Then he stepped across the ring to where Ferris was edging his way toward the exit; and handed Link the remaining ribbon. It was dark blue, with gilt lettering.
Leighton did not so much as subject Chum to the handling and close inspection he had lavished on the three others. One expert glance had told the judge that the dark-sable collie, led by this loutish countryman, was better fitted to clean up prizes at Madison Square Garden than to appear in a society dog show in the North Jersey hinterland.
Leighton had viewed Chum, as a bored musician, listening to the piano-antics of defective children, might have regarded the playing of a disguised Paderewski. Wherefore, he had waved the dog to one side while he judged the lesser entrants, and then had given him the merited first-prize ribbon.
Link, in a daze of bliss, stalked back to the bench; with Chum capering along at his side. The queer sixth sense of a collie told Chum his god was deliriously happy, and that Chum himself had somehow had a share in making him so. Hence the dog's former gloomy pacing changed to a series of ecstatic little dance steps, and he kept thrusting his cold muzzle into the cup of Ferris's palm.
Again Bench 65 was surrounded by an admiring clump of spectators.
Chum and Link vied each other in their icy aloofness toward these admirers. But with a difference.
Chum was unaffectedly bothered by so much unwelcome attention from strangers. Ferris, on the other hand, reveled in the knowledge that his beloved pet was the center of more adulation than was any other dog in all the section.
Class after class went to be judged. Link was sorry he had not spent more money and entered Chum in every class. The initial victory had gone to his head. He had not known he could be so serenely happy. After a while, he started up at the attendant's droning announcement of, "Winners' Class, Male Scotch Collies! Numbers 62, 65, 68,70, 73!"Again Link and Chum set out for the ring. Link's glee had merged into an all-consuming nervousness, comparable only to a maiden hunter's "buck ague." Chum, once more sensing Ferris's state of mind, lost his own glad buoyancy and paced solemnly alongside, peering worriedly up into Link's face at every few steps.
All five entrants filed into the ring and began their parade.
Leighton, in view of the importance of this crowning event, did not single out any one dog, as before, to stand to one side; nor did he gate any. He gave owners and spectators their full due, by a thorough inspection of all five contestants. But as a result of his examination, he ended the suspense by handing Link Ferris a purple rosette, whereon was blazoned in gilt the legend, "Winners."A salvo of handclaps greeted the eminently just decision. And Chum left the ring, to find a score of gratulatory hands stretched forth to pat him. Quite a little crowd escorted him back to his bench.
A dozen people picked acquaintance with Link. They asked him all sorts of questions as to his dog. Link made monosyllabic and noncommittal replies to all of these--even when the great Col.
Cyrus Marden himself deigned to come over to the collie section and stare at Chum, accompanying his scrutiny with a volley or patronizing inquiries.
From the bystanders Link learned something of real interest--namely, that one of the "specials" was a big silver cup, to be awarded to "best collie of either sex"; and that after the females should have been, judged, the winning female and Chum must appear in the ring together to compete for this trophy.
Sure enough, in less than thirty minutes Chum was summoned to the ring. There, awaiting him, was a dainty and temperamental merle, of the Tazewell strain. Exquisite and high-bred as was this female competitor, Judge Leighton wasted little time on the examination before giving Ferris a tricolored ribbon, whose possession entitled him to one of the shimmering silver mugs in the near-by trophy case.
After receiving full assurance that the big cup should be his at the close of the show, Link returned to Chum's bench in ecstasy and sat down beside his tired dog, with one arm thrown lovingly round the collie's ruff. Chum nestled against his triumphant master, as Link fondled his bunch of ribbons and went over, mentally, every move of his triumphal morning.
The milling and changing groups of spectators in front of Bench 65 did not dwindle. Indeed, as the morning went on, they increased. People kept coming back to the bench and bringing others with them. Some of these people whispered together. Some merely stared and went away. Some asked Ferris carefully worded questions, to which the shyly happy mountaineer replied with sheepish grunts.
The long period of judging came at last to an end. And the "Best Dog in Show" special was called.
Into the ring Ferris escorted Chum, amid a multitude of fellow winners, representing one male or female of every breed exhibited. Leighton and another judge stood in the ring's center, and around them billowed the heterogeneous array. The two went at their Gargantuan task with an expert swiftness. Mercilessly, dog after dog was weeded out and gated. At last, Chum and two others were all remaining of the many which had thronged the ring. The spectators were banked, five deep and breathless, round the ropes.
The two judges went into brief executive session in one corner.
Then Leighton crossed to Link, for the fourth time that day, and gave him the gaudy rosette which proclaimed Chum "best dog in the show." A roar of applause went up. Link felt dizzy--and numb.
Then, with a gasp of rapture, he stooped and gathered the bored Chum in his long arms, in a bearlike, ecstatic hug.
"We done it, Chummie!" he chortled. "WE DONE IT!"Still in a daze, he followed the steward to the trophy case, where he received not only the shining silver cup, but a "sovereign purse," wherein were ensconced ten ten-dollar gold pieces.
