o about dressed in funny knee pants and with a
leather bag of misshapen clubs over his shoulder. Link had seen him
again and again. He had seen the Colonel's enormous house at Craigswold
Manor, too. He had no doubt Marden could afford this gift of a hundred
dollars.

"TO THE BEST DOG OF ANY BREED!"

Ferris knew nothing about the various breeds of dogs. But he did know
that Chum was by far the best and most beautiful and the wisest dog
ever born. If Marden were offering a hundred dollar prize for the best
dog, there was not another dog on earth fit to compete with Chum. That
was a cinch.

As for the hundred dollars--why, it would be a godsend on the mortgage
payment! Every cent of it could go toward the principal. That meant
Ferris could devote the extra few dollars he had already saved for the
principal to the buying of fertilizers and several sorely-needed
utensils and to the shingling of the house.

Avid for more news of the offer, he entered the store and hunted up the
postmaster, who also chanced to be the store's proprietor and the mayor
of Hampton and the local peace justice. Of this Pooh-Bah the inquiring
Ferris sought for details.

"Some of the Red Cross ladies from up Craigswold way were here this
morning, to have me nail that sign on the store," reported the
postmaster. "They're making a tour of all the towns hereabouts. They
asked me to try to int'rest folks at Hampton in their show, too, and
get them to make entries. They left me a bunch of blanks. Want one?"

"Yep," said Link. "I guess I'll take one if it don't cost nothin',
please."

He studied the proffered entry blank with totally uncomprehending gaze.
The postmaster came to his relief.

"Let me show you," he suggested, taking pity on his customer's wrinkled
brow and squinting helplessness. "I've had some experience in this
folderol. I took my Airedale over to the Ridgewood show last spring and
got a third with him. I'm going to take him up to Craigswold on Labor
Day, too. What kind of dog is yours?"

"The dandiest dawg that ever stood on four legs," answered Link, afire
with the zeal of ownership. "Why, that dawg of mine c'n--"

"What breed is he?" asked the postmaster, not interested in the dawning
rhapsody.

"Oh--breed?" repeated Link. "Why, I don't rightly know. Some kind of a
bird dawg, I guess. Yes. A bird dawg. But he's sure the grandest--"

"Is he the dog you had down here, one day last month?" asked the
postmaster, with a glea