CHAPTER VII
SOME OTHER DOGS, INCLUDING RAGS
It was sympathy for Jack Whipple and interest in the sickness andrecovery of Remus that resulted in the formation of a sort offreemasonry of dog lovers among the boys of Boy town. It had alwaysbeen known that some of the boys had dogs, and there had been a gooddeal of fun with these dogs at different times in the past. Buthitherto the dogs had been, in a way, taken for granted, and had livedin a sort of background in the boy life of the town. Suddenly theycame to light as important members of the community, and each dog hadits boy champion.
While Romulus and Remus were sick, the Whipple boys often had toanswer inquiries as to their progress, but Ernest and Jack had been sowrapped up in their own worries that they did not realize thewidespread sympathy that had sprung up. They did not know that a dozenother boys each loved a dog much as they loved Romulus and Remus andcould understand what it must mean to watch at the bedside of aseriously sick puppy.
But when Romulus was well on the road to perfect health again andRemus was slowly convalescing, the other boy dog lovers of the townbegan to drop around, sometimes with offerings to be appreciated bydogs, just as neighbors bring in jellies and fruit when a person isrecovering from a long illness. Then Ernest and Jack began to realizehow many friends they had in Boytown and that they all had a preciouspossession in common.
Harry Barton came first, with Mike. His manner was subdued and he didnot brag. He stepped softly as one would in entering a sick room, andhe patted Remus's little head very gently and called him "poor littlemuttsie." Then came Theron Hammond, though he left his Boston terrierat home because Alert had never had distemper and might catch it. Heand the Whipple boys sat for a long time in the stable doorway andspeculated about the knowingness of dogs. Monty Hubbard came, too. Heleft his Irish terrier, Mr. O'Brien, at home because of said Mr.O'Brien's well-known proclivity to fight with anything in the shape ofa dog, though Monty was sure he wouldn't hurt two sick puppies. ButHerbie Pierson honored Rome by bringing his huge, brindled Great Dane,Hamlet, who regarded the setters with fatherly indulgence and thenwalked off in his stately manner and crouched like a noble statuebeside the front gate.
And last of all came Rags and Jimmie Rogers, of whom I will presentlytell you more.
Great Dane]
Boytown had always been a great place for dogs. Not only thearistocrats of dogdom, living comfortably in homes with loving mastersand mistresses, but all sorts of nondescript dogs, many of whom seemedto be masterless and homeless, though not invariably unhappy. In fact,there were many good citizens of Boytown who did not like dogs and whofelt that the canine population of the place was altogether toolarge.
There were restrictive laws that ought to have reduced this caninepopulation to such dogs as were properly owned and licensed, but thegovernment of Boytown was criticized as being a happy-go-lucky affaira good deal of the time, and it was only when complaints becamesufficiently numerous and serious that the town fathers took steps toenforce the laws and abolish what was conceded to be a publicnuisance. Then a dog catcher was hired, warnings were posted, and thestray dogs were gathered up and mysteriously disposed of. It wasrather a cruel and heart-rending business, if you stopped to think ofit, and it would not have been necessary if the authorities had beenmore uniformly strict in observing the statutes and ordinances, butthat was their way.
It was during one of the periods of laxity that a wire-haired terrierappeared from no one knew where. He was not an authenticrepresentative of any of the established breeds; it was quite evidentthat he had just happened somehow. But he was conspicuous among hismiscellaneous black and white and brown and brindled brethren byreason of his superior alertness and intelligence and hisnever-failing good humor and high spirits. His tramp life had in noway damaged his disposition; he seemed to have been born full of thejoy of life. He was about the size of one of Mr. Hartshorn's smallerAiredales and in the main he was not badly formed. But his tail, whichhad never been docked, hung at a rakish angle to one side and one earwas set higher than the other. His eyes were extraordinarily brightand his wiry coat was a grizzled black, always tousled and generallydirty.
