BOYTOWN DOG SHOW!Morton's Barn, Henry Street.Wednesday, April 12.9 A.M. to 5 P.M.Come and see the finest dogs in Boytown. 26 dogs—21 breeds. First, second, and third prizes will be awarded to the best dogs. Mr. Merton Hartshorn, proprietor of the famous Willowdale Kennels, will act as judge. Judging will begin at 2.30 P.M. Prizes will be awarded at 4 P.M.Admission, 25 cents.The proceeds will be given to theRed Cross.
BOYTOWN DOG SHOW!
Morton's Barn, Henry Street.
Wednesday, April 12.
9 A.M. to 5 P.M.
Come and see the finest dogs in Boytown. 26 dogs—21 breeds. First, second, and third prizes will be awarded to the best dogs. Mr. Merton Hartshorn, proprietor of the famous Willowdale Kennels, will act as judge. Judging will begin at 2.30 P.M. Prizes will be awarded at 4 P.M.
Admission, 25 cents.
The proceeds will be given to theRed Cross.
The question of Dick Wheaton gave the boys a little trouble. They didn't like Dick, he was not a member of the Humane Society, and some of the boys thought he ought to be barred out because of his well-known disposition to be unkind to animals. Besides, he had been openly making fun of the whole proceeding. Being divided in the matter, they sought Mrs. Hammond's advice.
"I should let him enter Gyp if he will," said she. "It can't do you any harm, and it may help to get Dick a little more interested in dogs and in the Humane Society. Besides, it isn't Dick that's going tobe benched, but Gyp, and you haven't anything against Gyp."
Put in that way, it did seem unfair to bar out an unoffending dog, who deserved nothing but sympathy, just because his master was not popular. So Gyp became one of the twenty-six. Mr. Hartshorn refused to consider bringing down any of his dogs, and the boys were rather glad of that, for it would hardly be a fair competition if the ordinary dogs of Boytown were obliged to compete with the winners of Willowdale. It was too much like introducing professionals into an amateur contest.
"Besides," said Mr. Hartshorn, "it would be highly improper for a judge to have to judge his own dogs. It isn't done, you know."
So that matter was satisfactorily settled. Mrs. Hartshorn was invited to enter her toys, but she declined on the ground that this was a Boytown show and they were Thornboro dogs. As for Sam Bumpus, he said that a shoemaker had best stick to his last, and that a trainer of gun dogs had no business to be mixing up with bench shows.
Meanwhile, the original committee had been busy getting the show hall into shape. Enough boards were obtained from here, there, and everywhere to make two long benches, one along each side of the barn, stoutly built and standing about two feet from thefloor. These were divided off by partitions into enough stalls to accommodate all the dogs entered, and a coat of whitewash made the whole look clean and neat.
At the inner end of the barn the amateur carpenters erected a ring of posts, connected by a rope. This was where the judging was to take place. Finally, a cashier's booth was made out of a large dry-goods box and placed at the entrance, and Theron Hammond was elected to stand there and receive the admission fees, as he was the treasurer of the Humane Society. Frank Stoddard, who had no dog to show, but who was as much interested as any of them, was appointed to purchase tins for drinking water and to keep them filled during the show.
The last thing they placed cedar shavings from the planing mill in each of the stalls, arranged hooks to fasten the leashes to, and tacked to the wall above each place a card bearing the name, breed, and owner of the dog that was to occupy it. So far as possible, they arranged the dogs in accordance with their size. When it came to Rags's card, they were a bit puzzled, for Mr. Hartshorn had told them that Rags didn't belong to any recognized breed. But it didn't seem fair to Rags to leave the space blank, so they invented a name for his breed—wire-haired American terrier.
On the morning of the great show Jack Whipple awoke early and jumped out of bed.
"Ernest!" he cried, and there was gloom in his voice.
"What is it?" asked Ernest, sleepily.
"It's raining," said Jack.
"Oh, dear!" groaned Ernest.
