It set old memories to working.
The Ferris farm, since Link's birth, had been perhaps the only
home in all that wild region which did not boast a dog of some
kind. Link's father had had an inborn hatred of dogs. He would
not allow one on the place. His overt excuse was that they killed
sheep and worried cattle, and that he could not afford to risk
the well-being of his scanty hoard of stock.
Thus, Link had grown to manhood with no dog at his heels, and
without knowing the normal human's love for canine chumship.
The primal instinct, long buried, stirred within him now; at
touch of the warm tongue on his calloused hand and at sound of
that friendly tail wagging in the dry grass. Ashamed of the
stirrings in him, he sought to explain them by reminding himself
that this was probably a valuable animal and that a reward might
be offered for his return. In which case Link Ferris might as
well profit by the cash windfall as anyone else.
Taking off his coat, Ferris spread it on the ground. Then,
lifting the stricken collie as gently as he could, he deposited
him on the coat and rolled its frayed edges about him.
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