The Dogs of Boytown

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER IX

  THE TRAINING OF ROMULUS

  On the way back from Thornboro that day something happened that gave anew direction to the thoughts and aspirations of Ernest and JackWhipple. They had gone somewhat out of their way to a woods road thatwas shadier and cooler than the highway and Romulus was nosing andsniffing about in the underbrush quite a little distance to the left.Ernest whistled, but Romulus apparently did not hear. He seemed to bedarting about in the bushes with unusual eagerness.

  "What has he found, do you s'pose?" asked Jack.

  "Let's go and see," said Ernest.

  The two boys and Remus turned out of the road and approached the spotwhere Romulus was hunting. Suddenly there was a whir of wings and adark object flashed upward and disappeared among the trees.

  For a moment Romulus and Remus both stood rigid, with heads and tailsoutstretched. Then they broke and disappeared in the woods. It wassome little time before the boys could get them back again andstarted along the homeward road. The boys, breathless with running,had not spoken to each other, but now Ernest said:

  "It was some kind of a bird, Jack. Did you notice?"

  "Yes," said Jack. "Why, Ernest, they know how to hunt already."

  "I guess it's instinct," said Ernest. "And did you see them point?They really did, for a minute, just like Sam's Nan, or the pictures inthe books."

  "Oh, Ernest," cried Jack, "we must take them hunting. Do you s'pose wecould?"

  "Sam could, anyway," said the older boy. "He said he'd train them."

  The rest of the way home they talked of nothing but hunting and thewonderful achievements that were in store for the two dogs.

  Mr. Whipple approved the plan to have Romulus and Remus trained. Agood dog, in his eyes, was a dog that was good for something, and herecognized the value of a well-trained bird dog though he had nodesire to see the boys become too fond of hunting themselves.

  "All right," said he, "take them up to Bumpus and let him train them,but you boys must promise not to ask to handle a gun yourselves.You're not old enough, for one thing, and besides, your motherdoesn't approve of shooting. It's a dangerous business at best.Remember, now, no nonsense about guns."

  The boys, willing to postpone that question till some future time,readily promised, and on a Saturday morning in September, soon afterthe reopening of school, they took the dogs up to Sam's shack.

  "Remember," said Sam, "I ain't promisin' anything. You never can tellwhat kind of a bird dog a setter will make till you've tried him out.I've got a lot of other things to attend to this fall, too. But I'lldo the best I can, and you mustn't be impatient if they ain't allfinished off in two weeks. Now we'll take 'em out for their firstlesson."

  That first lesson proved to be a rather tedious affair to Ernest andJack. Nothing was said about birds or guns, pointing or retrieving.Sam's chief aim was to get the dogs to obey his word and whistle aswell as they obeyed those of the boys, and the latter were forced tokeep silent while he gradually gained the mastery over the two livelyyoung dogs. Sam displayed, in this, much greater patience than theboys did, but still it was pleasant to be out in the fields this fineSeptember day and to watch the dogs as they came to respond more andmore readily to the commands of their trainer. At first, indeed, therewas but one command, expressed by a sharp whistle or by the words"Come here, boy!" Sam seemed determined to add no further commandsuntil he had secured unfailing and prompt obedience to this one. But,slow as the process was, it was really remarkable what progress wasmade in a few short hours.

  At noon they took the dogs back to the shack to enjoy a rest and a drybone apiece, while Sam cooked and served a delicious luncheon ofbuckwheat cakes, bacon, and cocoa. Then, after he had enjoyed a pipeor two and they had listened to some of his tales of dogs and hunting,they started out again.

  This time Sam fastened a cord of good length to the dogs' collars,something they were not used to.

  "I'll need to use this later on," said he, "and they've got to getused to the feel of it first. They've got to learn to stand it withoutpullin', and to answer the signals."

  Again he exhibited extraordinary patience, for the dogs resented thisunaccustomed restraint and seemed possessed to pull at their leads andtry to break away. It took a good two hours to break them to thissimple harness. Then Sam took it off and went all over the firstlesson again, which at first the dogs appeared to have forgotten.

  "Well, as the minister says, here endeth the first lesson," said Samwhen the shadows of late afternoon began to lengthen, and theyturned back again toward the shack. The boys now realized that theywere very tired.

  "Do you think they'll ever learn?" asked Jack, somewhat plaintively.

  "Why, sure," said Sam. "I've seen worse ones than these. They're highspirited, as good dogs ought to be, and a bit heady, but they'lllearn. They've done very well, so far."

