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HIS DOG
HIS DOG
By ALBERT PAYSON TERHUNE 1922
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HIS DOG
CHAPTER I。 The Derelict
Link Ferris was a fighter。 Not by nature； nor by choice； but to keep
alive。
His battleground covered an area of forty acresbroken； scrubby；
uncertain side…hill acres； at that。 In brief； a worked…out farm among the
mountain slopes of the North Jersey hinterland； six miles from the nearest
railroad。
The farm was Ferris's； by right of sole heritage from his father； a Civil…
War veteran； who had taken up the wilderness land in 1865 and who； for
thirty years thereafter； had wrought to make it pay。 At best the elder Ferris
had wrenched only a meager living from the light and rock…infested soil。
The first…growth timber on the west woodlot for some time had staved
off the need of a mortgage； its veteran oaks and hickories grimly giving up
their lives； in hundreds； to keep the wolf from the door of their owner。
When the last of the salable timber was gone Old Man Ferris tried his
hand at truck farming； and sold his wares from a wagon to the denizens of
Craigswold； the new colony of rich folk； four miles to northward。
But to raise such vegetables and fruits as would tempt the eyes and the
purses of Craigswold people it was necessary to have more than mere zeal
and industry。 Sour ground will not readily yield sweet abundance； be the
toiler ever so industrious。 Moreover； there was large and growing
competition； in the form of other huckster routes。
And presently the old veteran wearied of the eternal uphill struggle。
He mortgaged the farm； dying soon afterward。 And Link； his son； was left
to carry on the thankless task。
Link Ferris was as much a part of the Ferris farm as was the giant
bowlder in the south mowing。 He had been born in the paintless shack
which his father had built with his own rheumatic hands。 He had worked
for more than a quarter century； in and out of the hill fields and the
ramshackle barns。 From babyhood he had toiled there。 Scant had been the
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HIS DOG
chances for schooling； and more scant had been the opportunities for
outside influence。
Wherefore； Link had grown to a wirily weedy and slouching manhood；
almost as ignorant of the world beyond his mountain walls as were any of
his own 〃critters。〃 His life was bounded by fruitless labor； varied only by
such sleep and food as might fit him to labor the harder。
He ate and slept； that he might be able to work。 And he worked； that he
might be able to eat and sleep。 Beyond that； his life was as barren as a
rainy sea。
If he dreamed of other and wider things； the workaday grind speedily
set such dreams to rout。 When the gnawing of lonely unrest was too acute
for bovine enduranceand when he could spare the time or the moneyhe
was wont to go to the mile…off hamlet of Hampton and there get as nearly
drunk as his funds would permit。
It was his only surcease。 And as a rule； it was a poor one。 For seldom
did he have enough ready money to buy wholesale forgetfulness。 More
often he was able to purchase only enough hard cider or fuseloil whisky to
make him dull and vaguely miserable。
It was on his way home one Saturday night from such a rudimentary
debauch at Hampton that his Adventure had its small beginning。
For a half mile or so of Link's homeward pilgrimagebefore he turned
off into the grass…grown； rutted hill trail which led to his farmhis way led
along a spur of the state road which linked New York City with the
Ramapo hill country。
And here； as Link swung glumly along through the springtide dusk； his
ears were assailed by a sound that was something between a sigh and a
soba sound as of one who tries valiantly to stifle a whimper of sharp
pain。
Ferris halted； uncertain； at the road edge； and peered about him。 Again
he heard the sound。 And this time he located it in the long grass of the
wayside ditch。 The grass was stirring spasmodically； too； as with the half…
restrained writhings of something lying close to earth there。
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HIS DOG
Link struck a match。 Shielding the flame； he pushed the tangle of grass
to one side with his foot。
There； exposed in the narrow space thus cleared and by the narrower
radius of match flare； crouched a dog。
The brute was huddled in a crumpled heap； with one foreleg stuck
awkwardly out in front of him at an impossible angle。 His tawny mass of
coat was mired and oil streaked。 In his deep…set brown eyes burned the
fires of agony。
Yet； as he looked up at the man who bent above him； the dog's gaze
was neither fierce nor cringing。 It held rather such an expression as；
Dumas tells us； the wounded Athos turned to D'Artagnanthe aspect of
one in sore need of aid； and too proud to plead for it。
Link Ferris had never heard of Dumas； nor of the immortal musketeer。
None the less； he could read that look。 And it appealed to him； as no howl
of anguish could have appealed。 He knelt beside the suffering dog and fell
to examining his hurts。
The dog was a colliebeautiful of head； sweepingly graceful of line；
powerful and heavy coated。 The mud on his expanse of snowy chest frill
and the grease on his dark brown back were easy to account for； even to
Link Ferris's none…too…keen imagination。
Link； in his own occasional trudges along this bit of state road； had
often seen costly dogs in the tonneaus of passing cars。 He had seen several
of them scramble frantically to maintain their footing on the slippery seats
of such cars； when chauffeurs took the sharp curve； just ahead； at too high
speed。 He had even seen one Airedale flung bodily from a car's rear seat at
that curve； and out into the roadway； where a close…following motor had
run over and killed it。
This collie； doubtless； had had such a fall； and； unseen by the front
seat's occupants； had struck ground with terrific forcea force that had
sent him whirling through mud and grease into the ditch； with a broken
front leg。
How long the beast had lain there Link had no way of guessing。 But
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the dog was in mortal agony。 And the kindest thing to do was to put him
out of his pain。
Ferris groped around through the gloom until； in the ditch； his fingers
closed over a ten…pound stone。 One smashing blow on the head； with this
missile； would bring a swift and merciful end to the sufferer's troubles。
Poising the stone aloft； Link turned back to where the dog lay。
Standing over the victim； he balanced the rock and tensed his muscles for
the blow。 The match had long since gone out； but Link's dusk…accustomed
vision could readily discern the outlines of the collie。 And he made ready
to strike。
Thenperhaps it was the drink playing tricks with Ferris's mindit
seemed to him that he could still see those deep…set dark eyes staring up at
him through the murk； with that same fearless and yet piteous look in their
depths。 It was a look that the brief sputter of match…light had photographed
on Link's brain。
〃II ain't got the heart to swat you while you keep lookin' that way at
me；〃 he muttered half…aloud； as if to a human companion。 〃Jes' you turn
your head the other way； pup！ It'll be over quick； an' easy。〃
By the faint light Link could see the dog had not obeyed the order to
turn his head。 But at the man's tone of compassion the great plumy tail
began to thump the ground in feeble response。
〃H'm！〃 grunted Link； letting the stone drop to the road； 〃got nerve； too；
ain't you； friend？ 'Tain't every cuss that can wag his tail when his leg's
bust。〃
Kneeling down again he examined the broken fo