Part 2 — AN UNDER-GROUND ESCAPE.

BY W. W. FENN.

Snap, my little fox-terrier, was the most affectionate and devoted dog I ever remember. It mattered not where I went, he was sure to be close to my heels, and the thicker the crowd, the closer he kept to them. For the three years that I lived in London, in all our wanderings I never once missed him or had any trouble with him.

As far as possible, dogs are prohibited from travelling on the under-ground railway; but as I had constantly to travel by it from King's Cross to Paddington, and Snap's habit of keeping close being well known to the officials, they winked at his accompanying me.

On a certain afternoon, being, as usual, on my way to Paddington, and a train being due at King's Cross, I made a rush for it, and reached the platform just as a train was coming into the station.

Jumping into a compartment, I looked to see if the dog was with me, but to my dismay, as a porter slammed the door and the train began to move, I observed Snap on the platform, running wildly up and down looking for me. Suddenly he saw me at the window, but it was too late; and as we entered the darkness of the tunnel, I heard him give a despairing bark.

I felt angry with myself for not looking after him more carefully, and resolved to get out at the next station and go back for him. But how had he missed me? I could not understand it, for he had never done such a thing before. Five minutes brought us to Gower Street, and a train then due took me back in another five minutes to where I had started from.

"Have you seen my dog?" I asked of a porter there who knew me.

"Your dog, sir?" answered the man. "Oh yes, to be sure. You left him behind, didn't you? Well, as the train went into the tunnel, I saw him jump from the platform and follow it."

"What!" I said; "he wasn't following it when we reached Gower Street."

"Wasn't he? Then I expect he's still in the tunnel. The train went too fast for him to keep up with it."

"He'll be run over!" I exclaimed, very nervous for Snap's safety.

"Tell you what, sir. I'll go and get permission, if you like, from the inspector to take a lantern and see if we can find him."

I thanked the man, and he started off to get the necessary permission, which the inspector gave, after saying something about people having no right to bring dogs into the station. Together the man and I then went into the tunnel.

The unaccustomed darkness, to say nothing of the perils of such an expedition, inspired me with considerable dread, and I kept tight hold of my guide's arm. When we had advanced some two or three hundred yards along the under-ground highway, or rather "low" way, the lights of an up-train became visible. As it went by and we stood still for a minute, the roar and rattle were not calculated to dispel my nervousness. They were terrible—deafening. Immediately it had passed, the porter cried out,

"Look there, sir—look; there he goes!"

He was pointing toward the red danger light at the tail of the receding train, and there, sure enough, was Snap scampering after it at a pace which no one could have given a fox-terrier credit for. I began to call and whistle as loudly as I could, but my voice was drowned by the hissing whir and rattle going on. Just then another engine hove in sight on our line of rails, and we had rapidly to step back into one of the recesses, or man-holes, as I believe they are called. When this second train had shot past us, there again, to our astonishment, was Snap galloping after it. He had not observed us, of course. We then walked on some little way further along the tunnel, and in a minute another up-train passed us, and there once more was the dog behind it.

"How ridiculous," I cried, "and yet how painful, to see the poor little beast tearing to and fro for dear life in this way! He will surely be run over before long."

But the reason was obvious: he could not keep up with the speed of the train, and by the time it had distanced him, another probably passed in the opposite direction, when, confused by the noise and turmoil, he turned immediately and pursued that. It seemed to me simply marvellous that he had escaped the wheels even so far in these agonizing efforts to find me.

As the lights of the next engine came in view, I resolved to give the last carriage just time to pass, and then to rush out, and, if possible, to intercept my poor pet, for I expected him again to return with that. I was not mistaken, and as I slipped from the man-hole in front of the dog, the porter held his lantern so that its light fell full upon my form. Snap instantly recognized, me, and with one bound and a breathless yelp landed on my breast, and clasping me tightly round the neck with his two fore-legs as if they had been the arms of a loving child, he rubbed his wet nose excitedly against my face. Terrified well-nigh unto death, gasping and exhausted, and all the time uttering a plaintive little wail of delight, he lay almost motionless in this position for several minutes, while his affectionate heart beat like a small sledge-hammer against mine. This simple but intense demonstration of canine devotion, in the gloomy depths of the under-ground, with only the faint rays of the porter's lamp to illuminate the scene, was very touching.

"You have got a noble little chap there, sir," said the man, as he led the way cautiously back to the platform. "He was worth a bit of trouble to find, and no mistake."

"Quite true, my friend," I answered, "and I'll take good care for the future to pop him under my arm when I travel on the Metropolitan Railway again."

"I reckon he won't give ye the chance, sir," said the man. "I know a bit about dogs, and I shouldn't wonder if he fights shy of the stations altogether after this."

The man was right, for never since that day have I been able to induce Snap to come within yards of the head of the railway station stairs. Coax and cajole him as I will, he always resists. He looks up at me with such a pitiful expression, as much as to say, "Why, you wouldn't risk losing me again, would you?" That I have at last conceded the point to him you will readily understand, for I need hardly add that if I had a strong regard for my dog before, it has grown into a real and strong affection now.