absurd throbbing in Link Ferris's meridian. His callousedhands shook as he unchained Chum and motioned him to leap from thebench to the ground.
Chum obeyed, but with evident uneasiness. His odd surroundings weregetting on the collie's nerves. Link bent over him, under pretense ofgiving him a farewell rub with the brush.
"It's all right, Chummie!" he crooned soothingly. "It's all RIGHT! I'mhere. An' nobody's goin' to bother you none. You're a-helpin' me winthat hundred. An' you're lettin' these gold-shirt folks see what aclam' gorgeous dawg you be! Come along, ol' friend!"
Under the comfort of his god's voice, Chum's nervousness fled. Safe inhis sublime trust that his master would let no harm befall him, thecollie trotted toward the ring at Ferris's heels.
Three other novice dogs were already in the ring when Link arrived atthe narrow opening. The steward was sitting at the table as before. Atthe corner of the ring, alongside the platform, stood a man in tweeds,unlighted pipe in mouth, half-shut shrewd eyes studying the dogs asthey filed in through the gap in the ropes. The inscrutable eyesflickered ever so little at sight of Chum, but at once resumed theirformer disinterested gaze.
"Walk close!" whispered Link as the parade started.
Chum, hearing a command he had long since learned, ranged himself atFerris's side and paced majestically in the procession of four. Two ofthe other novice dogs were straining at their leashes; the third washanging back and pawing frantically to break away. Chum, unleashed,guided only by the voice, drew every eye to him by his rare beauty andhis lofty self-possession.
But he was not allowed to finish the parade. Stepping up to Ferris,Judge Leighton tapped him on the arm.
"Take your dog over to that corner," he ordered, "and keep him there."
Link fought back a yearning to punch the judge, and surlily he obeyedthe mandate. Into his memory jumped the things the groom had said abouta dog being "gated." If that judge thought for one second that any ofthose mutts could hold a candle to Chum--. Again he yearned to enforcewith his two willing fists his opinion of the judge.
But, as he well knew, to start a fight in this plutocratic assemblagewould mean a jail term. And in such case, what would befall thedeserted Chum? For the dog's sake he restrained himself, and he beganto edge surreptitiously toward the ring exit, with a view to slidingout unperceived with his splendid, underrated dog.
But Ferris did not reach the gate unchecked.
Judge Leighton had ended the parade and had stood the three dogs, oneby one and then two at a time, on the platform while he studied them.Then he had crossed to the table and picked up the judging book andfour ribbons--one blue, one red, one yellow and one white. Three ofthese ribbons he handed to the three contestants' handlers.
Then he stepped across the ring to where Ferris was edging his waytoward the exit; and handed Link the remaining ribbon. It was darkblue, with gilt lettering.
Leighton did not so much as subject Chum to the handling and closeinspection he had lavished on the three others. One expert glance hadtold the judge that the dark-sable collie, led by this loutishcountryman, was better fitted to clean up prizes at Madison SquareGarden than to appear in a society dog show in the North Jerseyhinterland.
Leighton had viewed Chum, as a bored musician, listening to thepiano-antics of defective children, might have regarded the playing ofa disguised Paderewski. Wherefore, he had waved the dog to one sidewhile he judged the lesser entrants, and then had given him the meritedfirst-prize ribbon.
Link, in a daze of bliss, stalked back to the bench; with Chum caperingalong at his side. The queer sixth sense of a collie told Chum his godwas deliriously happy, and that Chum himself had somehow had a share inmaking him so. Hence the dog's former gloomy pacing changed to a seriesof ecstatic little dance steps, and he kept thrusting his cold muzzleinto the cup of Ferris's palm.
Again Bench 65 was surrounded by an admiring clump of spectators. Chumand Link vied each other in their icy aloofness toward these admirers.But with a difference.
Chum was unaffectedly bothered by so much unwelcome attention fromstrangers. Ferris, on the other hand, reveled in the knowledge that hisbeloved pet was the center of more adulation than was any other dog inall the section.