The boys were not long in making this stranger's acquaintance. Indeed,he made the first advances, joining in their sport one day when theywere in swimming in the pond over by the brickyard, and mingling hisjoyous barks with the shrieks of laughter which his antics provoked.He would pick them up on their way to school, or anywhere, and makehimself generally companionable, and it was not long before theydiscovered him to be most precocious in the learning of tricks.
It was not in the nature of things that such a dog should remainforever masterless, but the periodical cleaning up of the dog catcherhad begun before anyone had had time to think of him as anything buteverybody's dog. It was Jimmie Rogers who saw him seized and thrustunceremoniously into the dog catcher's covered wagon, and it wasJimmie who set out alone to achieve his rescue. Jimmie's people livedon Sharon Street and were not well to do, but somehow Jimmie managedto scrape together the five dollars which he found must be paidbefore he could establish his claim to ownership.
After that, by common consent, he became Jimmie Rogers's dog. He hadalready won the name of Rags.
So Jimmie brought his beloved Rags to visit the invalids, and Romulusand Remus looked on with big-eyed amazement while Rags was made to situp, shake hands, roll over, chase his tail, play dead, and sing.
But there was one boy with a dog who did not come to visit the sick,and Ernest and Jack Whipple were not sorry. They did not like DickWheaton, and Dick, it was easy to believe, was not one to care whetheranother boy's dog died or not. He was a good deal of a bully atschool, and Jack feared and avoided him. As for the older boys, theyfound him generally unamiable and those of them who knew the love ofdogs were angry with Dick for the way he treated poor little Gyp.
Gyp was a smooth-coated fox terrier and a very good specimen of hisbreed. He was smart and gamey, but his spirit had nearly been brokenby his tyrannical master. Dick seemed unable to resist the temptationto bully everything smaller and weaker than himself, and when therewere no small boys or little girls within his reach he indulged hisproclivities by teasing his dog.
Gyp, who had never had any other master, did not think of resentingthis. He merely endured it as best he might. In fact, there was nomore obedient dog in Boytown. It was pitiful to see the way in whichhe would answer his master's lightest word, as though he livedconstantly in the hope of winning favor by his promptness.
Boys often like to tease animals, but they are seldom actually cruel,at least not knowingly so. And when a boy becomes possessed of a dogor a pony of his own, his attitude often undergoes a marked change.But no relenting took place in Dick Wheaton's nature, and the otherboys who had learned the lesson of kindness, recognizing his right todo as he chose with his own, could only look on with growingdisapproval and dislike.
But all the other dog-owning boys of the town found their friendshipsgrowing closer in the warmth of this common interest. During theconvalescence of Remus they made Rome a sort of lodge room for themeetings of a new association with an unwritten constitution and noby-laws. They talked much of dogs and it was not long before a numberof them were keenly desirous of visiting Willowdale and making theacquaintance of dog-wise Tom Poultice, the rich Mr. Hartshorn, and allthe Airedales and white bull terriers.
So Harry Barton made the arrangements and one Saturday in May anexpedition was formed to walk to Thornboro and visit Willowdale. Therewere seven boys in the company and three dogs--Mike, Alert, and Rags.Romulus and Remus were not yet strong enough to make such a trip andit was voted that these three could be counted upon to behavethemselves properly. There was a little doubt about Rags, but he was ageneral favorite and was always given the benefit of any doubt. At thelast moment Herbie Pierson and Hamlet joined the excursion.
To these active boys and their dogs the way did not seem too long. Infact, Rags, full of joyful exuberance at this rare treat, dashed
abouton all sorts of secondary adventures, running three miles to every onetraversed. Even sturdy little Alert, in spite of his short legs, tookit all as a lark and did not think to be weary until he reached homethat afternoon and fell sound asleep on his front door mat.
The arrival of the four canine strangers at Willowdale created a gooddeal of commotion in the fenced-in runs, and Rags nearly went crazywith the excitement. But Tom Poultice took it all good-naturedly, andwhen he had got things quieted down a little he took the boys throughthe kennels and introduced them to the prize dogs.
