e many parts of the immortal
essay from which the man gleaned no more sense than did the collie.

It began with a promising account of a puppy named Pelleas. But midway
it branched off into something else. Something Link could not make head
nor tail of. Then, on second reading, bits of Maeterlinck's meaning,
here and there, seeped into Ferris's bewilderedly groping intellect.

He learned, among other things, that Man is all alone on earth; that
most animals don't know he is here, and that the rest of them have no
use for him. That even flowers and crops will desert him and run again
to wildness, if Man turns his back on them for a minute. So will his
horse, his cow and his sheep. They graft on him for a living, and they
hate or ignore him.

The dog alone, Link spelled out, has pierced the vast barrier between
humans and other beasts, and has ranged himself, willingly and
joyously, on the side of Man. For Man's sake the dog will not only
starve and suffer and lay down his life, but will betray his fellow
quadrupeds. Man is the dog's god. And the dog is the only living mortal
that has the privilege of looking upon the face of his deity.

All of which was doubtless very interesting, and part of which thrilled
Ferris, but none of which enlightened him as to a dog's uncanny wisdom
in certain things and his blank stupidity in others. Next day Link
returned the book to the library, no wiser than before, albeit with a
higher appreciation of his own good luck in being the god of one
splendid dog like Chum.

July had drowsed into August, and August was burning its sultry way
toward September. Link's quarterly check from the Paterson Market
arrived. And Ferris went as usual to the Hampton store to get it
cashed. This tine he stood in less dire need of money's life-saving
qualities than of yore. It had been a good summer for Link. The liquor
out of his system and with a new interest in life, he had worked with a
snap and vigor which had brought results in hard cash.

None the less, he was glad for this check. In another month the annual
interest on his farm mortgage would fall due. And the meeting of that
payment was always a problem. This year he would be less cruelly
harassed by it than before.

Yet, all the more, he desired extra money. For a startlingly original
ambition had awakened recently in his heart--namely, to pay off a
little of the mortgage's principal along with the interest.

At first the idea had staggere