if by magic from his brooding eyes. Into them in its place leaped
a light of keen solicitude. He pressed closer to the swayingly
kneeling man, and with upthrust muzzle sought to kiss the
blubbering face.

The whisky reek was as strong as ever. But something in Chum's
soul was stronger. He seemed to know that the maudlin Unknown had
vanished, and that his dear master was back again--his dear
master who was in grievous trouble and who must be comforted.

Wherefore, the sickening liquor fumes no longer held him aloof
from Link. Just as the icy lake had not deterred him from
springing into the water after his drowning god, although, like
most collies, Chum hated to swim.

Link, through his own nervous collapse, recognized the instant
change in Chum's demeanor, and read it aright. It strengthened
the old bond between himself and the dog. It somehow gave him a
less scornful opinion of himself.

Presently he got to his feet, and with the collie at his side
went back to the table, where stood the threeparts-empty flask.
His face working, Link opened the window and poured what was left
of the whisky out on the ground. There was nothing dramatic about
his action. Rather it was tinged by very visible regret. Turning
back to Chum, he said sheepishly:

"There it goes. An' I ain't sayin' I'm tickled at wastin' such
good stuff. But--somehow I guess we've come to a showdown, Chum;
you an' me. If I stick to booze, I'm li'ble to see you looking at