explain the thing. Nor did Link need it explained. It was enough
for him that he knew.

He knew, as by revelation, that his adoring dog now shunned him
because Link was drunk.

From the first, Chum's look of utter worship and his eagerly
happy obedience had been a joy to Link. The subtly complete
change in his worshiper's demeanor jarred sharply on the man's
raw nerves. He felt vaguely unclean--shamed.

The contempt of such of his pious human neighbors as had passed
him in the road during his sprees had affected Link not at all.
Nor now could he understand the queer feeling of humiliation that
swept over him at sight of the horrified repugnance in the eyes
of this mere brute beast. It roused him to a gust of hot
vexation.

"Shamed of me, are you?" he grunted fiercely. "A dirty
four-legged critter's 'shamed of a he-man, hey? Well, we'll lick
that out of you, dam' soon!"

Lurching to his feet, he snatched up a broom handle. He waved it
menacingly over the dog. Chum gave back not an inch. Under the
threat of a beating he stood his ground, his brave eyes
steadfast, and, lurking in their mystic depths, that same glint
of sorrowful wonder and disgust.

Up whirled the broomstick. But when it fell it did not smite
athwart the shoul ders of the sorrowing dog. Instead, it