The Dogs of Boytown

"What's the matter with you, Mr. Humane Society?" he asked.

"I'll show you, if you don't leave that dog alone," said Jimmie.

For answer, Dick gave the string a jerk. It was tied tightly around the dog's neck, and it hurt.

"Whose dog is this, I'd like to know," said Dick in a taunting tone.

Jimmie wasted no more breath in words. He snatched the string out of Dick's hand and faced him defiantly. Dick, now angry in his turn, made a lunge for the string. Mr. Fellowes couldn't see who struck the first blow, but in a moment the two boys were fighting desperately, Jimmie making up in fire and determination for what he lacked in size and strength.

Mr. Fellowes felt that he was called upon to interfere. It would hardly do to let a fight like this go on right in front of his shop, on the sidewalk of Main Street. Besides, other people were hurrying up and it might end in serious trouble.

Just then Dick managed to break free long enough to give the poor dog a vicious and entirely uncalled-for kick, as though he were in this way scoring an advantage over his opponent. The little terrier rolled over and over on the sidewalk, yelping in pain and terror. Then he found his footing and dashed blindly into Mr. Fellowes's legs.

The shopkeeper stooped and picked up the frightened little stray and took him into the store, where he did his best to soothe and comfort him, and it was wonderful how promptly the little chap responded and licked the kind man's hand. It may have been the first time he had ever tasted the milk of human kindness, but instinctively he understood and looked up confidently into this stranger's eyes with an expression of gratitude.

Meanwhile, a little knot of men and boys had gathered out in front of the shop. It so happened that they were persons who would rather witness a fight than stop it, or it may have been that there were some of them who hoped that for once Dick Wheaton would get his deserts. At any rate, it was a real fight, with no quarter, and it would have been a cold-blooded person indeed who could not admire the pluck of Jimmie Rogers. His nose was bleeding and his breath came in sobbing gasps, but he kept at it with unabated fury. Three times Dick Wheaton threw him, and three times he jumped to his feet and went for Dick.

The fighting of boys is no more to be encouraged than the fighting of dogs, but there seem to be times in the affairs of boys as well as of men when nothing but fighting will serve. The only way to cure a bully is to thrash him, and if anyone ever had a justifiable motive for fighting it was Jimmie Rogers.

At length Dick's blows appeared to be growing weaker. Jimmie, unable often to reach his face, had been pummelling him consistently on the vulnerable spot at the lower end of the breastbone, regardless of the punishment he himself received, and these tactics were beginning to tell on Dick's wind. His lips were parted, his eyes staring, and his face took on a strange mottled look. He began to strike out weakly and to concern himself chiefly with parrying Jimmie's troublesome blows and protecting his stomach.

With lowered guard, Dick staggered uncertainly backward, and Jimmie, rushing in, dealt him a smashing blow on the mouth that sent him reeling. Tripping over the door stone of Mr. Fellowes's store, he fell heavily, and lay there, with his arm crooked over his face, awaiting he knew not what final coup de grace in an attitude of abject surrender.

Men rushed in now, but Jimmie was satisfied. He shook off their hands and walked, somewhat unsteadily, into the store, and Mr. Fellowes closed the door behind him. Someone picked Dick up.

"Well, I guess you've had enough," said this unsympathetic person.

Dick Wheaton slunk off home without replying.

Mr. Fellowes did not refer to the fight. He did not think it proper to praise Jimmie, for he did not believe in boys fighting, but he could not resist a feeling of proud satisfaction.

"Want to see the dog?" he asked.

"Yes," said Jimmie in a tremulous voice. He was almost crying with weariness and he was doing his best to wipe the blood off his face and brush the dust off his clothes.

"Let me help you," said Mr. Fellowes, kindly.

While he was bathing Jimmie's face, the boy felt a pair of little paws reaching up on his leg, and a cold little nose thrust into his hand. He stooped down and patted the little head. The tail came out from between the dog's legs and wagged joyfully. Impulsively Jimmie caught him up and hugged him close. It seemed a long time to Jimmie Rogers since he had felt the moist caress of a loving tongue, and the thing went straight to his lonely heart.

