Kitabı oku: «The Dogs of Boytown», sayfa 6

CHAPTER VIII
DOG DAYS

By June both Romulus and Remus were in full health again and Mr. Whipple admitted that they began to look like real English setters. They were puppies still, full of fun and mischief, but their coats had lost some of their fuzzy, silky character and their bodies had lengthened and filled out. They had gained a greater control over their muscles and in their gambols about the yard they had acquired considerable speed. Sam Bumpus came down again to look at them and pronounced them likely-looking youngsters.

"They've got some growin' to do yet," said he, "but they're gainin' bone and speed every day, and the first thing you know you'll have two fine bird dogs, or I don't know what I'm talking about."

They also displayed increasing devotion to their masters and had begun to develop, to a certain extent, the qualities of watchdogs.

It was about this time that Jack Whipple made an extraordinary and alarming discovery. He noticed one day that Remus was having some sort of trouble with his mouth, as though he had perhaps got a piece of bone wedged in his teeth. He worked his jaws in a laughable manner and poked at them with his paw. Then he shook his head, ejected a small white object, and appeared relieved.

Thinking it must be a piece of bone, Jack picked it up and examined it. It was a tooth! He called Ernest, and after poking about in Rome, they discovered another tooth in the sawdust beside the food dish. They proceeded to examine both dogs, and in Romulus's mouth they found another loose tooth which came out in Ernest's fingers.

"Why," cried Jack, "they're losing all their teeth. How will they eat? How can they do anything?"

Ernest was equally puzzled, and that evening they told their father about it. He also seemed perplexed.

"I'm afraid I can't help you," said he. "You'd better consult Tom Poultice or Sam Bumpus. Perhaps there's some disease that loosens dogs' teeth. Possibly it's the result of the distemper. I understand there are sometimes after-effects of that, such as deafness, and it may cause a dropping of the teeth. You'd better see about it before it goes any further."

The boys had been planning for some little time to take the two dogs up to Sam's shack, since they now seemed old and strong enough to stand the journey, and it would be good fun for all concerned. So Ernest sent Sam word that they were coming, and on a bright, warm Saturday morning the four of them set out.

The sky was clear and blue, a light breeze tempered the warmth of the brilliant sunshine, and it was a joy just to be alive and out in the open. The boys had their hands full, for Romulus and Remus had never before enjoyed so much liberty, and they did not always answer promptly the recalling whistle. The world, this great, new world, seemed to hold so many sights and sounds and scents to interest a dog that their impulse was to keep going and searching and never turn back. But it was a pleasure just to watch the zest with which they investigated every thicket and hillock. As they trotted along, twisting and doubling and turning, their noses held now high, sniffing the breeze, now close to the ground, they seemed to develop something of that lithe grace of movement that characterized the actions of their mother and old Nan.

When they arrived at their destination, the dogs were at first much excited by the presence of so many others of their kind, but after a little while they were glad to take a long drink of water and to rest on the floor of the shack.

Sam, as usual, was smiling and cordial. "They're comin' on; they're comin' on," said he, patting the young dogs and observing their sinewy limbs, their sensitive nostrils, and their soft, intelligent eyes. "Been teachin' 'em to hunt on the way up?"

The boys were forced to admit that they had made little progress with the vocational training of Romulus and Remus.

"Well, there's plenty of time for that," said Sam. "They've got to get the sense of the fields and the woods first. You get 'em so they'll come when they're called, and a little later on I'll have time to take 'em in hand and teach 'em the fine points of the game. How have they been, anyway? They're lookin' as sound as nuts."

"They've been very well," answered Ernest, "except for one thing. We don't know what's the trouble, but their teeth are dropping out."

"Their teeth – " began Sam, and then burst into a roar of laughter, in which the boys presently joined, though they did not know why.

"Don't you worry about them teeth," said he, when he could speak again. "I'll bet it wasn't so very long ago that Jack here had the very same trouble. Didn't you know that dogs lose their first teeth the same as boys do? Sure thing. Some folks are a good deal troubled about it and pull out the loose teeth for fear the dogs will swallow them, but it ain't likely to hurt 'em if they do. Just let 'em alone and nature will look out for 'em. New and stronger teeth will grow in their places and then they'll be fixed for life."

