. “Guess some more breakfast wouldn’t bust him,” said the proprietor, cutting off another slice of bread and buttering it liberally. “Can he do any tricks?” “A few,” replied Wayne rather inarticulately by reason of having his mouth occupied by other things than words. “Sit up, Sam, and ask for it.” Sam sat up, a trifle unsteadily, and barked three shrill barks. The man laughed. “Good boy! Here you are, then!” The piece of bread disappeared instantly. “Say, he’s sure hungry! What kind of a dog is he?” “Reckon he’s just dog,” answered Wayne. “He don’t boast of his family much, Sam don’t, but he’s a good old chap.” “Man over yonder at the railroad called him a alligator hound,” said June resentfully. “That’s the best dog in Colquitt County, Mister Denny. Yes, sir!” “Where’s that, Junius?” “Colquitt? That’s where we lives at when we’re to home. Colquitt County’s the finest----” “Shut up, June. Don’t talk so much,” said Wayne. “Sam, stand up and march for the gentleman. Come on! Forward! March!”