cession of four. Two of
the other novice dogs were straining at their leashes; the third was
hanging back and pawing frantically to break away. Chum, unleashed,
guided only by the voice, drew every eye to him by his rare beauty and
his 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 obeyed
the mandate. Into his memory jumped the things the groom had said about
a dog being "gated." If that judge thought for one second that any of
those mutts could hold a candle to Chum--. Again he yearned to enforce
with his two willing fists his opinion of the judge.

But, as he well knew, to start a fight in this plutocratic assemblage
would mean a jail term. And in such case, what would befall the
deserted Chum? For the dog's sake he restrained himself, and he began
to edge surreptitiously toward the ring exit, with a view to sliding
out 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, one
by 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 and
four ribbons--one blue, one red, one yellow and one white. Three of
these ribbons he handed to the three contestants' handlers.

Then he stepped across the ring to where Ferris was edging his way
toward the exit; and handed Link the remaining ribbon. It was dark
blue, with gilt lettering.

Leighton did not so much as subject Chum to the handling and close
inspection he had lavished on the three others. One expert glance had
told the judge that the dark-sable collie, led by this loutish
countryman, was better fitted to clean up prizes at Madison Square
Garden than to appear in a society dog show in the North Jersey
hinterland.

Leighton had viewed Chum, as a bored musician, listening to the
piano-antics of defective children, might have regarded the playing of
a disguised Paderewski. Wherefore, he had waved the dog to one side
while he judged the lesser entrants, and then had given him the merited
first-prize ribbon.

Link, in a daze of bliss, stalked back to the bench; with Chum capering
along at his side. The queer sixth sense of a collie told Chum his god
was deliriously happy