his master's sudden immersion in the lake, he quitted the fray.
At top speed the dog cleared the bank and jumped down into the
water in pursuit of Ferris.

It evidently dawned on both men at once that there had been a
good deal of noise, for what was to have been a silent and
decorous holdup. Also that a raging collie is not a pleasant foe.
The racket might well draw interference from outside. The dog was
overhard to kill, and his bites were murderous. The game had
ceased to be worth the candle. By common impulse the pair took to
their heels.

Link Ferris, head down in the cold water, was strangling in his
maudlin efforts to right himself. He dug both hands into the
lake-bottom mud and strove to gain the surface. But the effort
was too much for him. A second frantic heave had better results.
And vaguely he knew why.

For Chum had managed to get a firm hold on the shoulder of his
master's coat--twelve inches under water--and had braced himself
with all his wiry strength for a tug which should lift Ferris to
the surface.

This added leverage barely made Link's own struggle a success.
The half-drowned man regained his footing. Floundering waist-deep
in water, he clambered up the steeply shelving bank to shore.
There at the road's edge he lay, gasping and sputtering and
fighting for breath.

Chum had been pulled under and out of his depth by Link's