But they hurried through their breakfast, nevertheless, and taking Romulus and Remus they hastened down to Morton's barn. They found that the other members of the society were equally unafraid of a little rain, but they were all a bit depressed. The prospect for a successful show did not seem very bright. However, since all the arrangements had been made, the boys decided that the only thing to do was to go ahead. Other exhibitors arrived, some of them planning to spend the day with their pets, but it was ten o'clock before Theron Hammond took in a single admission fee. Furthermore, Mrs. Peabody and one or two other timid exhibitors had failed to put in an appearance, and special messengers had to be despatched to fetch them.
It was just as well, perhaps, that the boys had this extra time to put on the finishing touches, for the dogs were not used to this sort of confinement and made a good deal of trouble before they could be quieted. Then a special shelf had to be built for the displayof the prizes. The boys were so busy, in fact, that they hardly noticed that the rain had ceased. About eleven o'clock Theron gave a glad cry.
"The sun's coming out," he announced. "And here comes a gang of people."
From that time on the spectators arrived in a steady stream, until the barn became quite crowded and the dogs were much excited. The members of the society acted as ushers and entertained their visitors with more or less learned lectures on the different breeds. And for the most part the spectators appeared to be hugely pleased with the whole performance, boys and dogs included.
But the center of attraction turned out to be a dog that everyone knew didn't stand a show for even third prize. It was comical old Rags. He seemed to be enjoying the show more than anybody else in the place and to feel that the Red Cross needed his services as an entertainer. He was ready with uplifted paw to greet every visitor that stopped in front of his bench and he never failed to bring a smile to the face of the least interested. You couldn't see Rags without loving him, his eyes were so merry, his smile so broad and warm, his crooked ears so absurdly fascinating. He got as much patting and petting that day as some dogs get in a lifetime, and it seemed to him, at least, that a dog show was a most excellentkind of institution. Some of the dogs didn't take to it in so kindly a manner. Mr. O'Brien, in fact, became quite ill tempered before the day was over.
To say that Jimmie Rogers was pleased is not overstating the truth. He was prouder of Rags than if he had won all the silver cups in Christendom, and he kept busy most of the day putting Rags through his many tricks.
The boys went home to dinner in relays, and by two o'clock the crowd was even larger. They were curious to see what the judging would be like. Mr. and Mrs. Hartshorn and Tom Poultice arrived in the automobile, and after they had inspected the dogs, many of whom knew them, Mr. Hartshorn announced that the judging would begin.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said he. "If you will kindly give me your attention, and if Monty Hubbard will be good enough to sit on Mr. O'Brien's head, I will explain the manner in which the judging will be conducted. When I call out the names, the owners will please bring their dogs to the ring. I will inspect them in groups of five. I will make a note of the best dogs in these groups, and will then ask to see some of them a second time in order to determine for certain which are, in my judgment, the best dogs."
Beginning with Hamlet, he called for the first five dogs in the row, and proceeded thus until, in the lastgroup, six were judged. He went at it in a businesslike manner, examining each dog carefully, and making jottings in a notebook. When asked about his basis for judging the dogs, he promised to explain that when he announced the winners. Each owner held his or her own dog in the ring, making him walk past the judge when so requested, and it all went smoothly until the third group came to be judged. Then, before anyone knew what had happened, the overwrought Mr. O'Brien had made an angry lunge at Li Hung Chang, and there was something doing in the show ring. The chow was not lacking in courage and returned the attack, while the other three dogs struggled vainly to mix in. Some of the ladies in the audience screamed, and it required the combined efforts of Mr. Hartshorn, Mr. Morton, Tom Poultice, and Monty Hubbard to separate the antagonists and straighten things out again. Mr. O'Brien was unsatisfied and snarled ominously, but it made him look all the more spirited during the judging. After that there were no untoward events to mar the occasion.
By the time Mr. Hartshorn had had some of the dogs up a second and even a third time it was nearly four o'clock, the hour set for announcing the winners. The place was crowded now, and not a little speculation was heard as to the judge's probable decisions. Among the boys, at least, this interest in the outcomeamounted to tense excitement, in which some of the grown-ups were not ashamed to share.