  Still doubting, but somewhat encouraged, the boys prepared to taketheir departure. In order that the training might go on uninterruptedit was necessary to leave Romulus and Remus in Sam's care, and it is aquestion which felt the worse about the separation, the boys or thedogs. Ernest and Jack knew that their pets would be in good hands andkindly treated, but it was hard to say good-by. As for the dogs, theyset up a howling and crying, when they found they were being deserted.

  "They'll soon get over that," said Sam. "They'll begin to take aninterest in the other dogs pretty soon, and then they'll feel more athome."

  Thus reassured, the boys started off down the road without theirfour-footed comrades, but the insistent wails that followed them werevery heart-rending, and two big tears rolled down Jack's round cheeks.And it was several days before they could get used to the desolate,deserted look of Rome or become reconciled to the absence of theirplaymates.

  They could hardly wait for the next Saturday to come, when they couldgo up again to Sam's shack and visit their beloved dogs. Romulus andRemus were overjoyed at seeing them again, and it was some time beforeSam could get them quieted down sufficiently to take them out foranother lesson. He had been training them during the week, and theboys now heard him addressing them with strange words. He placed theircheck-cords on again, and this time the dogs did not seem to resent itso much. Indeed, they seemed to look upon it as the preliminary of agood time, which, as Sam explained, was the idea he had tried toimpress on them.

  "Hie-on!" cried Sam, and the dogs started off at a bound.

  "To-ho!" he called. This meant to stop abruptly, and this command thedogs, hoping for a good run, did not obey so readily. A quick tug atthe check-cord reminded them of the meaning of the command, and soonthey stopped more promptly at the words.

  "Come in," said Sam, and the dogs approached him.

  "Charge!" said Sam. "Down!" After several attempts the dogsreluctantly obeyed and crouched at his feet.

  "Heel!" he cried, and after several repetitions of the order they tooktheir places quietly behind him.

  "They're always a little slower the first thing in the mornin'," Samexplained, "before they've run off some of their deviltry. They'llimprove as they go along."

  And improve they did. In the afternoon Sam took them out without thecheck-cord and kept perseveringly at them until they would "hie-on"and "to-ho" and "charge" and "heel" with reasonable promptness.

  "By next week I hope to show you something more," said Sam.

  "When will you shoot over them and teach them to point?" asked Ernest.

  "Oh, not for some time yet," said Sam. "They've got to learn the a b cof it first. Next I shall try to teach them to answer my hand. FirstI'll call and wave at the same time, and then just wave. Then they'vegot to learn to range--to go whichever direction I want 'em to andturn when I want 'em to. Then I'll give 'em lessons in retrievin'."

  But before another Saturday had come around, Sam had discoveredsomething--something which affected the whole future career of Remus.

  Ernest and Jack had duties to perform that Saturday which engaged themthe entire morning, and they were unable
to go up to Sam's untilafternoon. Their visit was consequently a short one and they had butlittle time to spend with Sam in the field. They found, however, thatthe training had been progressing satisfactorily. Sam was allowing thedogs to range in ever widening circles, and on the whole they wereobeying his commands in a promising manner. They were beginning toretrieve objects, also, not as a hit-or-miss game after the manner ofRags, but in answer to the commands "Go fetch it," and "Pick it up."Moreover, the dogs were less homesick now that they had begun to takean interest in their occupations and to become acquainted with theother dogs. They seemed to understand, too, that Ernest and Jack hadnot utterly deserted them but might be expected to appear at almostany moment.

  But when it came time to go home Sam detained them for a moment.

  "I've got to tell you something," said he, scratching his chin andlooking a bit unhappy, "and I don't believe you'll like it much."

  "Oh," cried Ernest, "can't you keep the dogs?"

  "I can keep Romulus," said Sam, "but I've got to ask you to take Remusback. I've given him every chance and I find he's hopeless as a birddog. He learns quick enough--quicker than Romulus if anything. Buthe's got no nose, none at all, and a setter with no nose is aboutuseless in the field. It would be a waste of time to try to trainhim, and when we got on the birds he would only get in Romulus's wayand spoil him. So I guess you'll have to take him back and let me goahead with the good one."

  "Why, what do you mean?" inquired Jack, struggling to hide hisdisappointment. "Can't he smell?"

  "Oh, I s'pose he can tell spoiled fish when he gets it, but he don'tcatch the scent of anything on the air. I guess it was the distemperthat did it. He had it worse than Romulus and it often spoils theirnoses when they have it hard enough. I'm sorry, but it can't be helpedand it can't be cured."