During all the fighting he had steadfastly held back the tears of pain or anger, but now, weakened as he was by his exertions and the after effects of excitement, he burst into tears, burying his face in the little dog's warm, soft coat.

"Oh, little dog, little dog, you're going to be mine!" he cried.

Mr. Fellowes said not a word. While caring for the dog during the fight, he had been thinking what a fine thing it would be to keep him, to fill the place so long left vacant by the death of his Bounce. But now, as he watched Jimmie, he made the sacrifice. This should be Jimmie's dog. The boy had fairly won him. Mr. Fellowes understood how he felt; he, too, had lost a dog. So he merely stroked the dog's head and said, "What shall you call him?"

"Tatters," said Jimmie, and still carrying the dog tenderly in his arms, he started out of the shop. At the door he turned back, with the flash in his eye again. "And I'd like to see anybody try to take him away from me," he said.

"I guess nobody will," said Mr. Fellowes, smiling, and Jimmie bore his burden proudly home.

It was wonderful what a change a few days of kindness and good feeding wrought in Tatters. He never became the favorite that Rags had been, but he was a good dog, not without excellences and wisdom of his own, and Jimmie loved him. And the change that came over Jimmie was hardly less marked. With another dog for his own he was himself again, and everyone rejoiced with him. On Christmas Day Mr. Fellowes saw to it that the dogs' Santa Claus presented Tatters with a fine new collar.

CHAPTER XV

ROMULUS AT THE TRIALS

Mr. Hartshorn found, upon investigation, that the nearest field trials were those at Bedlow, where the Field Trial Club of Eastern Connecticut held its annual meet in April. It was not usually a large affair nor prominent among the field trials of the country, but Mr. Hartshorn thought it would be just about the right place for Romulus to make his first appearance as a contestant for field-trial honors. Though not a large affair, it was by no means insignificant, for there were some good dogs in that part of the country and one or two kennels from which had sprung dogs that had won a national reputation. Romulus was pretty sure to have opponents worthy of him.

April 15th and 16th were the days set for the event. Mr. Hartshorn communicated with the secretary of the club and made the necessary arrangements. Ernest Whipple filled out the entry blanks and they were properly filed. Unfortunately, Romulus was just a few months too old now to be entered in the Derby, but Ernest was not displeased by the necessity of seeking bigger game, and Romulus was entered in the All-Age or Subscription stake. A purse of $50 was offered for the winner and $30 for the runner-up.

April 14th dawned mild and bright, and about noon Sam Bumpus appeared with Romulus, whom he pronounced to be at the top of his form after a bit of light finishing off the day before. Sam was to go along to handle the dog. He had not had much experience at field trials, but Mr. Hartshorn had given him full instructions, and if anybody could get winning action out of Romulus it was Sam. Mr. and Mrs. Whipple had agreed to let Ernest and Jack go in care of Mr. and Mrs. Hartshorn, and both boys were full of excitement of the prospect. Mr. Whipple came out to ask Sam a few questions and I am inclined to think that even Mrs. Whipple shared a little of the excitement. Sam, as usual, refused to come into the house, saying that he preferred to eat his sandwiches in Rome, but he was glad to accept a cup of hot coffee and some cake which Delia took out to him.

Soon after dinner Mr. and Mrs. Hartshorn appeared in their big car and the boys hurried out to join them. They sat together on the front seat, while Sam, Ernest, Jack, and Romulus were bundled into the back seat, with the suitcases and Sam's gun. It was a tight squeeze, but it was a jolly party that set forth, waving good-by to Mr. and Mrs. Whipple, Delia, and the disconsolate Remus.

"It does seem too bad to have to leave poor Remus, doesn't it?" said Mrs. Hartshorn.

"That's all right," said Jack. "His day's coming. You'll see."

As for Romulus, he was wildly excited by this unusual experience, and treated the residents of Boytown to a continuous barking, in which Tatters and Mr. O'Brien and one or two of the other dogs joined, running beside the car until it was well out of town. Then Sam managed to quiet Romulus.

They arrived at Bedlow about dinner time, and Sam at once disappeared with Romulus, saying that he wanted to see that he had a good dinner and a place to sleep. The others went up to their rooms and washed up. Sam did not reappear, and the boys began to be a bit anxious.

