than two years old. The teeth proved that. He wore a thin collie
collar with no inscription on its silver band.

Even to Link's inexperienced eye he was an animal of high
breeding and of glorious beauty. Link told himself he would
perhaps get as much as ten dollars for the return of so costly a
pet. And he wondered why the golden prospect did not seem more
alluring.

Three times in the night Link got up to give the collie fresh
water and to moisten and re-adjust the bandages. And, every time,
the sight of his rescuer would cause the dog's tail to thump a
joyous welcome and would fill the dark eyes with a loving
gratitude which went straight to Ferris's lonely heart.

In the morning the dog was prevailed upon to lap a saucer of warm
milk, and even to nibble at a crust of soaked bread. Link was
ashamed of his own keen and growing interest in his find. For the
first time he realized how bleakly lonesome had been his home
life, since the death of his father had left him solitary.


There was a mysteriously comforting companionship in the dog's
presence. Link found himself talking to him from time to time as
to a fellow human. And the words did not echo back in eerie
hollowness from the walls, as when he had sometimes sought to
ease his desolation by talking aloud to himself.

He was embarrassed by his general ignorance of dogs, and by his
ignorance of this particular dog's name. He sought to learn what