At length Mr. Hartshorn came to the rope and addressed the gathering.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said he: "you are all waiting, I know, to learn the names of the winning dogs, but first I think I ought to offer a few words of explanation. Let me say that we have some very good dogs here to-day. They might not measure up to the standard set in the big shows, but they are very good representatives of the various breeds. Since it is necessary to compare dogs of different breeds instead of dogs of the same breed in judging, it is not altogether easy to reach a decision on comparative merits. I can only rely upon my best judgment and will ask you to be indulgent with me in case you do not agree with my choice.
"In judging dogs at a show, we do not take into consideration the personal character or intelligence of a dog, but chiefly his physical characteristics. He must not appear stupid, and he must show the qualities of character attributed to his breed. A sleepy terrier, for instance, cannot win in a show. Beyond that, however, it is a matter of what is called type. Authorities have carefully gone over the points that are typical of each breed and have written them out in what are called the standards. Winning dogs mustconform very largely to the type described in the standard, and the more of the established points he can show in perfect form, the higher will be his score in selecting his position among the winners. I cannot take your time to describe all these points in each case, but simply state that my judging is on that basis.
"It is an arbitrary method, I grant you, and there are good people who protest against judging dogs in accordance with their physical features, not taking into account the qualities of heart and brain that we really care for in a dog. But that is the fancier's way of getting at it. If we did not have arbitrary and approved standards to work toward in breeding, every breeder would work out his own personal ideas, and we would have a strange assortment of sizes and shapes and no predominant type in any breed. It is the work of the fanciers that has produced the marked differences between the breeds and that keeps them from degenerating into a sorry lot of mixed mongrels, until we should not be able to tell a collie from a St. Bernard.
"I trust that this brief explanation will give you an idea of the basis of my judgment in this show. I have given the preference not to the wisest and most capable and most affectionate dogs, but to those that most nearly approach the approved standards of their breeds. I will now ask to have the following dogsbrought to the ring: Mr. Sanderson's German shepherd dog, Rupert of Hentzau; Mrs. Peabody's Pekingese spaniel, Chi Yen; Herbert Pierson's Great Dane, Hamlet; Harry Barton's English bulldog, Mike; Montague Hubbard's Irish terrier, Mr. O'Brien (keep him on a short leash, Monty); Jack Whipple's English setter, Remus."
All of these dogs have been previously mentioned except Rupert. Both he and his master were newcomers in Boytown, and the big, strong, active dog, with his wolfish look, his erect ears, and his brave, bright eyes, had attracted a good deal of attention at the show. When the six dogs had been brought again into the ring, Mr. Hartshorn continued his discourse.
"I believe," said he, "that all of these dogs should receive honorable mention, or, as we call it at the shows, the V. H. C.—very highly commended. They all possess points of excellence, but all fall short in some particulars. Rupert of Hentzau looks like a perfect dog, but if you were to compare him with the best of his breed you would see that he is a little too short in the head, too flat-sided, and too leggy. Chi Yen measures up pretty well, but she hasn't a good color and her coat isn't quite as profuse as it should be. Hamlet's feet and ankles are bad. This is often the case with big dogs that grew fast when they were puppies. Their bones do not strengthen fast enoughto bear their increasing weight, and the result is apt to be flat feet, turning out, and bent ankles. Hamlet is a bit thin, too, but is otherwise a good Dane. In the English bulldog classes, the preference is generally given to the extreme types. A dog with wider elbows, deeper chest, and a heavier jaw would beat Mike easily. Mr. O'Brien has Irish terrier character a-plenty, but he is a bit too large and coarse, as the expression is, and his coat is too long and soft and too light in color. Remus will make a fine dog some day, I believe, but he has had hard luck thus far and he hasn't grown up quite evenly. He needs strengthening in the shoulders and he is out of coat. His tail is a bit stringy. With proper care, I believe these defects can be obviated. I take pleasure in conferring the V. H. C. on these six dogs."
They were led out of the ring amid the applause of the spectators, which somewhat softened the disappointment of their owners in not taking prizes. When Mr. Hartshorn called for the three dogs that were to receive the honors of the show, the applause increased. In answer to their names, Theron Hammond, Ernest Whipple, and Dick Wheaton brought their dogs proudly to the ring. Mr. Hartshorn took the handsome silver cup from its shelf and held it up where all might see.
