"No use of that, kid!" interposed Link, kneeling beside the
collie he loved and smoothing the soiled and rumpled fur. "It's
easier to drop out of life than what it is to come back to it
again. Well," he went on harshly, turning to the weeping Dorcas,
"the question has answered itself, you see. No need now to tell
me to get rid of him. He's saved me the bother. Like he was
always saving me bother. That being Chum's way."
Something in his throat impeded his fierce speech. And he bent
over the dog again, his rough hands smoothing the pitifully still
body with loving tenderness. Dorcas, weeping hysterically, fell
on her knees beside Chum and put her arms about the huddled
shape. She seemed to be trying to say something, her lips close
to one of the furry little ears.
"No use!" broke in Ferris, his voice as grating as a file's. "He
can't hear you now. No good to tell him you hate dogs; or that
you're glad you've saw the last of him. Even if he was alive, he
wouldn't understand that. He'd never been spoke to that way.
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