The boys, relieved to find that the matter was not serious, laughed again.

"I guess this joke's on father, too," said Ernest.

This trip to Sam's shack was the first of a number of excursions thither which Sam seemed to enjoy as much as the boys and the dogs. And when vacation time came and every day was like Saturday, Ernest and Jack Whipple came to understand better what it really means to have good dogs for constant companions. It was in these days that visits to the swimming hole over by the brickyard began, and Romulus and Remus were taught to enjoy the water as much as their masters did.

This swimming hole, in fact, proved to be the accepted meeting place for most of the boys and dogs of Boytown, for it became a regular practice for the boys to bring their dogs and to invent various aquatic sports in which the dogs played an important part. Old Mike hated the water and could scarcely be induced to go in, but most of the others entered into the spirit of the game with zest. Little Alert proved to be a regular cork in the water, and even huge Hamlet splashed about in a dignified sort of way. But the general favorite was Rags. He could dive for stones, retrieve sticks, and even stand up in the water, with his fore feet pawing the air in a manner to bring laughter to the soberest. And he had a way of devising sport of his own, not always respecting the sanctity of the boys' clothing.

I don't know how it is with other boys, but it is certain that the constant association with faithful four-footed comrades was good for the boys of Boytown. Boys are often thoughtless to an extent that verges upon cruelty. They love to tease and often find amusement in inventing new trials for a much-enduring cat or dog. But once let them get the idea of comradeship and protection firmly fixed, and not infrequently a sort of chivalry appears to develop in their natures.

At least it was so with these boys. They quarreled and disputed and occasionally fought, as boys will, but there was no more torturing of animals, and with this came less bullying of little boys and teasing of little girls. Each boy felt the responsibility of protecting his own beloved dog, and with this came a sense of protection toward all animals. Mrs. Hammond, Theron's mother, was wise enough to observe and take advantage of this, and she organized the boys into a sort of Humane Society, with meetings every two weeks, and a set of rules and objects. They were pledged to do what they could to see that no dumb animal was abused, and more than once they were able to dissuade a brutal teamster from beating an overburdened horse. In only one quarter did they totally fail. Dick Wheat on would neither join the Humane Society nor would he mend his ways in regard to his treatment of Gyp. But at least he never attempted to abuse any other animal whenever any of the boys were about, after having received a good licking at the hands of Jimmie Rogers for annoying Rags. That taught him a much needed lesson.

If every boy in America could be taught to be as kind to animals as these boys were, and to interest himself personally in their treatment, this would be a better world to live in.

So the summer vacation days passed, with plenty of outdoor fun, the boys forming an ever closer comradeship with their common interest, and Romulus and Remus gaining in strength and wisdom every day. For the most part they were healthy dogs and gave their masters little concern on that score, though sometimes their tendency to get into mischief required attention, for Mrs. Whipple was not reconciled to their presence about her house and it was necessary to keep watch lest they offend beyond the chance of pardon. The day they brought Delia to the verge of tears by tearing a clean sheet from the clothesline and clashing with it about a muddy yard would have produced a disastrous crisis if Mr. Whipple had not once more intervened.

Once or twice the two dogs had to be doctored again for worms, and in August came the pest of fleas. This was a source of annoyance to both boys and dogs, and Mrs. Whipple, when she found it out, was in constant fear lest the insects be introduced into the house. When Ernest or Jack discovered one on their own persons at night they left no stone unturned to capture and decapitate it.

As to the dogs, they suffered not a little. Their long coats made a splendid breeding place for the parasites and they wore themselves thin with scratching. Fleas are not a pleasant thing to talk about, but all dogs get them, especially the long-haired kinds, and not even frequent visits to the swimming hole will eradicate them.

It was Sam Bumpus who told the boys what to do about it. One day, when they went up to visit him, he refused to let Romulus and Remus into the shack or near his kennels.

"They're full of fleas," said he as he watched the dogs scratching nervously, "and I don't want 'em to be droppin' 'em around where my dogs'll get 'em. I have trouble enough with the varmints as 'tis. You ought to get rid of 'em. If you don't, they'll hang on till November and the dogs'll be no good for huntin'."