"It gives me great pleasure," he announced, "toconfer the first prize upon Alert, Boston terrier, owned by Theron Hammond."
Theron stepped forward, blushing violently and smiling broadly, and took the trophy from the hands of the judge. Then he stooped down impulsively and picked Alert up, hugging him in his arms, to which demonstration Alert replied by gently chewing his master's ear. When the hand-clapping had died down, Mr. Hartshorn continued:
"I will not spoil this triumph by pointing out Alert's defects. He would very likely meet his superiors in one of the big shows, for the Boston terrier entries are always very large, but I don't think he would be entirely out of the running in a novice class. I understand he is a registered and pedigreed dog, and he certainly shows evidences of good breeding. In my judgment he comes closer to his breed's standard than any other dog in this show.
"The second prize, this handsome dog collar, is won by Romulus, English setter, owned by Ernest Whipple. He is a litter brother of Remus, but he is better developed and has a better coat. He is a first-class specimen of the Llewellyn type, and though there are a few points in which he falls below the strict bench-show standard, he is a splendid setter.
"The third prize, which will perhaps be better appreciated by its recipient than any of the others, is abox of dog biscuit. I hope, however, that it will not form his sole diet, as he is doubtless accustomed to a more varied and palatable menu. This prize is won by Gypsie, smooth fox terrier, owned by Richard Wheaton. Gyp is a little off type in some respects, but I have decided that, according to my score of points, he is the third best dog in the show."
Boston Terrier
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 hisor 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 assured 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 Dick 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 ownership 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 asserted 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 cashier'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 mufflers 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 hadbeen 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.
Spring came, and with it more training for Romulus, until Sam pronounced 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," asserted 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.
"Gee, I wish we could all go camping out this summer," said Ernest Whipple. "It would be great fun to take the dogs along."
"Well, why can't we?" inquired Jimmie.
Many of the boys held inwardly a well-founded notion that there would be serious parental objections to a plan of this kind, but their ready imaginations caught fire at the idea and they were soon in the midst of a lively discussion of plans that gradually settled down from the wild and fantastic to the faintly feasible. When they separated that afternoon it was with the hopeful belief that they were going to organize a camping expedition.
The expected parental opposition developed promptly and decidedly, but when a dozen American boys gettheir hearts set on anything short of discovering the North Pole something is sure to happen. They did not quickly abandon their rosy project and they set about conquering the opposition by means of a determined siege.
The chief point of objection, of course, which indeed appeared insurmountable, was the natural belief on the part of parents that it would not be safe or wise to let their boys leave home and go camping out without the guardianship of some older person. No arguments could be invented to prevail against this. But help came from an unexpected quarter.
Theron Hammond's older brother, Alfred, a student at Yale and a steady, reliable sort of fellow, was spending his summer at home and was finding Boytown a bit dull after the activities of Junior year at college. One evening, when Theron had broached the subject for the fortieth time and his father had once more given a firm refusal, Alfred put in his oar.
"Aw, father," said he, "let him go and give us a little peace in the house. It won't hurt him."
"But, Alfred," said his father, "you know very well it would never do to let those boys go off alone. None of the parents would permit it."
"Suppose Horace and I went with them," suggested Alfred. Horace Ames was a classmate of Alfred'swho was also languishing in summer idleness in Boytown.
That put another face on the matter entirely. It must not be supposed that the victory was won at once, however. It required two weeks more of the siege to win capitulation all along the line. But the boys conquered at last. They liked and admired the college students and accepted their alliance with enthusiastic acclaim. Alfred talked it over with his chum, and the more they discussed it the more they felt that the conducting of this boy-and-dog camp would be great fun. Horace had brought home with him from New Haven the ugliest-looking and gentlest-tempered bulldog ever seen in the streets of Boytown. His name was Eli and Horace vowed he would give Eli the pleasure of camping out with the other dogs of Boytown. Eli was in training as a football mascot, and Horace asserted that a summer experience of this sort was just what he needed.
