CHAPTER II.
The Battle
He felt one of the men pinion his waving arms, while the other crouchedon his legs and proceeded to unpin the money pocket. Ferris struggledfor an instant in futile fury, trying to shout for help. The call wasstrangled in his throat. But the help came to him, none the less.
Scarce three seconds had passed since the attempt to rob him had setLink into action and had wrung from him that yell of consternation.
But in answer came a swirling patter of feet on the road, a snarl likea wolf's, a shape that catapulted through the dark. Sixty pounds offur-swathed dynamic muscle smote athwart the shoulders of the man whowas unfastening the cash pocket's pin.
The impact hurled the fellow clean off his crouching balance and senthim sprawling, face downward, his outflung hands splashing in themargin of the lake. Before he could roll over or so much as stir, a setof white fangs met in his shoulder-flesh. And he testified to hisinjury by an eldritch screech of pain and terror that echoed far acrossthe water.
His companion, rallying from the momentary shock, left Ferris andcharged at the prostrate thief's assailant. But Chum met him, with afierce eagerness, more than half way.
A true collie--thanks to his strain of wolf bloodfights as does noother dog. What he lacks in stubborn determination he atones for byswiftness and by his uncanny brain power.
A bulldog, for example, would have flown to his master's relief quiteas readily as did Chum. But a bulldog would have secured the firstconvenient hold and would have hung on to that hold, whether it were athis victim's throat or only on the slack of his trousers--until someoneshould hammer him into senselessness.
Chum--collie-fashion--was everywhere at once, using his brain far morethan his flying jaws. Finding the grip in his foe's shoulder did notprevent the man from twisting round to grapple him, the collie shiftedthat grip with lightning speed, and with one of his gleaming eyeteethslashed his opponent's halfturned cheek from eye to chin. Then he boredstraight for the jugular.
It was at this crisis that he sensed, rather than saw, the other manrushing at him. Chum left his fallen antagonist and whirled about toface the new enemy. As he was still turning, he sprang far to one side,in bare time to elude a swinging kick aimed at his head.
Then, before the thief could recover the balance endangered by somighty a kick, the collie had whirled in and sunk his teeth deep in theman's calf. The bitten man let out a roar of pain, and smote wildly atthe dog's face with both swinging fists.
Chum leaped back out of range, and then, with the same bewilderingspeed, flashed in again and buried his curved fangs in the nearest ofthe two flailing forearms.
The first victim of the collie's attack was scrambling to his feet. Sowas Link Ferris. Sobered enough to recognize his beloved dog, he alsosaw the newrisen thief catch up a broken fence rail, brandish it aloftand charge upon the collie, who was still battling merrily with thesecond man.
To Link it seemed that nothing could save Chum from a backbreaking blowfrom the huge club. Instinctively he ran at the wielder of theformidable weapon. Staggering and sick and two-thirds drunk, Ferris,nevertheless, made valiant effort to save the dog that was fighting sogallantly for him.
His lurching rush carried him across the narrow road and to the lakeedge, barely in time to intercept the swinging sweep of the fence rail.It caught him glancingly across the side. And its force carried himclean off his none-too-steady feet. Down went Ferris--down andbackward. His body plunged noisily into the water.
Chum had wheeled to face the rail's brandisher. But at sight of hismaster's sudden immersion in the lake, he quitted the fray. At topspeed the dog cleared the bank and jumped down into the water inpursuit of Ferris.
It evidently dawned on both men at once that there had been a good dealof noise, for what was to have been a silent and decorous holdup. Alsothat a raging collie is not a pleasant foe. The racket might well drawinterference from outside. The dog was overhard to kill, and his biteswere murderous. The game had ceased to be worth the candle. By commonimpulse the pair took to their heels.
Link Ferris, head down in the cold water, was strangling in his maudlinefforts to right himself. He dug both hands into the lake-bottom mudand strove to gain the surface. But the effort was too much for him. Asecond frantic heave had better results. And vaguely he knew why.
For Chum had managed to get a firm hold on the shoulder of his master'scoat--twelve inches under water--and had braced himself with all hiswiry strength for a tug which should lift Ferris to the surface.