"But how do you get rid of them?" asked Ernest.

"Wash 'em in cresolin or cresoleum or whatever your druggist wants to call it. He'll know what you want when you tell him. Mix it with warm water and soapsuds and scrub 'em good. Then rub 'em dry. Do it outdoors on the grass. It's better than insect powder. It won't kill all the eggs, but it will drive the fleas off, and if you keep at it, and do it often enough, you'll get rid of 'em all. Besides, it gives the dogs some relief before the new ones can hatch. Better burn their beds once in awhile, too, to kill the eggs in 'em."

The boys faithfully followed Sam's instructions and were pleased to find the trouble greatly abated.

It was in August, too, that they took Romulus and Remus for their first trip to Willowdale. They were anxious to learn what Mr. and Mrs. Hartshorn and Tom Poultice would think of their dogs, and they were always glad of an excuse to visit the bull terriers and Airedales and to listen to doggy talk.

Luckily, Mr. Hartshorn was at home on this occasion, though they paid their respects first to Tom and the kennels before going up to the big house. Tom had not seen the two setters since they had recovered from the distemper, and he was pleased to be frankly enthusiastic.

"Well, I'll be blowed!" he exclaimed. "And are these the same two dogs that I doctored in your barn last spring? They were sad enough looking pictures then. The bally rascals! They sure 'ave grown some. Hi'd like nothing better than to take 'em out some day myself on a bit of an 'unt. Look at the legs of 'em! Say, you've got two fine bird dogs there."

Naturally the boys were much pleased by Tom's praise of their beloved dogs, and they lingered for a time about the kennels while Tom pointed out to them the fine points in a setter's action and explained how their graceful, level gait enabled them to keep their noses out in front where they would catch the scent, and at the same time cover rough country at high speed.

"Hi've 'eard it said," remarked Tom, "that an 'unting pointer can travel at the rate of eighteen miles an hour and keep it up for two or three hours, and I guess a good setter's about as fast."

"My!" exclaimed Jack, joyfully, as they walked over to the house, "do you s'pose we've got the two very best dogs in the world, Ernest?"

"I don't know," said Ernest. "Maybe."

The ardor was cooled a trifle by Mr. Hartshorn. He examined Romulus and Remus in a minute, judicial, critical manner, and discovered a number of technical points in which they fell short of perfection.

"But," he added, "they're mighty good dogs, and you must remember that no dog is absolutely perfect from the show judge's standpoint. And if these come from as fine a working strain as you have led me to believe, it is remarkable that they should measure up so well by bench-show standards. Some of the finest show champions are second-rate dogs in the field, and some of the best hunting and field-tried dogs couldn't win a yellow ribbon on the bench. I should say that your dogs gave promise of developing both working and show qualities to a marked degree, and I shall watch their careers with great interest. You have a brace of fine dogs there, and no mistake."

Whereat Jack and Ernest felt better.

"You promised to tell us something about setters and other bird dogs," Ernest reminded him.

"Well," said Mr. Hartshorn, "I'm not sure that I know so very much about them. I used to do a little shooting years ago, but your friend Bumpus undoubtedly knows a lot more about the game than I do."

"Oh, yes," said Ernest, "he does know a lot about hunting and training dogs, but I mean about the breeds themselves, their history and the sort of things you told us about some of the other breeds."

"Well," said Mr. Hartshorn, "I'll do the best I can. The development of the setter is an interesting story, but first we'll have to go back to the spaniels. Spaniels, you know, are still classed as shooting or gun dogs, and are used for that to some extent, and the setter's ancestor was a spaniel.

"The spaniel first came from Spain or France and there are still many kinds on the continent of Europe. But the spaniel has been known for a long time in England, too, and the kinds we know here are those of British development. Mrs. Hartshorn has already told you about the English toy spaniels, so I will omit those.

"In the early days, the breeds weren't divided up as they are to-day, but were known as large and small land spaniels and water spaniels. The oldest of the land spaniels of England now in existence is the Sussex spaniel. You won't see any in the United States, I think.