As their interest in the project grew, Alfred and Horace decided to take an active part in the campaign, and they called personally on every one of the doubting parents. Little by little they won them over until at last the success of the plan was assured. Mrs. Whipple was the last to give way, but Mr. Whipple had already been enlisted in the cause and he proved, as ever, a loyal advocate.
"You must remember, mother," said he, "that Jack is eleven years old now."
"Yes," said she, dubiously. In her eyes Jack was still a rosy-cheeked baby.
"It is never too soon for boys to gain self-reliance," said Mr. Whipple. "This camp will do Jack a lot of good, and Ernest, too. They'll have to hold their own on a common footing with the other boys, which is what they must do in later life. And Alfred and Horace are as reliable and trustworthy a pair of young fellows as I know. They won't let anything happen to our boys."
So at last even Mrs. Whipple granted a reluctant consent, and fourteen boys, besides the two older ones, were at last enrolled as members of the expedition. At first it had been understood that the camp was to include only members of the Humane Society, and would be a sort of club outing, but Mrs. Hammond suggested that the invitation be extended to include also any boy in town who owned a dog, on the ground that this might serve to recruit new members for the society. Alfred seconded this.
"The more the merrier," said he.
So the invitation was sent abroad and had already been accepted in two cases when the troublesome question of Dick Wheaton again arose. The boys didn't want Dick at the camp, and Dick evinced no interestin the project, but the bars had been let down and there seemed to be no good excuse for not admitting Dick. Mrs. Hammond advised them to invite him, but before they had done so, the matter was taken out of their hands; the difficulty was solved for them.
One night Gyp, tired of his ill treatment, heartbroken, hopeless of ever being able to win his master's true affection, and doubtless seeking a happier home, ran away and was never again seen in Boytown. So Dick, since he no longer owned a dog, was automatically eliminated, much to the relief of those who did not want him. It seemed a just retribution that he should lose the creature that loved him so, but it is doubtful if Dick cared very much.
"I only hope," said Mrs. Hammond, when she was told about it, "that this will teach Dick a lesson and that poor Gyp will find a good master and pass the rest of his days in peace and happiness. He is a dear, loving little dog, and he deserves it."
Including Eli, there were fourteen dogs in the party, which was more than had at first been counted on, for not all the members of the Humane Society were dog owners, though the outsiders all had to be. It happened in this way: Frank Stoddard had long been pleading with his parents to be allowed to have a dog, and at last they surrendered and gave him one on hisbirthday. Mr. Stoddard believed in doing nothing by halves and so he purchased a really fine young collie, sable and white, named MacTavish, and usually called Mac for short. So Frank had a canine companion for the camp and his cup of joy was full.
And there was still another new dog in town. Elliot Garfield's uncle, who knew of the boy's earnest desire to own a dog, sent him early in August an Old English sheepdog. The uncle wrote that he was going to travel a bit, and that if Elliot would guarantee to give his dog a good home, he might have him for his own. You may believe that Elliot was not slow in agreeing to that proposition. It was a pedigreed dog, named Darley's Launcelot of Middlesex. That was a name no one could be expected to use in calling a dog, and even Launcelot seemed a bit strange. So Elliot, who possibly lacked originality, rechristened him Rover.
Most of the residents of Boytown had never seen an Old English sheepdog before, and Rover attracted not a little attention on the street. Some people even laughed at his big round head, with hair over his eyes, and his shambling gait and lack of a tail, but they soon got used to him and came to admire his wonderful gray and white coat. And Rover turned out to be one of the jolliest dog companions in Boytown. He loved the water, and when he got his coat thoroughlywet he seemed to shrink to half his normal size. He was really not much bigger than Romulus, but when his hair was dry and all fluffed out he looked as big as a Newfoundland.
With Rover and Mac added to the party, it began to look like a pretty big affair, as indeed it was. Alfred and Horace entered into the spirit of the thing with zest and arranged for the tents and general equipment. They had both been camping in the Adirondacks, and they knew just what was needed. So they drew up a list of the things each boy must provide for himself—warm blankets, a bag to be stuffed with sweet fern for a pillow, mosquito netting, and an aluminum plate, bowl, and cup for each boy, a dish for his dog, knives, forks, spoons, etc., besides the requisite clothing and toilet articles. It was all done very systematically.
