His Dog | Page 8

the huge
dog that had caused their fright.
A wistful whine from Chum interrupted Link's volley of swearing. The
dog had noted his master's angry excitement and was seeking to offer
sympathy or help.
But the reminder of Chum's presence did not check Link's wrath at the
unconscious cause of the stampede. He loosed his hold on the collar,
resolving to take out his rage in an unmerciful beating should the dog
seek to chase the fleeing sheep. That would be at least an outlet for the
impotent wrath which Ferris sought to wreak on someone or
something.
"Go get 'em then, if you're so set on it!" he howled at the collie, waving
a windmill arm at the fugitives. "Only I'll whale your measly head off if
you do!"
The invitation and the gesture that went with it seemed to rouse some
long-dormant memory in the collie's soul. Like a flash he was off in
flying pursuit of the sheep. Ferris, in the crazy rage which possessed
him, hoped Chum might bite at least one of the senseless creatures that
were causing him such a waste of precious time and of grudged effort.
Wherefore he did not call back the fastrunning collie. It would be time
enough to whale the daylight out of him--yes, and to rescue his possible
victims from death--when the dog should have overhauled the woolly
pests. So, in dour fury, Link watched the pursuit and the flight.
Then, of a sudden, the black rage in Ferris's visage changed to
perplexity, and slowly from that to crass wonderment.
Six of the sheep had remained bunched in their runaway dash, while all
the rest had scattered singly. It was after this bleating sextet that Chum
was now racing.
Nor did he stop when he came up with them. Tearing past them he
wheeled almost in midair and slackened his pace, running transversely
ahead of them and breaking into a clamor of barks.
The six, seeing their foe menacing them from in front, came to a
jumbled and slithering halt, preparing to break their formation and to
scatter. But Chum would not have it so.
Still threatening them with his thunderous bark he made little dashes at
one or another of them that tried to break away; and he crowded back

the rest.
As a result, there was but one direction the dazed sheep could take--the
direction whence they had come. And, uncertainly, shamblingly, they
made their way back toward the fold.
Scarce had they been fairly started in their cowed progress when Chum
was off at a tangent, deserting his six charges and bearing down with
express train speed on a stray wether that had paused in his escape to
nibble at a line of early peas in the truck garden.
At sight of the approaching collie the sheep flung up its head and began
again to run. But the dog was in front of it, whichever way the
panic-stricken animal turned;--in every direction but one. And in that
direction fled the fugitive. Nor did it stop in its headlong flight until it
was alongside the six which Chum had first "turned".
Pausing only long enough to round up one or two sheep which were
breaking loose from the bunch Chum was off again in headlong chase
of still another and another and another stray.
Link Ferris, in blank incredulity, stood gaping at the picture before
him--staring at the tireless swiftness of his dog in turning back and
rounding up a scattered flock which Ferris himself could not have
bunched in twenty times the space of minutes. Chum, he noted, did not
touch one of the foolish beasts. His bark and his zigzag dashes served
the purpose, without the aid of teeth or of actual contact.
Presently, as the dumbfounded man gazed, the last stray was added to
the milling, bleating bunch, and Chum was serenely trotting to and fro,
driving back such of the sheep as sought to break loose from the huddle.
Terrified and trembling, but mastered, the flock cowered motionless.
The work was done.
As in a dream Link tumbled toward the prisoners. His mind functioning
subconsciously, he took up his interrupted task of driving them to
pasture. The moment he succeeded in getting them into motion they
broke again. And again, like a furry whirlwind, Chum was encircling
them; chasing the strays into place. He saw, without being told, the
course his master was taking, and he drove his charges accordingly.
Thus, in far less time and in better order than ever before, the flock
reached the rickety gateway of the stone-strewn sheep pasture and
scuttled jostlingly in through it.
Link shut the gate after them. Then, still in a daze, he turned on the

dog.
"Chum," he said confusedly, "it don't make sense to