Part 24 (1/2)
”My congratulations,” said he. ”Your dog won, and I never hope to see a pluckier finish.”
The forenoon was already half over and so the Champions.h.i.+p stake was begun immediately, but the occupants of the Hartshorn automobile had no eyes for it. They could have told you nothing about what happened, though they learned afterward that it was an exciting contest in which some of the best dogs in New England took part. They were engrossed in their own triumph, and if ever a dog stood in danger of being spoiled, it was Romulus. Sam wore one of the broadest grins the human face is capable of and Ernest found his emotions quite beyond expression.
The party left early, before the Champions.h.i.+p stake was finished, and they made a triumphal entry into Boytown. The last part of the way they were accompanied by a noisy convoy of cheering boys and barking dogs, and the town knew what had happened long before it read the stirring account in the papers.
In due course Ernest received a handsome silver trophy, engraved with the now famous name of Romulus, and Mrs. Whipple appeared to be as proud of its appearance on the mantelpiece as any of the others. There was also the fifty dollar purse, from which Ernest was obliged to deduct a considerable amount for entrance fee and other expenses. The rest he tried to force upon Sam in payment for his invaluable services, but Sam would not hear of it.
”Why,” said Ernest, ”you earned ten times as much as that.”
”I didn't earn anything I didn't get,” said Sam. ”I raised that pup and I'm as proud of him as you are. I'm satisfied.”
So Ernest put the balance in the savings bank as a fund for financing similar undertakings in the future.
”A great dog, that Romulus,” said Mr. Whipple, when it was all over.
”I always did believe he'd cut a figure somehow. It's a pity Remus isn't in his cla.s.s.”
He didn't mean Jack to overhear him; he had no wish to hurt the boy's feelings. But Jack did overhear and came promptly into the room.
”That's all right,” said he. ”Remus will have his day yet. He'll show you.”
CHAPTER XVI
THE Ma.s.sATUCKET SHOW
During the winter the Willowdale dogs had again won bench-show honors in New York, Boston, and elsewhere, and Mr. Hartshorn and Tom Poultice were now getting some of them in shape for the smaller outdoor shows of the summer season. Several of the boys made a pilgrimage to Thornboro one day early in June and found Tom engaged in combing the soft, puppy hair out of the coat of one of the young Airedales.
”Why do you do that?” asked Elliot Garfield.
”It does seem foolish, doesn't it?” said Tom. ”Well, you see a Hairedale is supposed to 'ave a short, stiff coat, and if you put one in the ring with a lot of this soft 'air on him, the judge won't look twice at 'im.”
”Are you going to show this one?” asked Ernest Whipple.
”Yep,” said Tom. ”'E goes to Mineola next week. It'll be his first show. I don't know what his chances are. Mineola usually has a lot of good dogs. It's near New York and it's one of the biggest of the country shows. We usually try out the youngsters and the second-string dogs on these summer shows and keep the best ones for the big winter shows. Then we 'ave a chance to see 'ow they size up. If a dog wins ribbons enough in the summer shows we figure he's qualified for the big ones next winter. Sometimes a dog can win his champions.h.i.+p without ever seeing the inside of Madison Square Garden. He has to be shown a lot of times, that's all, and win pretty regular.”
”It isn't so hard to win at the summer shows, is it?” asked Theron Hammond.
”Oh, my, no,” said Tom. ”Sometimes when the cla.s.ses are small it's a cinch. Take a rare kind of dog and he's apt to 'ave no compet.i.tion.”
”I wonder if any of our dogs would have a chance at one of the summer shows,” said Jack, with suppressed eagerness in his voice.
”I don't know why not,” Tom responded.
That started the boys thinking and talking, and a week later they trooped out to see Mr. Hartshorn about it. Half the boys in town had decided that they wanted to show their dogs, and Mr. Hartshorn was at first inclined to discourage them all.
”It's quite a job, taking dogs to a show and caring for them there, and it costs something,” said he. ”You have some good dogs--in fact, they're all fine fellows--but not many of them are of the show type.
You would find the compet.i.tion somewhat different from that in Morton's barn. I don't believe your parents would thank me for encouraging you to enter dogs that haven't a good chance at the ribbons, and I'm sure I would hesitate to be responsible for looking after a gang of you.”
”But couldn't a few of the dogs be tried?” asked Jack Whipple.