The Dogs of Boytown

"Oh, please tell us about those," pleaded Ernest.

Mr. Hartshorn laughed. "You're bound to know it all, aren't you?" said he. "There are a number of European, Asiatic, and Australasian breeds, some of which are very interesting, but you will probably never see any of them and I haven't a list of them with me. When we get back to Boytown, if there are any of you boys that would like to look up these uncommon breeds, just to make your dog knowledge complete, I shall be very glad to lend you a book which contains them all. For instance, there's the German boxer which has sometimes been shown in this country, and the Pyrenean sheepdog whose blood is to be found in several of our large breeds, including the St. Bernard and the Irish wolfhound. There are other European sheepdogs and hunting dogs, Asiatic greyhounds, and some queer hairless freaks. When you've looked those all up you'll know more about dogs than most naturalists do."

"Then if the breeds are all used up, I suppose the anecdotes have all been used up, too," said Jack.

Mr. Hartshorn looked at his watch. "Well, no, not quite all used up," said he. "I have thought of two or three more, and I guess we've got time for one of them to-night. It is about a tradesman of the Rue St. Denis in Paris, a man named Dumont. He had a very smart dog, but I don't know what kind of dog it was. Perhaps a terrier or a poodle. This dog was great at finding hidden articles. One day Dumont was walking with a friend in the Boulevard St. Antoine and was bragging about his dog. The friend would not believe his statements, so they laid a wager, the master claiming that the dog could find and bring home a six-livre piece hidden anywhere in the dust of the road.

"So the piece of money was hidden in the dust when the dog was not looking, and they went on a mile farther. Then the dog, whose name was Caniche, was told to go back and get the coin, and he promptly started. The friend wished to wait and see how it would come out, but Dumont said, 'No, we will proceed. Caniche will bring the money home.' They accordingly went to Dumont's home and waited, but no dog appeared. The friend asserted that the dog had failed and claimed the wager, but Dumont only said, 'Be patient, mon ami; something unexpected has happened to delay him, but he will come.'

"Something unexpected had indeed happened. A traveler from Vincennes came driving along in a chaise soon after Dumont and his friend had passed that way, and his horse accidentally kicked the coin out of the dust. The traveler, seeing it glisten, got out and picked it up, and then drove on to his inn.

"When Caniche came up the money was, of course, not there, but he picked up the traveler's scent and followed his chaise to the inn. Arriving there and finding his man, Caniche proceeded to make friends with him. The traveler, flattered by this attention, and being fond of dogs, said he would like to adopt Caniche, and took him to his room. The dog settled down and appeared to be quite content.

"When bedtime came and the man began to undress, Caniche arose and barked at the door. The man, thinking this was quite natural, opened the door to let him out. Suddenly Caniche turned, seized the man's breeches, which he had just taken off, and bolted out with them. There was a purse full of gold pieces in the breeches, and the traveler dashed after the dog in his nightcap and sans culottes, as the French say. Caniche made for home with the angry man after him.

"Arriving at Dumont's house, Caniche gained admittance and deposited the breeches at his master's feet. Just then the owner of the breeches burst in, loudly demanding his property and accusing Dumont of having taught his dog to steal.

"'Softly, softly,' said Dumont. 'Caniche is no thief, and he would not have done this without a reason. You have a coin in these breeches that is not yours.'

"At first the stranger denied this, and then he remembered the coin he had picked up in the Boulevard St. Antoine. Explanations followed, the breeches and gold were restored to the traveler and the six-livre piece was handed to Caniche, who returned it to his master with the air of one who had fulfilled his duty. Dumont's friend paid his wager and Dumont opened a bottle of wine, and they all drank to the health of the cleverest dog in France.

"Whether that is a true story or not you must judge for yourselves. I have told it as it was told to me, and I prefer not to vouch for it."

Laughing over this story, and thanking Mr. Hartshorn for telling it to them, the boys trooped off to bed.

So far as Ernest and Jack Whipple were concerned, all the interest of the second day of the Massatucket Dog Show centered about the judging of the English setters. They had been studying the entry carefully, and though there were some champions entered in the open and limit classes, and though Mr. Hartshorn pointed out to them the superior qualities of several of these dogs from the fancier's point of view, it seemed to the boys that Romulus and Remus were as good as any dogs there.

"Don't set your hopes too high," cautioned Mr. Hartshorn. "They will be pitted against some good dogs, and I don't want to see you too greatly disappointed. One has to learn to lose in the dog-show game more often than one wins."

"Anyway," said Ernest, "I haven't seen anything in the novice class that can beat them."

At last the hour arrived for the judging of the setters. The puppy class was disposed of first, and then the novices. Ernest and Jack led their own dogs into the ring, with numbers pinned to their coat-sleeves. The two dogs behaved beautifully, holding up their heads and standing at attention, as their masters had patiently taught them to do. They were both in good condition, their eyes bright and their coats soft and glossy. It was quite evident to the spectators about the ring that the other dogs in the novice class were not to be compared with them. Ernest and Jack were quite unconscious of the fact that they were being observed as much as the dogs and that there were some people present who admired their bright eyes as much as those of Romulus and Remus. But it was the judge of this class that held their fixed attention.

He was a brusque, dour-looking man, without a smile for anybody, but he had a reputation for strict impartiality and for a true judgment of dog-flesh. It did not take him long to reach his decision. With no word of congratulation he handed Jack a blue ribbon and Ernest a red one, and ushered them out of the ring.

