Part 24 (2/2)

Mr. Hartshorn looked into the lad's eager, bright eyes and smiled.

”Perhaps,” said he. ”Let me think it over.”

As a matter of fact it was Mr. Hartshorn's desire not to seem to show favoritism that made him speak that way. For his own part he would like nothing better than to see Remus and one or two of the other dogs have a try at the ribbons, and his wife urged him to give them a chance. The outcome of it was that most of the boys were dissuaded, with quiet friendliness, from attempting the useless venture, while five dogs were eventually entered in the show of the Ma.s.satucket Kennel Club, to be held at Welden, some fifty miles from Boytown, in July. These five were Romulus, Remus, Alert, Hamlet, and Rover. These Mr. Hartshorn thought would stand the best chance of winning something. The Old English sheepdog was entered under his original name of Darley's Launcelot of Middles.e.x, and for once Elliot Garfield was proud of the name.

Mr. Hartshorn knew he had quite a handful of boys and dogs to look after, but Mrs. Hartshorn said she would help, while Tom Poultice took sole charge of the half-dozen Willowdale dogs that were also entered.

The Willowdale dogs were s.h.i.+pped ahead in crates, as usual. So was little Alert. The masters of the other four dogs, however, objected to a form of confinement which the dogs couldn't understand, and it was arranged that the boys should take the dogs with them in the baggage car. Theron Hammond courteously offered to accompany Mrs. Hartshorn in the coach and Tom Poultice took an earlier train, so the baggage car party consisted of Romulus, Remus, Hamlet, Rover, Mr. Hartshorn, Ernest and Jack Whipple, Herbie Pierson, and Elliot Garfield. It was fortunate that only half a car-load of baggage was traveling that day, or they might not have been able to crowd in. As it was, they managed to find seats on various boxes and trunks and made themselves fairly comfortable. The dogs, with their masters for company, were content, after the first sense of strangeness had worn off.

”I understand,” said Mr. Hartshorn, after the train had started, ”that about five hundred dogs are entered, so it ought to be a fairly representative show. It won't be like New York, of course, but you ought to have a chance to see good dogs of most of the well-known breeds. And the dogs at an outdoor show are usually happier and less nervous than if they were cooped up for two or three days in a crowded hall and compelled to spend their nights there. There are really serious objections to the big indoor shows. More danger of spreading distemper and other diseases, too, than at the outdoor shows.”

”Do you think we will see any of the famous champions there?” asked Herbie.

”Yes,” said Mr. Hartshorn, ”I believe some of the crack Sealyhams and wire-haired fox terriers are entered, and there's sure to be a good showing of Boston terriers. Alert will be in fast company.

”The wires are always worth seeing,” said he, after a pause. ”It was a white bull terrier that won best of all breeds in New York last winter, but during the last half-dozen years wire-haired fox terriers have won two-thirds of the first honors. The breeders seem to have nearly achieved perfection with this variety. Matford Vic, Wireboy of Paignton, Wycollar Boy, and several others have been almost perfect specimens. But you never can tell. Their day may be pa.s.sing, and for the next few years it may be Airedales or bulldogs, or almost any other breed that will force its way to the top. That's one of the interesting features of the dog-show game. Then sometimes you find all predictions upset, and all the big dogs beaten by a greyhound or an Old English sheepdog. There's always a chance for everybody.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: Beagles]

As the train pulled up at a station somewhere along the line a man entered the baggage car with a brace of beagles on a leash. Nice little dogs, they were, with friendly eyes and beautiful faces.

”Is the baggage man here?” asked the man.

”I haven't seen him lately,” said Mr. Hartshorn. ”Is there anything we can do for you?”

”Why, yes,” said the man. ”I'm sending these dogs down to Welden.

There'll be someone to call for them there. You look as though you might be bound for that place yourselves, and if you could keep an eye on these dogs it would be a great favor.”

”We'll do so with pleasure,” said Mr. Hartshorn.

”What are their names?” asked Ernest.

”Tippecanoe and Tyler Too,” he answered. ”I'm entering them as singles and as a brace, and I think I stand a pretty good show.”

The baggage man came along, and by the time the owner of the beagles had arranged for their s.h.i.+pment the train was ready to start again.

”It's lucky you were here to take them,” said the man, ”or I shouldn't have been able to send them this way. Good-by and good luck.”

”Good-by,” they shouted, and proceeded to get acquainted with the beagles.

”They're like small hounds, aren't they?” said Jack.

”Yes,” said Mr. Hartshorn, ”they are really hounds.”

”Oh,” said Ernest, ”that makes me think. You never told us about the hound breeds, and you said you would sometime. Couldn't you do it now?”

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