But soon the joy in his triumph wiped out this thought.
The native North Jersey mountaineer has a peculiar vein of
cunning which makes him morbidly eager to get the best of anyone
at all--even if the victory brings him nothing worth while.
Link Ferris had had an evening of limitless liquor. He still had
a pint of whisky to take home. And it had cost him not a cent,
except for his first two rounds of drinks.
He had had his spree. He still had all his check money. And he
had a flask of whisky. True, he had been roughly handled. And he
had had a ducking in the lake. But those were his sole
liabilities. They were insignificant by comparison to his assets.
He grinned in smug self-gratulation. Then his eye fell on Chum,
standing ten feet away, looking uncertainly at him.
Chum! To Chum he owed it all! He owed the dog his money, perhaps
his very life. Yes--as he rehearsed the struggle to get out of
the lake--he owed the collie his life as well as his victory over
the holdup men. To Chum!
A great wave of love and gratitude surged up in Ferris.
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