  For a few minutes Jack stood silent, pressing his lips together. Thensuddenly he knelt down beside Remus and hugged him passionately.

  "I don't care whether you've got a nose or not, Remus," he cried. "Idon't want to go hunting, ever. Noses don't matter. You're the bestdog in the whole world, anyhow."

  And so they took Remus back with them that afternoon, leaving Romulusbehind, howling mournfully for his brother.

  Such reports as they received from Sam indicated that the training ofRomulus proceeded with fair rapidity during the fall. They were notable to go up to his shack very often for one reason or another, andJack, at least, was not so anxious to do so as he had been. Remuslived in solitary luxury in Rome and was in some danger of beingspoiled by the petting he received from his loyal master.

  Romulus, so Ernest learned, could now retrieve at command and wouldbring back a dead pigeon or other bird without rumpling its feathers.He would also range in obedience to a wave of Sam's hand and wasgradually learning to stand fast and hold his point when he flushed acovey of birds. Finally Sam took out his gun to shoot over him, andthe rest of his training was to be chiefly that persistent practicewhich finally makes perfect.

  It was decided that Romulus should remain with Sam until snow fell,but one night there came a scratching and a whining at the door and aseries of peculiar short little barks so persistently kept up thatthey awakened both the boys. They slipped on their dressing gowns andslippers and stole downstairs.

  At the door they found Romulus with a broken bit of rope tied to hiscollar.

  "Why," cried Jack, "it's Romulus. See, he must have broken away."

  "He came all the way home alone in the dark," said Ernest. "How do yous'pose he ever found his way?"

  Romulus seemed to understand that it was not the time to make a noise,for though he kept leaping on the boys in an access of delight andmaking little sounds in his throat that were almost human, herefrained from the loud, joyous barking that he would have indulged inif it had been daytime. Remus had heard him, however, and was making aconsiderable commotion in Rome. So the boys took Romulus quietly outto his brother, who greeted him with paw and tongue and voice, andbidding both dogs goodnight, they went back to the house.

  So it was decided that if Romulus so much desired his own home, heshould be deprived of it no longer. Sam came down in a day or two tofind out about it.

  "I thought he'd probably run home," said he, "but I wanted to makesure. I guess we'd better leave him here now. I'm pretty near throughwith him for this fall, anyway. You just bring him up once in awhileso I can take him out and not let him forget what I've learned him."

  Meanwhile the affairs of Boytown were going on much as usual. Autumnpassed in golden glory, with nutting expeditions in October in whichsometimes as many as a dozen boys and a dozen dogs joined forces. Asthey started out through the town streets, Mr. Fellowes, the newsdealer and stationer, said it looked as though a circus had come totown.

  Such things, however, were of common and regular occurrence. Only twoepisodes of that season deserve to be specially recorded. One was adog fight which for a time brought the dog-owning fraternity ofBoytown into ill repute.

  For some time several of the boys had been bragging, as boys will,about the prowess in battle of their particular dogs, and thisnarrowed down at length to an unsettled controversy between MontyHubbard and Harry Barton. Monty maintained that the Irish terrier wasthe greatest dare-devil and fighter in the canine world, and he quotedbooks and individuals to prove it. Harry, on the other hand, insistedthat the bulldog's grit and tenacity were proverbial, and loudlyasserted that if Mike once got a grip on Mr. O'Brien's throat, itwould be good-by, Mr. O'Brien.

  It is only fair to the boys to state that it was the Irish terrierthat started the fracas on his own initiative. He was a scrappyterrier, always ready to start something, and it usually requiredconsiderable vigilance to keep him out of trouble. But it must beconfessed that on this particular occasion his master did not exertthe usual restraint.

  It happened out on the road that Ernest and Jack so often took whenthey visited Sam Bumpus or Trapper's Cave. Mr. O'Brien had beenannoying the other dogs for some little time, rushing and barking atthem and inviting a friendly encounter. He was not vicious, but heloved a tussle. Finally Mike the bulldog, usually so long-suffering,lost patience and turned on Mr. O'Brien with a menacing snarl thatseemed to mean business. For a moment the Irishman stood still insurprise, while Mike, his head held low, waited with a stubborn lookin his eyes.

  Irish Terrier]

  That was clearly the time for interference, but I regret to say thatinstead of interfering, the boys grouped themselves about withfeelings of not unpleasant anticipation. I further regret to say thatErnest Whipple was one of the most interested.

