ose deep-set dark eyes staring
up at him through the murk, with that same fearless and yet piteous
look in their depths. It was a look that the brief sputter of
match-light had photographed on Link's brain.

"I--I ain't got the heart to swat you while you keep lookin' that way
at me," he muttered half-aloud, as if to a human companion. "Jes' you
turn your head the other way, pup! It'll be over quick, an' easy."

By the faint light Link could see the dog had not obeyed the order to
turn his head. But at the man's tone of compassion the great plumy
tail began to thump the ground in feeble response.

"H'm!" grunted Link, letting the stone drop to the road, "got nerve,
too, ain't you, friend? 'Tain't every cuss that can wag his tail when
his leg's bust."

Kneeling down again he examined the broken foreleg more carefully.
Gentle as was his touch, yet Link knew it must cause infinite torture.
But the dog did not flinch. He seemed to understand that Ferris meant
kindly, for he moved his magnificent head far enough to lick the man's
hand softly and in gratitude.

The caress had an odd effect on the loveless Ferris. It was the first
voluntary mark of affection he had encountered for longer than he liked
to remember. 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. After which he picked up the swathed
invalid and bore him home.

During the mile trudge the colli