There was one thing that bothered Alfred and Horace, and that was the cooking. They ordered a store of supplies, the boys having all contributed to a fund for that purpose, but that did not solve the problem of three meals a day. The boys had been inclined to pass over this detail somewhat lightly, but Alfred and Horace knew from experience that feeding a dozen hungry boys was no joke, and they didn't intend to have their vacation spoiled by the necessity of turning to themselves and doing all the work.
One day Mr. Morton stopped Alfred Hammond on the street and asked him how the plans for the camp were progressing.
"Everything is going finely," said Alfred, "except for two things. We shall have to postpone our start for a day or two because the tents haven't come yet. Then there's the question of the cooking. I'm blessed if I know how that gang of youngsters is going to be fed."
Mr. Morton stood and thought a moment.
"Maybe I can help you out," he said at length. "I'm just starting off on a little vacation myself, and I've been wondering what I'd do with Moses." (Moses was Mr. Morton's colored man-about-the-place.) "I haven't enough to keep him busy during my absence and it wouldn't do for him to fall into habits of idleness. How would you like to take Moses along with you, and guarantee to keep him out of mischief? He was once an assistant chef or something in a summer hotel, and I believe he's a first-rate cook. His services would cost you nothing, because I have to keep up his wages anyway. I'd be mighty glad to know that he was being kept busy."
"Say, that's mighty white of you, Mr. Morton," said Alfred. "Moses for ours. He's just what we need."
So that matter was settled. Mr. Morton explainedto Moses just what was required of him, and Moses became a not unwilling member of the party.
The tents, which had been ordered from New York, came at last. There were two of them, good-sized ones, each capable of accommodating seven of the younger boys and one of the older ones. Horace Ames had a small tent of his own which would serve for Moses. On the appointed day the boys congregated at the Whipples' stable, each bringing his personal equipment strapped up in his blanket. The camp site that had been chosen was at Mallard Lake, about nine miles from Boytown, and two wagons with drivers had been engaged to convey the outfit.
Presently one of these wagons appeared, containing Moses, Alfred, Horace, the tents, a stack of old lumber, a box of cooking utensils, and a second-hand kitchen range, besides a number of boxes containing provisions. When the boys had heaved their personal belongings aboard it made a big load. Then the human part of the expedition loaded itself into the second wagon, with much laughter and skylarking, and the party was ready to start. The dogs were allowed to run alongside, and a lively pack they were. Mrs. Whipple, with a look of anxiety still on her face, came to the gate to wave good-by.
They arrived at Mallard Lake about noon, and after unloading and sending back the wagons, they sat downto partake of the picnic lunch that each had brought with him. Then came the task of pitching camp. It was no small thing to accomplish before dark, but there were many hands to engage in it and efficient leadership.
The camp was located in some pine woods that ran down close to the shore of the lake. On the other side of a little cape was a sandy beach that looked like a good swimming place. Across the lake there were two or three farmhouses, where the leaders had arranged for supplies of milk, eggs, butter, bread, and baked beans. All the available floating craft on the lake had been hired, and three rowboats and a canoe lay drawn up on the bank. A little way back in the woods was a spring of clear, pure, cold water for drinking purposes, and a pool where the milk and butter could be kept fresh.
The leaders told the boys, however, that they would have to wait another day before indulging in an exploration of the surroundings of the camp. There was much to be done before night, and all must get to work. The two tents were pitched on a little rise of ground back from the water, and each boy was set to work gathering balsam boughs for his bed. These were strewn a foot thick on the ground inside the tents and the blankets were spread upon them, each boy being assigned his place. They also stuffed theirpillows with balsam, waiting till another day to gather the fragrant sweet ferns in a near-by pasture. Each boy also cut stakes and drove them into the ground about his bed to hold his mosquito netting. Ropes were strung overhead to hold clothing, and there were two lanterns for each tent.