They were all so absorbed in this pleasant occupation that it wasnoon before they knew it, and Mrs. Hartshorn came out to invite themall up to the porch for a luncheon. As they were following her up tothe house she asked questions about their four dogs, and appeared totake a great interest in Alert especially.
"He's really a very fine little dog," she said. "But who is this?"Rags had come up and thrust his cold nose ingratiatingly into herhand.
"Oh, that's Rags," they said, and interrupted each other withexplanations. Mrs. Hartshorn laughed.
"Well, I would hardly know what to call him," she said, "but he isevidently a very popular person. But what's the matter with his back?"
"Oh, it just itches," said Jimmie.
There was a spot on Rags's back that was difficult for him to reach,and it gave him a good deal of trouble, but he had managed to bite agood deal of the hair out of it. Beneath, Mrs. Hartshorn discoveredthe skin to be in a scabby and unhealthy condition.
"Well," said she, "this shouldn't be neglected. It may be mange, andthat's serious. Let's have Tom look at it."
Tom came up at her bidding and examined Rags's back.
"Do you think it's mange, Tom?" asked Mrs. Hartshorn.
"I don't think so," said he. "It looks like heczema, like theHairedales had last summer. 'E better 'ave some of that medicine, Ifancy."
"All right," said Mrs. Hartshorn, "I still have some at the house, Ithink, that I got in case my dogs should need it. Eczema," sheexplained to the boys, "isn't exactly a skin disease. It is caused bythe dog's general condition, and should be treated internally, thoughif you will rub zinc ointment on that spot it will heal more rapidly.The cure is first a good dose of sulphur and cream of tartar; you canget that in tablet form at the drug store. Then give him the pills Iam going to get for you. They are a tonic and ought to fix him up allright."
"Only be sure not to feed him any corn meal," warned Tom.
"That's so," said Mrs. Hartshorn, "especially now that warm weather iscoming."
Before the boys left that afternoon she gave Jimmie half a dozen softpills and also a prescription for more. It read, "Sulphate of quinine,1 grain; sulphate of iron, 2 grains; extract of hyoscyamus, 1 grain;with enough extract of taraxacum and glycerine to make a pill." Itmight be added that Jimmie used this medicine faithfully and the sore,itching spot at length disappeared from Rags's back.
Meanwhile the boys had arranged themselves expectantly on the frontporch and the maid presently appeared with plates, napkins,sandwiches, crullers, and lemonade. Mrs. Hartshorn was a charminghostess and the boys waxed merry over their luncheon. Great piles ofsandwiches disappeared as if by magic, and then there was chocolateice cream and sponge cake. The dogs lay eying their masters enviously,all except the incorrigible Rags. He sat up and begged constantly, andeven Mrs. Hartshorn could not resist the temptation to toss him amorsel now and then, which he caught with great deftness.
Just as they were finishing, Mr. Hartshorn drove up in his car.
"What have we here?" he cried. "An orphan asylum or a dog show?"
He got out of his car and ascended the steps, demanding his share ofthe luncheon. Those of the boys who had not already met him wereintroduced. Then he asked to be made acquainted with the dogs.
"What do you think of them?" asked Herbie Pierson, who was very proudof his imposing Great Dane.
"I'll tell you after I've partaken of a little nourishment," said Mr.Hartshorn. "You can't expect a man to talk learnedly on an emptystomach, can you?"
He proceeded to do ample justice to his share of the sandwiches andice cream, while a jolly conversation was kept up, even the shyer boysentering in at last.
"Now," said Mr. Hartshorn, as he finished his last spoonful, "let'shave a look at that Great Dane."
He stepped down from the porch and approached Hamlet, who submitted tohis caress with dignity. Then Mr. Hartshorn did strange things to himwhich brought a look of amazement into his eyes. He pulled back thedog's hind feet and made him stand straight, measured his head withhis hands, pulled down his lips, and thumped his ribs.
"A pretty good dog," said Mr. Hartshorn. "A trifle off in theshoulders, perhaps, and a bit cow-hocked, but he has a good head. Evershow him?"
"No, sir," said Herbie.
"Well, you ought to. We'll see about that some time."