This added leverage barely made Link's own struggle a success. Thehalf-drowned man regained his footing. Floundering waist-deep in water,he clambered up the steeply shelving bank to shore. There at the road'sedge he lay, gasping and sputtering and fighting for breath.
Chum had been pulled under and out of his depth by Link's exertions.Now, coming to the surface, he swam to shore and trotted up the bank tothe road. Absurdly lank and small, with his soaking coat plasteredclose to his slim body, he stood over his prostrate master.
The dog's quick glare up and down the road told him his foes were gone.His incredible sense of hearing registered the far-off pad-pad-pad offast-retreating human feet, and showed him the course the two men weretaking. He would have liked to give chase. It had been a goodfight--lively and exciting withal--and Chum wished he might carry itinto the enemies' own country.
But his god was lying helpless at his feet and making queer sounds ofdistress. The dog's place was here. The joy of battle must be foregone.
Solicitously Chum leaned over Ferris and sought to lick the sufferer'sface. As he did so his supersensitive nostrils were smitten by an odorwhich caused the collie to shrink back in visible disgust. The sickly,pungent smell of whisky on Ferris's labored breath nauseated Chum. Hestood, head recoiled, looking down at Link in bewilderment.
There were many things, this night, which Chum did not understand.First of all, he had been grieved and offended that Ferris should havelocked him in the kitchen instead of taking him along as usual on hisevening stroll. It had been lonely in the unlighted kitchen. Link hadnot ordered the dog to stay there. He had simply shut Chum in and lefthim.
So, tiring at last of solitude, the collie had leaped lightly out ofthe nearest window. The window had been open. Its thin mosquito netcovering had not served in the least as a deterrent to the departingChum.
To pick up his master's trail--and to hold to it even when it mergedwith a score of others at the edge of the village--had been absurdlysimple. The trail had led to a house with closed doors. So, aftercircling the tavern to find if his master had gone out by any otherexit, Chum had curled himself patiently on the doorstep and had waitedfor Link to emerge.
Several people had come in and out while he lay there. But all of themhad shut the door too soon for him to slip inside.
At last Ferris had appeared between his two new friends. Chum had beenfriskily happy to see his long-absent god again. He had sprung forwardto greet Link. Then, his odd collie sense had told him that for somereason this staggering and hiccuping creature was not the master whomhe knew and loved. This man was strangely different from the LinkFerris whom Chum knew.
Puzzled, the dog had halted and had stood irresolute. As he stoodthere, Ferris had stumbled heavily over him, hurting the collie's ribsand his tender flesh; and had meandered on without so much as a word ora look for his pet.
Chum, still irresolute and bewildered, had followed at a distance theswaying progress of the trio, until Link's yell and the attack hadbrought him in furious haste to Ferris's rescue.
Link presently recovered enough of his breath to enable him to move.The ducking in icy water had cleared his bemused brain. Approximatelysober, he got to his feet and stood swaying and dazed. As he rose, hisgroping hand closed over something cold and hard that had fallen to theground beside him. And he recognized it. So he picked it up and stuckit into his pocket.
It was a pint flask of whisky--one he had received as a farewell gi
ftfrom his two friends as the three had left the tavern. It had been aneasy gift for the men to make. For they were confidently certain ofrecovering it a few minutes later when they should go through theirvictim's clothes. Dawning intelligence told Link he had not comethrough the adventure very badly, after all--thanks to Chum. Ferriswell understood now why the thieves had picked acquaintance with him atsight of his money, and why they had gotten him drunk.
The memory of what he had escaped gave him a new qualm of nausea. Theloss of his cash would have meant suspended credit at the store and theleanest three months he had ever known.
But soon the joy in his triumph wiped out this thought.
The native North Jersey mountaineer has a peculiar vein of cunningwhich makes him morbidly eager to get the best of anyone at all--evenif the victory brings him nothing worth while.
Link Ferris had had an evening of limitless liquor. He still had a pintof whisky to take home. And it had cost him not a cent, except for hisfirst two
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