Moses, meantime, had pitched his own tent and made his own bed, and now they all turned to to help him knock together a rough shack to serve as cook house and pantry. Then a long dining table and benches were built and a frame erected over them on which was spread an old awning. The range was set up in the cook house, the provisions were stored away, firewood was cut, and Moses started preparations for supper. Soon a fragrant smoke was issuing from the stovepipe, which before long was mingled with the smell of frying bacon and other things cooking that made every boy acutely aware of his appetite. Still Alfred and Horace kept them at work, cleaning up around camp, laying a stone foundation for a campfire, and erecting a lean-to shelter for the dogs in stormy weather, for it was voted not to allow the dogs to come into the tents.
Moses made good his reputation as a cook, and a prodigious amount of provender disappeared at supper that night. The boys were in high spirits and so were the dogs. The latter, not yet accustomed to their newsurroundings, and not realizing that they were to stay there, were restless and excitable and gave some trouble, but they were at last persuaded to quiet down. It was decided to tie them to the lean-to for a few nights until they should learn the rules and regulations.
After supper, while the boys were gathering brushwood for a campfire, Jimmie Rogers hoisted the camp ensign, which created a roar of laughter. I must explain about this ensign and the name of the camp.
Some time before they had discussed the subject of naming the camp, but could agree on nothing. Mrs. Hammond had suggested Camp B. H. S., the letters being the initials of the Boytown Humane Society. This did not fully please the popular fancy, and yet they did not like to discard Mrs. Hammond's suggestion. They began trying to find a word or words in some way made up of B. H. S. Alfred Hammond suggested Camp Beeches. That sounded something like B. H. S., he said, and they would very likely find beech trees about the camp. They adopted this name for want of a better one, until Jimmie, in a moment of inspiration, changed it to Camp Breeches. This name really had no very deep meaning, but somehow it tickled the boys and it stuck, being still further revised in process of use to Camp Britches. The ensign which Jimmie tied to a sapling in front of the camp was an old pair of boy's trousers.
It would require a whole book to tell of all the episodes that went to make up the life of Camp Britches during the next week, of the fishing and swimming, the exploring expeditions and berrying parties, of how the boys built a landing wharf for the boats and a diving raft, and how they divided up the routine duties of the camp. Some of these episodes were glorious fun; some were not so pleasant; taken all together they made up a memorable experience. Moses proved to be a master at making griddle cakes and other good things, and once or twice a boy ate not wisely but too well, and required the attention of the camp physician, Horace Ames. But for the most part they were healthy and happy, and incidentally they learned many things about looking out for themselves.
One night a thunderstorm broke, a veritable cloudburst, and the boys had to put on their bathing trunks and go out and dig deeper trenches around the tents to keep the water from running in and soaking everything. On another occasion a high wind blew one of the tents down on its sleeping inmates, causing more fright than damage.
Perhaps the best part of it all was the evening campfire. By that time the boys were physically sufficiently weary to enjoy resting, and, the pangs of hunger being well satisfied through the ministrations of Moses, theywould light their pile of brushwood and lie about it, wrapped in blankets on the cool nights, and watch the flames and fondle their dogs, and gossip drowsily. Sometimes there was story telling, at which Albert Hammond was an artist. And one afternoon Sam Bumpus came by special invitation, walking all the way from his shack, and that evening they had stirring tales of moose and deer hunting in Maine.
Then, of course, there were always the dogs. Sometimes it seemed as though there were too many of them, and it was necessary to make each boy strictly accountable for the actions of his own. Mr. O'Brien was a constant source of trouble and unrest, and there were times when it almost seemed as though they would have to send him home. Still, everybody liked Mr. O'Brien, after all. Wicked as he was, he was as smart as a whip and he had a way of worming into your affections in spite of you. Romulus and Remus had to be watched because of a tendency to go roaming off together on hunting expeditions of their own. Rags was, as ever, a general favorite and heaps of fun, and Rover, the Old English sheepdog, proved to be almost as playful and humorous. He was wonderfully active for a dog who appeared to be so clumsy. He could hold his own in a scrap, too, as Mr. O'Brien learned to his sorrow. In aquatic sports, Rover shone.
