The Dogs of Boytown

And that is really the end of the story, though by no means the end of Romulus and Remus. They were destined to live to a ripe old age, much honored in Boytown, and to win many triumphs on field and bench. I need not tell you how happy Jack Whipple was to have his beloved dog restored to health and strength again. The rest of the family were hardly less so, and all Boytown rejoiced. I will only tell what a few of the people said and did, because Remus, you will agree, deserved all the honors and all the love that could be heaped upon him.

The first day that Jack was allowed to take Remus out into the sunshine for a little airing, there was one who watched them from the kitchen window. It was Irish Delia, who had objected so strenuously when the puppies had first been brought into her kitchen. When Jack, smiling happily, brought the dog in again, and Remus, whose legs were still a bit unsteady, walked over to his dish for a drink of water, Delia could restrain herself no longer. She flopped down on her knees beside him, and putting her arms about him, sobbed unrestrainedly into his soft coat.

"Ach, Remus, dear," she cried, "ye niver knew it, but I loved ye like me own brother."

And what did Tom Poultice say after the danger was over? He placed a kindly hand on Jack's shoulder and said, "I read a book once called 'The Mill on the Floss,' and there was a chap in it named Bob Jakin – just a hordinary chap like me. One day 'e says to a lady, 'e says, 'Hev a dog, Miss. They're better friends nor any Christian.' I've always thought 'e was right, Jacky, and I think so now more than ever."

Mr. Hartshorn didn't say much. He was not the demonstrative kind, but everyone knew what he thought. One day he told the boys that he had just received a letter from a cousin of his in the West who was a sheep man.

"He hates dogs," said Mr. Hartshorn, "worse than coyotes. He always makes fun of my sentimentality, as he calls it, and can't say too much against an animal that can furnish neither eggs, milk, wool, nor meat. He calls the dog a useless creature. I sat down and wrote him what Remus did on Hulse's Pond, and asked him if he had ever heard of a sheep that had saved a human life. I guess that will hold him for awhile."

Sam Bumpus didn't say much, either. He just stroked Remus's head and patted his flank, and then remarked, "I've sometimes thought life was a pretty tough proposition, but I reckon so long as there's boys an' dogs in the world, we can manage to stagger along an' bear up under it."

What other people said didn't matter so much as what they did. Mr. Morton quietly started a little affair of his own, and after he had made numerous calls on business acquaintances of his, a little ceremony took place in the Whipple yard, just outside of Rome. A committee called, consisting of Mr. Morton, Mr. Pierson, and Mr. Fellowes, and after a short speech was made by the banker, a bronze medal was presented to Remus.

"It isn't to be hidden away in a drawer somewhere," explained Mr. Morton. "He's to wear it on his collar, and if he loses it, we'll get him another one."

One side of the medal bore the words, "Presented to Remus by the citizens of Boytown." On the other side was a setter's head and the words, "For heroism in saving human life."

April came again to Boytown, and with it the bluebirds and robins, the pussy willows and red maple blossoms, and the green buds of the dogwoods that watched over the resting-place of Rags on the hill. With it, too, came strength to the graceful limbs of Remus. There were warm, sunny days, when it was good for dogs and boys to be out of doors, and there were crisp, cool evenings, when a crackling fire on the hearth was pleasant.

Let us bid farewell to our friends as they sit before their open fires, Sam Bumpus in his lonely shack, but not unhappy any more, Mr. and Mrs. Hartshorn side by side in the big house at Willowdale, and the Whipples in their pleasant sitting-room on Washburn Street. At one side of the table sits Mrs. Whipple, sewing, with a look of contentment on her face, mingled with pride as she watches the two fine young fellows who are her sons. At the other side of the table Mr. Whipple is reading aloud from that wonderful story, "Greyfriars Bobby." Remus lies comfortably stretched out on one side of the hearth and Romulus on the other, for they are no longer banished to Rome. The house is none too good for them. And about each happy dog's neck are entwined a loving master's arms.

THE END