"Won't you tell us something about Great Danes and other dogs, Mr.Hartshorn?" asked Harry Barton. "Things like you told us about theterriers the other day."
"Why," said he, "I thought I must have given you such a dose of it theother time that you would want to run away from any more."
"Oh, no, sir," said Ernest Whipple. "We thought it was veryinteresting. We've talked it over a lot since, and we want to knowabout all the other kinds of dogs, too. All the boys do."
"Well," said Mr. Hartshorn, "you never can tell what a boy will like,I guess. If you had to learn all that in school, I'll bet you'd hateit. But I don't want to overdo it. I'll tell you about just a few thistime."
The boys crowded around him expectantly as he sat down again on theporch.
"The Great Dane," he began, "though once a hunting dog, a boarhound,is now classed among the non-sporting breeds, and I'll tell yousomething about those. They include the very biggest dogs--themastiff, the St. Bernard, the Newfoundland, and the Great Dane. Thesmaller ones are the English bulldog, the French bulldog, the chowchow, the poodle, the Dalmatian, and the schipperke. The collies andother sheepdogs are also classed with the non-sporting breeds, butI'll save those for another time. Let me get a book or two, so thatI'll be sure to get my information correct.
"Now then," he continued, when he had returned with his books, "I'lloutline a few facts about each of these breeds, but in order to avoidsounding like a walking catalogue, I am going to omit a good manythings like color, size, and weight. These things are very importantin distinguishing the breeds, but they aren't very easy to carry inyour heads, and you can find them all set down in the dog books. Ishall try to tell you only the interesting, picturesque things abouteach breed's history and character, and you can find all the rest inthe books.
"Let's begin with the St. Bernard. He's the biggest of all. Who knowsanything about the St. Bernard?"
"There's a piece in the Fourth Reader about them," ventured TheronHammond. "They used to guide travelers in the Alps and rescue themwhen they were lost in the snow."
"And there was one named Barry," put in Harry Barton, "who saved thelives of forty people, and they set up a monument of him in Paris."
"Correct," said Mr. Hartshorn. "There's no breed more famed in songand story than the St. Bernard. It was developed long ago by the monksof the Hospice of St. Bernard in Switzerland, who trained their dogsfor the purposes you have mentioned. So many of them were lost,however, that the breed got into a bad way a hundred years ago and hadto be brought back by crossing with the Newfoundland and other breeds.As I said, it is one of the largest breeds, sometimes weighing as muchas two hundred pounds--more than most men."
"Are there some good St. Bernard stories?" asked Jack Whipple, whopreferred anecdotes to descriptive particulars.
"A lot of them," said Mr. Hartshorn, "but there seems to be a gooddeal of sameness about them. They tell of the saving of Alpinetravelers and shepherds, lost in snowstorms or caught in crevasses inglaciers. Some of them are very thrilling. The best story I ever readabout a St. Bernard, however, had nothing to do with mountaineering.
"The Count, hearing of these preparations, screwed up his courage andcalled on General Morosini. He praised to the skies the tableappointments, which pleased the General, but as soon as he began toplead his own cause, the General became cold and unyielding andbegged the Count to cease annoying him about these petty matters. Asthe Count left the General's palace, he turned to his faithful dog,with tears in his eyes, and said, 'You see, my friend, how badly I amused.'
"The St. Bernard was greatly affected by this, and he formed in hisown mind a plan of revenge, since it was beyond his powers to securejustice. Unobserved, he stole back into the General's palace, and justas the Doge was arriving with his retinue, the dog seized the cornerof the tablecloth in his mouth and dashed out of the house, upsettingthe entire banquet and smashing most of the valuable glassware. Idon't believe there is any moral to that story, but perhaps that won'tspoil it for you.
"I don't believe I have any mastiff stories," continued Mr. Hartshorn,"but that breed must be mentioned in passing, as it is one of the veryold and very famous breeds of England. The mastiff used to be popularhere thirty years ago, but we seldom see any now, and sometimes I fearthe breed is dying out. It's too bad, for he was a fine, powerful dog,brave and wise.