Speaking of the dogs, there came a night when one of them nearly upset the entire camp. It was the handsome collie, MacTavish. He strayed away from camp in the evening and managed to get into trouble with a little animal that is sometimes found in the woods whose method of defense is peculiar. It was a black and white skunk. MacTavish returned, very unhappy, just as the boys were getting to sleep. Seeking help and consolation in his distress, he entered the tent where his master lay. In less time than it takes to tell it every inmate of that tent was out in the open air. Moses and Horace took the collie down to the lake, washed him as thoroughly as they could with strong tar soap, and then tied him out in the woods where the poor unfortunate's howls disturbed the camp's rest all night. They could not send him home, and it was two or three days before he was entirely fit for human companionship again.
Camp Britches was pitched on a Wednesday, and the first week flew by on winged feet. On the second Saturday an event occurred which the boys had been looking forward to with anticipation. Mr. Hartshorn came in his car to spend Sunday at the camp. He brought none of his dogs with him, which was a source of regret, but he was a most welcome visitor, nevertheless.
The boys feared that the appointments of their camp might not be quite elegant enough for a man like Mr. Hartshorn, but he fitted in as though he had been brought up to just that sort of thing and said it was all bully. Frank Stoddard moved out and crowded into the other tent, and a special bed was laid for the visitor. Moses outdid himself in planning his Sunday menu.
Mr. Hartshorn arrived too late to be shown about the lake that day, but supper was a jolly meal and a new interest was added to the campfire hour that night.
Mr. Hartshorn had shown considerable interest in MacTavish and Rover, both of whom he pronouncedto be fine dogs, and this led to a general discussion of sheepdogs and their kin.
"I wish you'd tell us something about bob-tails, Mr. Hartshorn," said Elliot Garfield. "I really don't know a thing about them, and I ought to, now I've got one."
"Please do," echoed Ernest Whipple. "You promised you'd tell us about the shepherd breeds sometime."
"Well," said Mr. Hartshorn, laughing, "it's pretty near bedtime, anyway, so if I put you to sleep it won't much matter. For my own part, though, I'd rather listen to another of Alfred's stories."
The night was chilly, so he went to his car and got his auto robe, wrapped himself up in it, lighted a cigar, and settled himself comfortably beside the campfire.
"You may have noticed," he began, "that some breeds of dogs seem to possess more individual character than others. Foxhounds, for example, seem to me a good deal alike. That is because they live and work mostly in packs. It is the constant association of a single dog with his master that develops the traits of personality in him. No dogs have had this personality more highly developed than the shepherd breeds, for they have been the shepherds' personal companions, often their only companions, for generations.They are, therefore, most interesting dogs to know and to talk about.
"Of these shepherd breeds the best known is the collie. It is, in fact, one of the most popular and numerous of all the breeds. The modern collie, of which Mac here is a good example, has been developed for beauty, as a show dog and companion rather than a working dog, but he is a direct descendant of the old working collie of the Scottish Highlands, which has been a distinct breed and has been used as a shepherd's dog for centuries. The old working collie or shepherd dog, which is still numerous in Scotland, is a splendid utility animal of great intelligence and initiative, brave as a lion, and trained to guard sheep.
"Though a straight development without much crossing with other breeds, the modern collie is almost a different variety, with a narrower head and muzzle, better pointed ears, and a fuller and finer coat. From the fancier's point of view he is a great improvement on the working dog, and he certainly is handsomer, but in my own humble opinion the fanciers are well-nigh ruining the splendid character of one of the best breeds of dogs ever given to man. For one thing, they have made the head so narrow and snipey, imitating that of the Russian wolfhound, that they have left insufficient room in the skull for all the brains the old collie used to possess. And with this fineness ofbreeding has come some uncertainty of disposition. The modern collie isn't usually given a chance to learn the things his forefathers knew, so how can we expect the same mental development? Mac, I am glad to say, is not of the extreme type. He would doubtless be beaten in the shows, but he is a better dog, for all that. The older type used to be more common here, but has gradually been driven out by the show type which began to be taken up about 1880.