Class after class went to be judged. Link was sorry he had not spentmore money and entered Chum in every class. The initial victory hadgone to his head. He had not known he could be so serenely happy. Aftera while, he started up at the attendant's droning announcement of,
"Winners' Class, Male Scotch Collies! Numbers 62, 65, 68,70, 73!"
Again Link and Chum set out for the ring. Link's glee had merged intoan all-consuming nervousness, comparable only to a maiden hunter's"buck ague." Chum, once more sensing Ferris's state of mind, lost hisown glad buoyancy and paced solemnly alongside, peering worriedly upinto Link's face at every few steps.
All five entrants filed into the ring and began their parade. Leighton,in view of the importance of this crowning event, did not single outany one dog, as before, to stand to one side; nor did he gate any. Hegave owners and spectators their full due, by a thorough inspection ofall five contestants. But as a result of his examination, he ended thesuspense by handing Link Ferris a purple rosette, whereon was blazonedin gilt the legend, "Winners."
A salvo of handclaps greeted the eminently just decision. And Chum leftthe ring, to find a score of gratulatory hands stretched forth to pathim. Quite a little crowd escorted him back to his bench.
A dozen people picked acquaintance with Link. They asked him all sortsof questions as to his dog. Link made monosyllabic and noncommittalreplies to all of these--even when the great Col. Cyrus Marden himselfdeigned to come over to the collie section and stare at Chum,accompanying his scrutiny with a volley or patronizing inquiries.
From the bystanders Link learned something of real interest--namely,that one of the "specials" was a big silver cup, to be awarded to "bestcollie of either sex"; and that after the females should have been,judged, the winning female and Chum must appear in the ring together tocompete for this trophy.
Sure enough, in less than thirty minutes Chum was summoned to the ring.There, awaiting him, was a dainty and temperamental merle, of theTazewell strain. Exquisite and high-bred as was this female competitor,Judge Leighton wasted little time on the examination before givingFerris a tricolored ribbon, whose possession entitled him to one of theshimmering silver mugs in the near-by trophy case.
After receiving full assurance that the big cup should be his at theclose of the show, Link returned to Chum's bench in ecstasy and satdown beside his tired dog, with one arm thrown lovingly round thecollie's ruff. Chum nestled against his triumphant master, as Linkfondled his bunch of ribbons and went over, mentally, every move of histriumphal morning.
The milling and changing groups of spectators in front of Bench 65 didnot dwindle. Indeed, as the morning went on, they increased. Peoplekept coming back to the bench and bringing others with them. Some ofthese people whispered together. Some merely stared and went away. Someasked Ferris carefully worded questions, to which the shyly happymountaineer replied with sheepish grunts.
The long period of judging came at last to an end. And the "Best Dog inShow" special was called.
Into the ring Ferris escorted Chum, amid a multitude of fellow winners,representing one male or female of every breed exhibited. Leighton andanother judge stood in the ring's center, and around them billowed theheterogeneous array. The two went at their Gargantuan task with anexpert swiftness. Mercilessly, dog after dog was weeded out and gated.At last, Chum and two others were all remaining of the many which hadthronged the ring. The spectators were banked, five deep andbreathless, round the ropes.
The two judges went into brief executive session in one corner. ThenLeighton crossed to Link, for the fourth time that day, and gave himthe gaudy rosette which proclaimed Chum "best dog in the show." A roarof applause went up. Link felt dizzy--and numb. Then, with a gasp ofrapture, he stooped and gathered the bored Chum in his long arms, in abearlike, ecst
atic hug.
"We done it, Chummie!" he chortled. "WE DONE IT!"
Still in a daze, he followed the steward to the trophy case, where hereceived not only the shining silver cup, but a "sovereign purse,"wherein were ensconced ten ten-dollar gold pieces.
It was all a dream--a wonder dream from which presently he must awaken.Link was certain of that. But while the golden dream lasted, he knewthe nameless joys of paradise.
Chum close at his side, he made his way through the congratulatingcrowd toward the outer gate of the country club grounds. He had almostreached the wicket when someone touched him, with unnecessary firmness,on the shoulder.
Not relishing the familiarity, Link turned a scowling visage on theinterrupter of his triumphal homeward progress. At his elbow stood astockily-built man,
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