"Another fine dog that has gone out of fashion is the Newfoundland.There are still some good ones in England, but very few here. Isuppose the Newfoundland has more rescues of drowning persons to hiscredit than any other breed, and it's a shame to see him go. The breedoriginated on the island of Newfoundland a hundred years ago, and youwill still see a dog's head on the Newfoundland postage stamps.
"The Newfoundland has a waterproof coat and is a wonderful swimmer, sothat a good many of the anecdotes told about dogs of this breed haveto do with their exploits in the water. For example, there is one of aman who fell off a narrow foot-bridge into a swift mill stream. Themiller's dog promptly dived in and rescued him, and havingaccomplished this, coolly plunged in again to save the man's hat thatwas just about to be swept over the dam. There are several amusingstories told of Newfoundlands dragging bathers to shore, quite againsttheir wills, because the dogs fancied they were in danger.
"A naval lieutenant owned a canary bird and a Newfoundland dog. Whilethey were cruising in the Mediterranean, the bird escaped from thecabin and, flying out to sea, became weighted down with the spray anddropped into the water. The dog leaped overboard, and when he washauled up on deck again, he dropped the bird out of his mouth, quiteuninjured. Another naval officer who owned a Newfoundland was drownedwhen his ship was sunk near Liverpool. The faithful dog swam aboutover the spot for three days and three nights, searching vainly forhis master, before he would allow himself to be brought exhausted toland.
"Friendships between two dogs are very rare, but instances have beenrecorded, and in most of these a Newfoundland figures. At Donaghadeethere was once a mastiff and a Newfoundland who were, for some reason,bitter enemies, and as both were powerful dogs, it was desirable tokeep them apart. One day, however, the mastiff attacked theNewfoundland on the pier, and a terrific fight ensued. At length bothdogs fell into the water and loosed their holds. The Newfoundland wassoon on dry land, but the mastiff was a poor swimmer and appeared indanger of drowning. The Newfoundland, observing the plight of hisrecent antagonist, plunged in again and brought him to shore, afterwhich the two dogs were the closest friends. Another Newfoundland atCork became so annoyed by a small, troublesome cur, that at last hetook him in his mouth and dropped him into the water. When the smalldog was nearly drowned the Newfoundland rescued him, and was neverannoyed by him again.
"But the Newfoundland has been the means of saving not merely drowningpersons. In 1841 a laborer named Rake in the parish of Botley, nearSouthampton, in England, was buried in a gravel pit with two ribsbroken. He was helpless and would undoubtedly have died there if hisemployer's Newfoundland dog had not dug him out.
"William Youatt, who wrote two or three of the dog books in mylibrary, tells of an experience he once had with a friend'sNewfoundland dog named Carlo. Youatt and the friend and Carlo partedon the road to Kingston, the dog and his master turning off towardWandsworth. Soon afterward Youatt was accosted by ruffians. He neverknew what made Carlo come back to him, but the dog appeared at thecritical moment and drove the men away. Carlo escorted Youatt to asafe place, and then, in the author's quaint words, 'with many amutual and honest greeting we parted, and he bounded away to overtakehis rightful owner.'
"The Newfoundland has always been famous as the protector of children,and this is illustrated by an amusing story told of a Newfoundlandthat was owned by the chief engineer on H. M. S. _Buffalo_. Theincident took place on an evening in 1858 at the Woolwich theater inLondon. In the third act of the play, 'Jessie Vere,' there was aviolent struggle over the possession of a child. The dog, who hadsneaked into the theater behind his master, flew to the rescue acrossthe footlights, much to the consternation of all concerned."
"My!" said Ernest Whipple, "there are certainly a fine lot ofstories about Newfoundlands. Are they all true?"
"Well," smiled Mr. Hartshorn, "I can't vouch for them all, but Ibelieve that most of them are founded on fact, and some of them areundoubtedly quite true. Now let's see what the next dog is.
