“Why, no! Of course not!” fumed Old Man Chatham. “He’d have no legal right to touch such a dog. They’d have a right to protect the beast from him. But that’s all beside the point. The point is—” “The point is,” intervened Link, calling Chum to him by a snap of the fingers—“the point is that I was bothered by this man’s threats to grab my dog and torture him. So I walked into town yesterday and paid my dollar license fee to the borough clerk and took out a license for Chum. I paid ten cents extra for a license tag and I fastened it on Chum’s collar, as the law directs. See?” He parted the heavy masses of ruff on the collie’s throat, bringing to view a narrow circular collar, whereon dangled a little brass triangle. At sight of the emblem Shunk’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t see that!” he stammered aghast. “You told me last week he wa’n’t licensed. How was I to know—” “The borough clerk read me the law,” replied Ferris. “The law commands that dog catchers search a dog’s collar for license tags before taking him in charge. Shunkie, I’m afraid your sweet hopes of beatin’ Chum to death must be folded up and laid away, like the pants of some dear dead friend. Something tells me, too, that the mayor and council will appoint a brand-new poundmaster when our complaint is laid before ’em and when they hear their champion dog catcher’s in the hoosgow on a charge of beatin’ a child. Something tells me, too, that you’ll find it c’nvenient to move somewheres else, when you get out, and give some other burg the honour of havin’ a Meanest Man in its ’mongst.” "If I’d ’a’ cotched him a day earlier," moaned Shunk in utter regret and to himself rather than to the others—“if I’d—” "You couldn’t, Shunkie!" replied Link blithely. “I saw to that! He didn’t stir off my land till I had time to come and get him licensed. If it hadn’t been for holdin’ back the judge, here, from wallopin’ you, I wouldn’t even of hurried to-day, when I found you had Chum. I was kind of hopin’ you might try it. That’s why I didn’t head Chum off when I guessed he’d started for town. I was waitin’ for you. That’s why I got the license.” From his pocket Link fished out a soiled half sheet of paper and tendered it to the bulging-eyed dog catcher. “Prop’ty of yours,” he explained. "You let it drop out’n your coat that day you nosed round my farm lookin’ for Chum. At the time I had an idea you was lookin’ for a dollar fee. When I read that note I saw you was after a hundred-dollar fee—the cash you was offered by Sim Hooper if you could impound Chum and then let Sim sneak him out of your yard and over to Pat’son, to a collie dealer there, before I c’d come to redeem him. "No wonder you was hoverin’ round my farm like a buzzard that smells garbage! I showed that note to Mayor Wipple yest’day. So there’s no need of you tearin’ it all up like that, Shunkie. I figgered I might make it more amoosin’ for you if I let you catch Chum before I sprung the note on you.