"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 Championship 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 Championship 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 championship 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.

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 shipped 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 shipment 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?"