  Suddenly Mr. O'Brien, recovering from his surprise, returned to theattack with an impetuous rush which nearly bowled Mike over. ButMike was heavier than Mr. O'Brien and stood very solidly on his fouroutspread feet. He merely turned about and presented a terrifyingfront to his more active antagonist. Again Mr. O'Brien rushed, seekinga hold on Mike's big, muscular neck.

  For a time Mr. O'Brien seemed to be having the best of it. He took theoffensive and seemed to be on all sides of Mike at once. The bulldog'sear was bleeding and Harry urged him to retaliate.

  Suddenly Mike raised his huge bulk and bore down the lighter dogbeneath his weight. Then he began methodically seeking the vice-likehold that would have meant the last of Mr. O'Brien.

  Just at that moment, however, a diversion occurred.

  "Here, there, what are you doin'?" demanded a man's hoarse voice, andSam Bumpus came striding into the thick of it. Without the slightestfear or hesitation, though such an act was decidedly not withoutdanger, he darted in and seized the dogs by their collars, one in eachhand, and displaying wonderful strength of arm he dragged them apart.If Mike had succeeded in getting his hold, if Sam had come up a minutelater, he could not have done it. As it was, he held the snarling,struggling dogs at arm's length, shook them, and then ordered theirmasters to take them in charge and keep them apart.

  Ernest had never seen Sam angry before; he was usually the embodimentof even-tempered g
ood humor. But he was angry now. His jaws snappedand his eyes flashed, and he seemed to be itching to give somebody agood spanking. At last he spoke.

  "I thought you boys was fond of dogs," he said. "I thought you made agreat fuss about bein' kind to animals. You ought to be ashamed ofyourselves, settin' two good dogs on to fight each other. Don't youknow no better? Dogs are built to fight, and they ought to know how towhen it's necessary, but any man or boy that starts 'em fightin' forsport is a coward."

  Without another word he turned and vanished into the woods. The boysmade no comments, either, and I am glad to say that most of them wereabout as ashamed of themselves as boys can be. By common consent theafternoon's expedition was abandoned and the company dispersed.

  But that was not all of it. The story of the dog fight leaked out, andthere was more than one home in Boytown in which a boy was warned thatif anything of that kind happened again there would be no more dogs inthat family. And Monty Hubbard received something even more impressivethan a lecture. Mrs. Hammond, when she heard of it, was wise enough tosay nothing until the matter had cooled down somewhat. Then she tookoccasion to set forth her views in a way that the boys never forgot,and there was never another encouraged dog fight in that town.

  The other incident which I spoke of was the strange disappearance ofRomulus. One morning he was gone and he did not return home all thatday. Ernest searched for him in vain and went to bed that night with avery heavy heart. The next day Romulus did not appear, nor the next.Acting on his father's advice, Ernest placed an advertisement in thepaper and offered a reward, but without result. Little by littleErnest was forced to give up hope, and a very disconsolate boy he was.Jack and Remus did their best to console him, but he grieved night andday. No one could suggest what had become of Romulus.

  Then, on the evening of the fifth day, a slight scratching was heardat the door, and a low whine. Ernest, who was studying his lessons,heard it first. Dropping his book on the floor, he rushed out, closelyfollowed by Jack and Mr. Whipple. There lay Romulus on the door mat,"all in," as Sam Bumpus would have said. He was so weak and weary thathe could hardly rise, and the wonder was that he had been able to draghimself home. A piece of rope attached to his collar showed that hehad broken loose from somewhere, and bleeding feet testified to thedistance he had come. Ernest lifted him in his arms and buried hisface in the dog's shaggy coat, and Romulus responded as well as hecould with a warm, moist tongue and a wagging tail.

  After they had given him a dinner of warm broth and had made himcomfortable in Rome, Mr. Whipple succeeded at last in dragging Ernestaway.

  "He'll be all right now," said Mr. Whipple. "He's exhausted, but he'llsoon recover from that. He's a young dog, you know."

  "But where could he have been?" wondered Jack.

  "It's my belief that he was stolen," said Mr. Whipple. "Someone whoknew he was a valuable dog stole him, but I doubt if we shall everlearn who it was. But he must have been taken some distance away. Helooks as though he might have traveled thirty miles or more."

  "How do you s'pose he ever found his way back?" asked Jack.

  Mr. Whipple shook his head. "Dogs are wonderful creatures," said he.