"Don't worry," said Mr. Hartshorn. "He's a queer duck, Sam is. But I fancy he would be uncomfortable if he stayed with us, and we might as well let him have his own way. I'll venture to say we won't see him again till morning, but we can be sure of one thing: Romulus will be well looked after."

Mr. and Mrs. Hartshorn and the boys had their supper in the dining-room of the hotel, and all about them they heard dog talk. After supper they all went to a movie on Mr. Hartshorn's invitation, for he said that if they didn't get their minds off the trials for a little while they would not sleep that night.

It was, in fact, some little time before Ernest and Jack could get to sleep in their strange surroundings, but at length sleep came, and the first thing they knew Mr. Hartshorn was knocking on their door and bidding them get up. They dressed quickly and hurried down to breakfast, where they found even more people than there were the night before. Outside there were many automobiles and some horses, and here and there a dog was to be seen, blanketed and receiving unusual attention.

"I don't know where Sam slept last night," said Mr. Hartshorn. "It may have been in the stable for all I know. I didn't ask him. But he's all right, and so is Romulus. Sam saw to it that the dog got a good rest, and he was up bright and early this morning, taking Romulus out for a short walk to limber him up."

After breakfast they all piled into the car and started for the fields a few miles outside of town where the trials were to be held. The sky was overcast, but Mr. Hartshorn said he didn't think it would rain. There was little wind, and Sam pronounced it ideal weather for the contest.

"I hope it won't rain," said he, "because a wet coat bothers a setter and gives the pointers the advantage."

There were a number of cars on the road before and behind them, and now and then a man galloped past on horseback.

"Looks like a pretty good gallery," said Mr. Hartshorn.

When they arrived at the grounds, Mr. Hartshorn told the boys they had better remain in the car with his wife, while he and Sam consulted with the officials. After awhile he returned and announced that Romulus had been paired with another setter named Dolly Grey.

"I can't find out much about her," said he. "At least, she's not one of the famous ones, so it oughtn't to be too hard for Romulus. The Derby will be run off first, so Romulus won't be called on until afternoon. Sam has taken him off into the woods to keep him quiet."

In spite of the fact that Romulus did not figure in the Derby, it proved to be an absorbing and exciting event to the Whipple boys. Two by two the young dogs were called out and sent off in whirlwind races after the cleverly hiding birds. Sometimes no birds were discovered, and then it became merely a contest of speed and form in ranging until the judges changed to fresh ground. Every now and then, however, one of the dogs would catch the tell-tale scent, whirl about to some clump of grass or thicket, and come to a rigid point, his less successful opponent trailing him and backing him up. Behind them followed the judges, handlers, and gallery, some in automobiles, some in traps, some on horseback, and some afoot.

It turned out to be a fine day after all, and the dogs, eager and swift, made a pretty sight among the old pastures and stubble fields. For the most part they were kept away from the woods where it would be difficult to judge of their performances.

A halt was called at noon to eat lunch and rest the dogs. Already the constant shifting of ground had carried them far from Bedlow and the men who were afoot were tired. The dogs were wrapped in blankets and were kept as quiet as possible, most of them being in wagons. Mrs. Hartshorn got out the luncheon kit and the boys found that they were famously hungry. Sam appeared during the luncheon hour, to find out how things were going, and Mrs. Hartshorn persuaded him to eat something with the rest. Romulus, he said, seemed to be in good shape, and on no account must anybody give him anything to eat.

About 1:30 the judges called for the final contest in the Derby. A small lemon-and-white female setter named Dorothea was pitted against a somewhat overgrown blue belton of the same species. At first it seemed as though the advantage lay with the bigger, stronger dog, whose name was King Arthur. He kept well in the lead in the ranging, but the wise ones noted little Dorothea's superb form and said nothing. Little by little she crept up on King Arthur, and at length she swerved sharply to one side and pointed at a clump of alder bushes. King Arthur had missed the scent entirely. The birds were flushed and the dogs shot over, for that is the custom. Then the judges, after a conference, declared the Derby closed and Dorothea the winner. The party from Boytown saw a young woman rush out from among the automobiles and throw her arms around the little setter.