"The clumber spaniel you can see in our shows, but he also is more popular among the sportsmen and fanciers of England than here. He is the heaviest of the spaniels. The cocker spaniel is the most popular kind in this country. His name comes from the fact that he was used in England for many years for hunting woodcock. He is smaller than the others. The field spaniel is much like a large-sized cocker, weighing about twice as much. Finally there is the curly, brown Irish water spaniel, which is really more closely related to the retriever and the poodle than to the other spaniels.

"Though spaniels are sporting dogs, they have always been enjoyed quite as much for their companionship, and they have an enviable reputation for fidelity. There is a story told of a spaniel of the time of the French Revolution which reminds one of Greyfriars Bobby. This dog belonged to a magistrate who was condemned for conspiracy and was thrown into prison. By means of his coaxing and pretty ways, the spaniel at last won the heart of one of the jailers and managed to get in to his master. He never left him after that, even crouching between his knees when the magistrate was guillotined. He followed the body to its burial and tried to dig into the grave. Obliged at last to abandon hope of ever seeing his master again, he refused to eat, and died at length, of hunger and exposure, on his master's grave.

"Another sad story of devotion is that of a spaniel belonging to the gamekeeper of the Rev. Mr. Corseillis of Wivenhoe, Essex, England. This dog's name was Dash, and he was his master's constant companion at night, when he was able to render valuable service in helping to detect poachers. When the old gamekeeper died, nothing could persuade Dash to accompany his successor on his rounds. He divided his time between the grave and the room in which his master had died, and at last he, too, died of a broken heart.

"Let me give you a more cheerful one before we pass on to the setters. Once when Mrs. Grosvenor of Richmond went to visit a relative who owned some pet cats, she took her Blenheim spaniel with her. The cats, who were selfish, spoiled creatures, were too many for the small spaniel, and they succeeded in driving him out of the house. But he refused to acknowledge defeat. He proceeded to establish an alliance with the gardener's cat, a big, husky Tom, and when the time was ripe, the two of them attacked and routed their common enemy, after which the spaniel was let alone.

"Now we come to the setters. In some respects they are our finest gun dogs. They came from one of the old land spaniels that was taught to crouch when finding game and they were called setting spaniels until about 1800. Since then the breed has been greatly improved. There are three well-known varieties, English, Irish, and Gordon, all first-class dogs.

"A man named Laverack in Shropshire, England, was the one who did the most to develop the English setter. He bred them from 1825 to 1875 and produced the standard strain. Later a man named Llewellyn promoted the strain and added new blood. You will still hear the names Laverack and Llewellyn applied to different types of English setters. This English variety is the most popular and numerous of the three.

"I don't want to make any unpleasant comparisons, but to my mind the Irish setter is the handsomest of the family, though as a sporting dog he does not rank with the English setter. His shape is very nearly the same as that of the English setter, but his coat is always a wonderful red-brown, almost golden when the sun shines on it, often very dark, but with no black spots.

"The Gordon setter is the heaviest of the three and comes from a strain developed a century ago by the Duke of Richmond Gordon, a Scotchman. The color is always rich black and tan.

"These are not the only bird dogs, however. There are the retrievers and the pointer, besides some European breeds, but I'm going to save them for another time. I've got to get ready to catch a train now, and besides, I'm afraid of giving you this sort of information in too large a chunk."

Mr. Hartshorn bade them good-by and went upstairs. The boys remained a few minutes longer with Mrs. Hartshorn, who had taken a great fancy to Romulus and Remus, and then they set off for home in the hot sun of the afternoon.

CHAPTER IX
THE TRAINING OF ROMULUS

On the way back from Thornboro that day something happened that gave a new direction to the thoughts and aspirations of Ernest and Jack Whipple. They had gone somewhat out of their way to a woods road that was shadier and cooler than the highway and Romulus was nosing and sniffing about in the underbrush quite a little distance to the left. Ernest whistled, but Romulus apparently did not hear. He seemed to be darting 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 spot where Romulus was hunting. Suddenly there was a whir of wings and a dark object flashed upward and disappeared among the trees.

For a moment Romulus and Remus both stood rigid, with heads and tails outstretched. Then they broke and disappeared in the woods. It was some little time before the boys could get them back again and started 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 in the books."

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

"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 the wonderful achievements that were in store for the two dogs.