"The Remus dog has the best head and most shapely body," was all that he said.

But the spectators clapped and showered congratulations upon the boys, and they were very happy.

"I knew it, I knew it!" cried Jack in an ecstasy of triumph. "Nose doesn't count in the show ring, and Remus is, in every other way, the best dog in the world. I told you he'd have his day. Good old Remus!"

And right before all those people he leaned down and hugged his dog and kissed him on the silky ear.

But that was only the beginning. Remus also took first in the open class, which was more than Mr. Hartshorn had hoped for, and Romulus took third. And when it came to the final contest of the winners, Remus won reserve to Ch. The Marquis, a dog that had won his spurs in the biggest shows in the country. He was the only dog in this bunch that could beat Remus, and there were those who affirmed that in another year Remus would defeat him.

Ernest showed himself to be a good sport and was glad that Remus had won. Jack communicated his high spirits to the other boys, and by the time the afternoon was over they were in a hilarious mood and eager to bring their trophies back to Boytown. They forgot their weariness, and as the spectators began to leave the grounds, and it was proper to release the dogs, they started off pell-mell, across the central oval of the race track, boys and dogs together, shouting and barking in a gladsome chorus. It was a goodly sight for some of the grown-ups to see, and they paused to watch the frolic.

"I'm so glad Remus won," said Mrs. Hartshorn, smiling upon them all.

"Yes," responded her husband, "Jacky deserved it. He has stood by his dog through thick and thin."

As the boys and dogs came romping back, Mrs. Hartshorn observed, "Youth is a wonderful thing."

"Sometimes," said her husband, "I think it is a greater thing than wisdom."

Perhaps a vision of her own youth came back to her, for she leaned against her husband's arm and softly quoted:

"When all the world is young, lad,
And all the fields are green,
And every goose a swan, lad,
And every lass a queen;
Then hey, for boot and horse, lad!
Around the world away!
Young blood must have its course, lad,
And every dog his day."

CHAPTER XVIII

ON HULSE'S POND

A week or so after the Massatucket Show, when Ernest Whipple's kennel paper arrived, he and Jack scrutinized it eagerly for the account of the show. The man who reported it had a great deal to say, in more or less technical terms, about a good many of the dogs. He seemed to pride himself on his ability to pick future winners and he was rather free with his predictions. Romulus he mentioned favorably in passing, referring to his enviable field-trial record. But to Remus he devoted an entire paragraph.

"This dog," he wrote, "owned by Master Jack Whipple, is a twin brother to the afore-mentioned Romulus. Barring a slight weakness in the loins and a look of wispiness about the stern, he was set down in good shape and easily defeated the other novices. He has the classic type of Laverack head, and this had much to do with his being placed reserve to Ch. The Marquis in the winners class. He is a young dog, and with proper treatment he should figure in the primary contests of next winter. We predict a bright future on the bench for this Remus."

Incidentally the boys were pleased to learn that Tippecanoe and Tyler Too had won the prize for the best brace of beagles in the show, besides some individual honors, and they rejoiced for their bright-faced little acquaintances of the baggage car.

The triumph of Remus was not short-lived. The residents of Boytown learned through the local papers what had happened, and began to look with a new interest upon these boys and their dogs as they passed along the streets. Romulus came to be pointed out to strangers as a coming field-trial champion, and Remus as a famous bench-show winner. Such dogs were something for the citizens of any town to be proud of. And there were not a few persons who gained thereby a new interest in dogs, to the lasting betterment of their characters.

As the autumn days came on, Ernest began to feel the call of the woods and fields, and begged to be allowed to have a gun and go hunting with Sam Bumpus. He was now a tall, good-looking lad of fifteen, and he felt himself quite old enough to become a hunter. Besides, what is the use of owning a fine bird dog if you don't hunt with him?

Mrs. Whipple strongly objected, for she was afraid of guns, and at last a compromise was reached. Ernest was to be allowed to go hunting with Sam provided he would not ask to own or use a gun until he was sixteen, and reluctantly he consented to this arrangement. Jack, who was still only twelve, had not yet caught the hunting fever, and since he owned a dog that could not hunt anyway, he was content to remain at home, while Ernest spent his Saturdays afield with Sam.

Sam Bumpus, during the past three years, had grown to be a less lonely man. Through the boys he had made friends in town, and people began to look upon him as less queer and to recognize his sterling virtues. And all that made him happier.

"It was a lucky day for me," he once said, "when I brought those puppies down in my pockets."

"It was a luckier day for us," responded Ernest with warmth.

Now, tramping together 'cross country with their dogs, they became even closer friends, and there was implanted in Ernest's character a certain honesty and a love of nature that never left him. And withal, it was great fun.

Then came another winter, and one day, during the Christmas vacation, Mr. Hartshorn invited the whole crowd of boys up to his house to enjoy an indoor campfire. Mrs. Hartshorn, as usual, spread her table with a wealth of good things to eat, and after the dinner they all gathered in the big living-room, where huge logs were blazing and crackling in the fireplace.

"I only wish," said Ernest Whipple, "that there were more breeds of dogs for you to tell us about, Mr. Hartshorn. I always enjoyed those talks so much."

"Do you think you know all about all the breeds now?" asked Mr. Hartshorn, with a smile.

"Well, no," confessed Ernest, "but I know something about them all, and I have one or two good books to refer to. I guess there's always more to be learned about everything."

"That is true," said their host, "and fortunately there are always good things being written about dogs by men who know them. I never let a chance go by to add to my own fund of dog lore."