aggressively a fact than making an inquiry.

"Yep," said Link, cross at this annoying break-in upon his trance
of happiness. "What d'j' want?" he added.

"Please step back to the clubhouse a minute with me," returned
the stranger, civilly enough, but with the same bossy firmness in
his tone that had jarred Ferris in his touch. "One or two people
want to speak to you. Bring along your dog."

Link glowered. He fancied he knew what was in store. Some of the
ultra select had gathered in the holy interior of the clubhouse
and wanted a private view of Chum, unsullied by the noisy
presence of the crowd outside. They would talk patronizingly to
Link, and perhaps even try to coax him into selling Chum. The
thought decided Ferris.

"I'm goin' home!" he said roughly.

"You're coming with me," contradicted the man in that same quiet
voice, but slipping his muscular arm into Link's.

With his other hand he shifted the lapel of his coat, displaying
a police badge on its reverse. Still avoiding any outward
appearance of force, he turned about, with his arm locked in
Ferris's and started toward the clubhouse.

"Here!" expostulated poor Link, with all a true mountaineer's
horror of the police. "What's all this? I ain't broke no law!
I--"