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Updated: May 13, 2025
"More than likely Link Merwell got them to do it," answered Roger. "It would be of a piece with his meanness." "I believe they were brought over by that Hank Snogger," said the shipowner's son. "Yes, but I think Snogger is in some way under Link's thumb," put in Dave. "Anyway, the two seem to have a good deal in common." "Well, it was a mean piece of business," said Belle.
When he reached the narrowest points, which had so interested him, he got out of the car and walked from place to place. Once with a little jump he cleared the wash. Then Madeline noted that the farther rim was somewhat lower. In a flash she divined Link's intention. He was hunting a place to jump the car over the crack in the ground.
The Ferris farm, since Link's birth, had been perhaps the only home in all that wild region which did not boast a dog of some kind. Link's father had had an inborn hatred of dogs. He would not allow one on the place. His overt excuse was that they killed sheep and worried cattle, and that he could not afford to risk the well-being of his scanty hoard of stock.
The senator's son awoke and heard what was said. Then, as Dave took away his hand, he whispered: "Where is he? Who is it?" "There he is," and Dave pointed with his hand. "I don't know who it is, but I guess it is one of Link's crowd."
"What would your father think if he saw you act so rudely?" "Dad wouldn't care a dang." Instantly conscious of her mistake, she hastened to recover. "Well, Lincoln, what do you think I think?" Link's Yankee assurance sank abashed before this direct personal appeal. He hung his head in blushing silence. "Do you know, Lincoln, you might come to be a right clever gentleman if you tried hard."
Atop of the bookcase in Captain Link's study the bookcase, by the way, contains Burton's Thousand and One Nights, the Discourses of Epictetus, and President Eliot's tabloid classics is the skull in question, surmounted by a Moro fez. Across the front of the fez is printed this significant legend: THIS IS JOHN HENRY JOHN HENRY DISOBEYED CAPTAIN LINK Sic Transit Gloria Mundi
"Sixty-five," read the clerk for Link's benefit. "That's down at the extreme right. Almost the last bench to the right." Into the hallowed precinct Link piloted the much-interested Chum. There he paused for a dazzled instant.
The dog was young probably not more 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.
A mistake on Link's part, a slip of a wheel, a bursting of a tire at a critical moment, an instant of the bad luck which might happen a hundred times on a less perilous ride any one of these might spell disaster for the car, perhaps death to the occupants. Again and again Link used the planks to cross washes in sand. Sometimes the wheels ran all the length of the planks, sometimes slipped off.
He stirred up the huge, hairy body lying in the straw in the Missing Link's cage. "If you come inside the creature may attack you, but you are welcome to do so." Mrs. Spink, after looking closer at the hideous head the Professor lifted out of the straw, and brought close to her own at the back bars, decided not to enter the cage.
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