. 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 so
mighty a kick, the collie had whirled in and sunk his teeth deep in the
man's calf. The bitten man let out a roar of pain, and smote wildly at
the dog's face with both swinging fists.

Chum leaped back out of range, and then, with the same bewildering
speed, flashed in again and buried his curved fangs in the nearest of
the two flailing forearms.

The first victim of the collie's attack was scrambling to his feet. So
was Link Ferris. Sobered enough to recognize his beloved dog, he also
saw the newrisen thief catch up a broken fence rail, brandish it aloft
and charge upon the collie, who was still battling merrily with the
second man.

To Link it seemed that nothing could save Chum from a backbreaking blow
from the huge club. Instinctively he ran at the wielder of the
formidable weapon. Staggering and sick and two-thirds drunk, Ferris,
nevertheless, made valiant effort to save the dog that was fighting so
gallantly for him.

His lurching rush carried him across the narrow road and to the lake
edge, barely in time to intercept the swinging sweep of the fence rail.
It caught him glancingly across the side. And its force carried him
clean off his none-too-steady feet. Down went Ferris--down and
backward. His body plunged noisily into the water.

Chum had wheeled to face the rail's brandisher. But at sight of his
master's sudden immersion in the lake, he quitted the fray. At top
speed the dog cleared the bank and jumped down into the water in
pursuit of Ferris.

It evidently dawned on both men at once that there had been a good deal
of noise, for what was to have been a silent and decorous holdup. Also
that a raging collie is not a pleasant foe. The racket might well draw
interference from outside. The dog was overhard to kill, and his bites
were murderous. The game had ceased to be worth the candle. By common
impulse the pair took to their heels.

Link Ferris, head down in the cold water, was strangling in his maudlin
efforts to right himself. He dug both hands into the lake-bottom mud
and strove to gain the surface. But the effort was too much for him. A
second 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's
coat--twelve inches under water--and had braced