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