Part 18 (2/2)
Mr. Hartshorn bowed and withdrew, while Mrs. Hartshorn remarked to a friend that she didn't believe he had ever made such a long speech before in his life. The spectators crowded around the winners to congratulate the three boys and to pat and admire their dogs. More than one person in that barn had his or her eyes opened that day for the first time to the points of excellence of dog-flesh. Still, there were some who stepped back to the bench where Rags sat, an uncomprehending spectator, and a.s.sured him that he was the best dog in the show after all, and that he would have received the silver cup if they had been the judges. Ernest and Theron had never known a happier day of triumph, and even d.i.c.k Wheaton, who had received his prize with a supercilious smile, appeared to be a bit softened for the time being and to show some pride in his owners.h.i.+p of the much-abused Gyp.
There were, indeed, some heart-burnings among the losers. Herbie Pierson, for one, had had high hopes of Hamlet. But they had all agreed to accept the outcome like good sports and they could not remain long despondent in the face of the success of their show. As for Jack Whipple, the youngest exhibitor of all, he displayed a spirit that the others would have been ashamed not to follow. He was frankly pleased at the success of Romulus, and stoutly a.s.serted that Remus would have his big day yet. Mr. Fellowes was as much pleased as Ernest was, and privately confided to him that he was glad Romulus didn't get first prize, as he would have been disappointed to see any other dog wearing that collar.
The people were beginning to file out of the barn, after a final tour of the benches, when Mr. Hartshorn, standing beside the cas.h.i.+er's booth, once more called for order.
”As you know,” he said in his strong voice, ”the proceeds of this show are to be given to the Red Cross, and you may be interested to learn just how much has been netted for that good cause by to-day's unique effort on the part of the Boytown Humane Society. The treasurer, Theron Hammond, has been busy with arithmetic for the past twenty minutes and has an announcement to make.”
Theron was suddenly stricken with stage fright, but he did not attempt to make a speech. He merely read the figures of his report.
”Entry fees for 26 dogs,” he read, ”$13.00. Attendance, 242. Gate receipts, $60.50. Total receipts, $73.50. Advertising, $8.00. Other expenses, $2.67. Total expense, $10.67. Net proceeds, $62.83.”
”I wonder,” remarked Mr. Hartshorn to his wife, ”if a dozen women could knit $62.83 worth of m.u.f.flers in one day.”
The exhibitors began taking their weary dogs home and the boys started the cleaning-up process that was part of their bargain with Mr.
Morton. And so the great day ended.
The only fly in the ointment of Ernest and Jack Whipple was the fact that, although their father had been an enthusiastic spectator throughout the greater part of the afternoon, their mother had not seen fit to attend. She was very busy, she said, and anyway, dogs did not particularly interest her.
Next morning the two local papers contained full accounts of the show, to the extent of a column or more, and they treated it as one of the season's events of Boytown, giving the names of all the dogs and their owners and a complete report of the awards, besides the treasurer's report. One of them even published an editorial praising the work of the Humane Society and suggesting that the town should be proud of its boys and its dogs. Mr. Whipple and the boys devoured the contents of these papers eagerly before breakfast. After breakfast they found Mrs.
Whipple reading one of them in the sitting-room.
”What are you reading, mother?” asked Mr. Whipple, but she was so absorbed that she did not answer for a time.
At length she murmured, half to herself, ”Hm! I don't see yet why Remus didn't get a prize.”
Whereat, it must be related, Mr. Whipple turned and winked at the boys in a most undignified manner.
CHAPTER XII
CAMP BRITCHES
Spring came, and with it more training for Romulus, until Sam p.r.o.nounced him a fairly well-broken bird dog. May drifted into June and June into July. Another school year came to a close and another long vacation period began. The great dog show was now a thing of ancient history and things were a bit slow in Boytown. It appeared essential to the happiness and welfare of numerous boys and dogs that something new should be undertaken.
It was Jimmie Rogers who suggested it, though there were a dozen active, eager minds ready to seize upon the idea and develop it. They were sitting on the bank of the swimming hole near the brickyard, resting after an hour's swim and warming themselves in the sun. The dogs were either wandering restlessly about in search of new adventures, or were stretched out at their masters' feet. The boys were somewhat languidly discussing the events of the Glorious Fourth just past, and bemoaning the fact that another one would be so long in coming.
”Fourth o' July's all right,” remarked Jimmie, ”but I think the most fun in the whole world is camping out.”
”Ho!” scoffed Harry Barton. ”When did you ever go camping out?”
”I camped out one night with my father in an old shack over Oakdale way,” a.s.serted Jimmie.
”That isn't camping out,” said Harry. ”Camping out is living in a tent in the woods all summer, catching your own fish and cooking your own grub and--and everything.”
”Did you ever do that?” demanded Jimmie.
Harry was forced to admit that he never did.
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