"Then what's the trouble?" asked Dick, as he prepared to follow the colored man to the car ahead. "Why dere's a man in de car, an' yo' dog won't let him go out." "Won't let him go out?" asked Dick, wonderingly. "No, sah! He jest completely won't let him go out ob dat car, and he's keepin' him right by de do, so de baggage man can't slide out no trunks, no how. An' we's comin' to a station soon, where dem trunks hab jest natchally gotter be put off." "I'll see what's the matter," promised Dick, hurrying on. "Be back in a minute," he called to his chums. "If you want any help, send for us!" suggested Paul, "though," he added in a lower voice, "if Grit is on a rampage I'd rather not interfere--that is, personally." Dick found matters as the porter had described. A rather flashily dressed young man stood close against one of the side doors of the baggage car, while Grit, who had broken his chain, stood in front of him, with his bowed front legs far apart, and his black lips drawn back from his teeth. From time to time the bulldog growled menacingly, especially whenever the young man moved. The baggageman, with a puzzled expression on his face, had placed some trunks in the middle of the car, ready to be put out of the side door when the next station stop should be reached. "But every time I try to get out of the way," said the flashily dressed man, "this confounded dog of yours acts as if he was going to eat me up. I daren't move. Call him off or I'll kick him, and break his jaw." "I wouldn't," said Dick, quietly. "It would probably be your last kick--with that foot, anyhow." "Something has to be done," declared the baggage man. "I must put these trunks off soon. That door's on the station side, and the other door opens against a high concrete wall. I can't get a trunk off there." "I'll take care of Grit," said Dick. "What did you do to him?" he asked the young fellow. "Nothing." "Oh, yes you did," said Dick, quietly. "Grit doesn't act that way for nothing. Come here," he called, and the dog obeyed, though with fierce backward glances at the man by the door. "Now you can move," went on Dick. "What did they do to you, old fellow?" he asked, as he bent over his pet. Grit's neck was bleeding slightly where his collar had cut him as he wrenched against the chain, and broke it. "He pulled his tail--that's what he did," asserted the now relieved baggageman. "I told him to let the dog alone, for I saw it was a thoroughbred, and was nervous. But he got funny with the animal, and then your dog broke loose, and drove him against the door." "You're lucky he didn't bite you," said Dick, as he loosened the chafing collar. "He only wanted to teach you a lesson, I guess. Next time don't fool with a bulldog." "If he'd a' bit me I'd a' had the law on you," threatened the young man, as he hurried out of the car, followed by the resentful glare of Grit.