Mr. Whipple approved the plan to have Romulus and Remus trained. A good dog, in his eyes, was a dog that was good for something, and he recognized the value of a well-trained bird dog though he had no desire 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 mother doesn'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 after the reopening of school, they took the dogs up to Sam's shack.

"Remember," said Sam, "I ain't promisin' anything. You never can tell what 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'll do the best I can, and you mustn't be impatient if they ain't all finished off in two weeks. Now we'll take 'em out for their first lesson."

That first lesson proved to be a rather tedious affair to Ernest and Jack. 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 as well as they obeyed those of the boys, and the latter were forced to keep silent while he gradually gained the mastery over the two lively young dogs. Sam displayed, in this, much greater patience than the boys did, but still it was pleasant to be out in the fields this fine September day and to watch the dogs as they came to respond more and more readily to the commands of their trainer. At first, indeed, there was but one command, expressed by a sharp whistle or by the words "Come here, boy!" Sam seemed determined to add no further commands until he had secured unfailing and prompt obedience to this one. But, slow as the process was, it was really remarkable what progress was made in a few short hours.

At noon they took the dogs back to the shack to enjoy a rest and a dry bone apiece, while Sam cooked and served a delicious luncheon of buckwheat cakes, bacon, and cocoa. Then, after he had enjoyed a pipe or 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 get used to the feel of it first. They've got to learn to stand it without pullin', and to answer the signals."

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

"Well, as the minister says, here endeth the first lesson," said Sam when the shadows of late afternoon began to lengthen, and they turned back again toward the shack. The boys now realized that they were 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 high spirited, as good dogs ought to be, and a bit heady, but they'll learn. They've done very well, so far."

Still doubting, but somewhat encouraged, the boys prepared to take their departure. In order that the training might go on uninterrupted it was necessary to leave Romulus and Remus in Sam's care, and it is a question which felt the worse about the separation, the boys or the dogs. Ernest and Jack knew that their pets would be in good hands and kindly treated, but it was hard to say good-by. As for the dogs, they set 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 an interest in the other dogs pretty soon, and then they'll feel more at home."

Thus reassured, the boys started off down the road without their four-footed comrades, but the insistent wails that followed them were very 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 their playmates.

They could hardly wait for the next Saturday to come, when they could go up again to Sam's shack and visit their beloved dogs. Romulus and Remus were overjoyed at seeing them again, and it was some time before Sam could get them quieted down sufficiently to take them out for another lesson. He had been training them during the week, and the boys now heard him addressing them with strange words. He placed their check-cords on again, and this time the dogs did not seem to resent it so much. Indeed, they seemed to look upon it as the preliminary of a good time, which, as Sam explained, was the idea he had tried to impress 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 the dogs, hoping for a good run, did not obey so readily. A quick tug at the check-cord reminded them of the meaning of the command, and soon they stopped more promptly at the words.

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

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

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

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

And improve they did. In the afternoon Sam took them out without the check-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 c of it first. Next I shall try to teach them to answer my hand. First I'll call and wave at the same time, and then just wave. Then they've got to learn to range – to go whichever direction I want 'em to and turn when I want 'em to. Then I'll give 'em lessons in retrievin'."

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

Ernest and Jack had duties to perform that Saturday which engaged them the entire morning, and they were unable to go up to Sam's until afternoon. Their visit was consequently a short one and they had but little time to spend with Sam in the field. They found, however, that the training had been progressing satisfactorily. Sam was allowing the dogs to range in ever widening circles, and on the whole they were obeying his commands in a promising manner. They were beginning to retrieve objects, also, not as a hit-or-miss game after the manner of Rags, 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 take an interest in their occupations and to become acquainted with the other dogs. They seemed to understand, too, that Ernest and Jack had not utterly deserted them but might be expected to appear at almost any 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 and looking 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 Remus back. I've given him every chance and I find he's hopeless as a bird dog. He learns quick enough – quicker than Romulus if anything. But he's got no nose, none at all, and a setter with no nose is about useless in the field. It would be a waste of time to try to train him, and when we got on the birds he would only get in Romulus's way and spoil him. So I guess you'll have to take him back and let me go ahead with the good one."

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

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

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

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

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

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