Dog Diaries 07 - Stubby Read Online Free PDF Page A

your barracks bag. Others in command might not be quite so willingto turn such a blind eye. So watch yourself.”
    “No, sir. Yes, sir,” said Conroy.
    “Good luck over there, soldier,” Sarge said. “Take care of yourself, and watch out for the furry little guy.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    The truck ride was dark and bumpy and smelled like gasoline. “The furry little guy” was feeling sick to his furry stomach. I told my growling guts to settle down and quit beefing. It could have been worse. At least Conroy hadn’t left me behind with Sarge.
    When we got to the train station, Conroy let me out long enough to lift my leg on the tracks. Then I got back into the bag. “We have to stow our gear in the baggage car, Stubby. You’re going to be alone for a while. Keep your head and lie low, okay?”

    I licked him to let him know that I’d be a good dog. Wasn’t I always?
    Conroy saw to it that my bag was on the top of the pile so I wasn’t squished. He loosened the top so I could come and go to do my business. I kept my head and lay low. But it was lonely in the baggage car. I fell asleep to the clickety-clack sound of the train on the rails. Every now and then, I wouldscooch out of the bag and lift a leg in the corner. Then I scooched back in. There were cracks in the side of the baggage car, and the wind whistled through, making a low, lonesome sound. What with one thing or another, I was a miserable wreck.
    Finally, someone shouted, “Newport News, Virginia—last stop!”
    The train stopped with a long, loud chuff of steam. I smelled salty sea air and saw seagoing birds like we sometimes got in New Haven wheeling in the sky.
    Conroy came for me. When he peered into the bag, I was shaking all over. He looked worried. He opened his coat. “Climb in here. I’ll keep you warm.”
    Gratefully, I crawled out of the bag and under his coat. He buttoned me in tight. I peered out between the buttonholes, and what did I see? Thisgreat, big, hulking thing bigger than a whole block of buildings floating in the water.
    “That’s our ship,” said Conroy. “It’s going to be our home for the next few weeks.”
    I wasn’t a big dog, but I was no teacup poodle, either. With me under his coat, Conroy waddled up the gangplank. Luckily, the ship’s officers were too busy to notice the bulge beneath Private Conroy’s coat. Either that, or they figured he was one fat soldier boy.
    Conroy was waddling along a corridor when his friend caught up with him. I stuck my nose out to say howdy-do. The buddy didn’t think I was one bit cute. He grabbed Conroy by the sleeve and whispered in a harsh voice, “Are you nuts bringing him to your cabin? I hear this captain runs a tight ship. The last pet that stowed away got tossed overboard.”
    I didn’t know where overboard was, but it didn’t sound good. I sure hoped Conroy knew what he was doing.
    Conroy halted and stroked his chin. “I never thought of that,” he said.
    After some dithering, he started climbing down a whole bunch of ladders. Down and down we went, until we were at the very bottom of the ship, where the engine was. It hummed so loud, Conroy had to shout to make himself heard. He stashed me away in a nasty little room where they stored the coal to feed the engine.
    “WHEN THE ENGINE GUYS COME IN TO SHOVEL UP THE COAL—HIDE!” Conroy said. “AND WHATEVER YOU DO, DON’T LET ANYBODY SHOVEL YOU INTO THE FURNACE.”



A DVICE FROM A H ORSE
    Conroy came down twice a day to feed and water me and pick up my business. I kept hoping he would take me up for a walk in the fresh air. After all, I was a street dog, and I liked my freedom. Down there, I felt like a prisoner. The loud, steady drone of the engine was beginning to get to me. I was ready to bust out and make a run for it, when Conroy came to my rescue.
    “YOU NEED SOME AIR!” he shouted overthe engine’s roar. “I’M GOING TO TAKE YOU UP ON DECK FOR A FEW MINUTES.”
    If you think it’s easy for someone to climb