"The Great Dane is at the present time the most popular of the verylarge dogs. As you can see by looking at Hamlet, he is a powerful,graceful animal. The breed was used in Germany, I don't know how longago, for hunting the wild boar and was introduced into England in the'80's as the German boarhound. You can see from this one what kind ofdog it is. The ears are commonly cropped in this country, but in 1895the practice was abolished in England for all breeds. I hope some dayit will be abolished here. The fanciers think cropping makes the doglook smarter, but it's a silly, unnatural thing to do, when you cometo think of it. I wish I didn't have to do it with my bull terriers,but they would never take prizes with long ears. I don't remember anyGreat Dane stories.
"Now we come to the smaller ones. Mike here is a very good Englishbulldog, though not so extreme a type as some of them. This breed,like the mastiff, is of British origin, and probably came from thesame ancestry. He was trained for bull baiting and later for pitfighting. Tramps and other people are afraid of bulldogs because oftheir frightful appearance, but as you can see, if you know Mike, theyare often as gentle as lambs.
"The French bulldog is much smaller and he is different in manyrespects. He has big bat ears, for one thing. The chow chow is aninteresting dog that comes from China. Perhaps you will be amazed whenI tell you that this dog was originally bred and fattened by theChinese to be eaten like pork and mutton. The tastes of the Orientalare certainly peculiar.
"The poodle, which was originally a German dog but which was developedchiefly in France, used to be better known than he is now. He issupposed to be the cleverest of all dogs and you will usually findpoodles in troops of trick dogs."
"It seems to me," said Theron, "that I've read some stories aboutpoodles."
"Yes, there are a number of classic poodle stories," said Mr.Hartshorn, "illustrating the cleverness of the breed. I am sorry tosay that poodles have been trained as thieves' dogs, and have beenwidely used by smugglers on the French frontiers, who trained them tocarry lace and other valuable commodities across the border.
"The most famous of these stories is that of the poodle of the PontNeuf, one of the bridges of Paris. He was owned by a bootblack, whotaught him to roll in the mud of the Seine and then run a
bout amongthe pedestrians on the bridge, dirtying their shoes. This meant morebusiness for the bootblack. An Englishman observed this performanceand was much impressed by the dog's smartness in carrying out hispart. He offered the bootblack a good price for the poodle and tookhim back to London with him. But the poodle didn't care for his newlife; apparently he had no wish to reform. Somehow or other he managedto stow himself away on a Channel boat and made his way back to Paris,where he returned to his former master and resumed his oldoccupation."
Toy Poodle]
When the boys had finished laughing over this droll story, Mr.Hartshorn continued:
"The Dalmatian or coach dog comes from eastern Europe, and was bredlong ago in Dalmatia, now an Austrian province. He was well known inEngland by 1800 and was used there as a stable dog and was trained torun with the horses and under the carriages. Here you will see themmost often as mascots in fire engine houses. It's queer how fashionsrun in those things. He is always pure white, evenly covered withround black or brown spots.
"The last of this group is the schipperke. I don't believe you knowhim, for the breed isn't very common here. The name means 'littleskipper,' and the dog has long been a favorite with the captains ofFlemish and Dutch canal barges. The schipperke has no tail to wag.There," he concluded, "I guess I've filled you up with enough doginformation for this trip. I don't want to overdo it."
"You couldn't overdo it for me," said Ernest Whipple. "Will you tellus about some of the other breeds another day?"
"And tell us more anecdotes?" chimed in Jack.
"I promise," said Mr. Hartshorn.
Ernest, Harry, and Theron were boys of the type that love to collectfacts and figures, and they had recently been doing some reading onthe subject of the breeds of dogs. They discussed the matter all theway home, becoming quite excited now and then over disputed points.
"Mr. Hartshorn said that Rags didn't belong to any regular breed,"said Jimmie Rogers as the boys separated, "but I don't care. Thereought to be a breed like him, anyway, 'cause there isn't any betterdog anywhere. Rags is good enough for me."
"That's right," cried the other boys in chorus. "You stick to Rags.He's all right, whatever the books say. Good-by, Rags. So long, Jim."
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