oo bloomin' big an' clumsy to be worth much," said Sam
disparagingly. "Clumsy" was no more applicable to Finn than it
would be to a panther, and Sam was well aware of it. "Tell you
what," he said, "I've got to be makin' for the station in half an
hour, anyway. I'll take the dog out o' yer way, an' give you half a
quid for him, if yer like. I shall lose on it, fer it's not likely
the boss could make any use of 'im, anyway. But I'll chance the
ducks this time, if yer like. You can't keep a bloomin' camel like
that here."

But the landlady knew her son tolerably well, and he could not
deceive her very much. When he left the house half an hour later
he was leading Finn at the end of a rusty chain, and the poorer by
twenty-five shillings than he had been an hour before. So Finn
changed hands for the second time in forty-eight hours, once for
seventy-five guineas, and once for twenty-five shillings; and upon
this second occasion the transaction was a matter of complete
indifference to him. He thought vaguely of returning to Mr.
Sandbrook's house later on. In the meantime this young man seemed
to want him to take a walk in another direction, and all ways were
alike to Finn in his bitter disappointment over not finding the
Master. He did not know that he was treading exactly the path the
Master and the Mistress had trod on the previous clay, when leaving
their lodging for the mountains. He only felt that he had now
completely lost his friends, and that he was rather well-disposed
than otherwise toward long-legged Sam, for the reason that Sam came
from the house in which the Master had lodged.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XIV

THE SOUTHERN CROSS CIRCUS

The night which followed Finn's departure from his old lodging with
Sam was the most peculiar that he had ever spent in his life, and,
not even excepting the night in Matey's back-yard in Sussex, the
most unrestful. It was the second consecutive night during which he
went practically without sleep; but on this occasion it was not so
much grief over his loss of the Master that kept him awake as the
peculiar nature of the immediate surroundings.

In the first place, the greater part of the night was spent on a
moving railway train; and, secondly, Finn's particular resting-place
was a sort of wooden cage, sheathed in iron, and having
another similar cage upon either side of it. In the compartment
upon Finn's right were two native bears. These philosophical
animals slep