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Dogs Of Boytown

<h3>CHAPTER IX THE TRAINING OF ROMULUS</h3> 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 136 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 137 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 138 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 139 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 140 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. 141 "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 142 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 143 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 144 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. Romulus, so Ernest learned, could now retrieve at command and would bring back a dead pigeon or other bird without rumpling its feathers. He would also range in obedience to a wave of Sam's hand and was gradually learning to stand fast and hold his point when he flushed a covey of birds. Finally Sam took out his gun to shoot over him, and the rest of his training was to be chiefly that persistent practice which finally makes perfect. It was decided that Romulus should remain with Sam until snow fell, but one night there came a scratching and a whining at the door and a series of peculiar short little barks so persistently kept up that they awakened both the boys. They slipped on their dressing gowns and slippers and stole downstairs. At the door they found Romulus with a broken bit of rope tied to his collar. "Why," cried Jack, "it's Romulus. See, he must have broken away." "He came all the way home alone in the dark," said Ernest. "How do you s'pose he ever found his way?" Romulus seemed to understand that it was not the time to make a noise, for though he kept leaping on 145 the boys in an access of delight and making little sounds in his throat that were almost human, he refrained from the loud, joyous barking that he would have indulged in if it had been daytime. Remus had heard him, however, and was making a considerable commotion in Rome. So the boys took Romulus quietly out to his brother, who greeted him with paw and tongue and voice, and bidding both dogs goodnight, they went back to the house. So it was decided that if Romulus so much desired his own home, he should be deprived of it no longer. Sam came down in a day or two to find out about it. "I thought he'd probably run home," said he, "but I wanted to make sure. I guess we'd better leave him here now. I'm pretty near through with him for this fall, anyway. You just bring him up once in awhile so I can take him out and not let him forget what I've learned him." Meanwhile the affairs of Boytown were going on much as usual. Autumn passed in golden glory, with nutting expeditions in October in which sometimes as many as a dozen boys and a dozen dogs joined forces. As they started out through the town streets, Mr. Fellowes, the news dealer and stationer, said it looked as though a circus had come to town. Such things, however, were of common and regular occurrence. Only two episodes of that season deserve 146 to be specially recorded. One was a dog fight which for a time brought the dog-owning fraternity of Boytown into ill repute. For some time several of the boys had been bragging, as boys will, about the prowess in battle of their particular dogs, and this narrowed down at length to an unsettled controversy between Monty Hubbard and Harry Barton. Monty maintained that the Irish terrier was the greatest dare-devil and fighter in the canine world, and he quoted books and individuals to prove it. Harry, on the other hand, insisted that the bulldog's grit and tenacity were proverbial, and loudly asserted that if Mike once got a grip on Mr. O'Brien's throat, it would be good-by, Mr. O'Brien. It is only fair to the boys to state that it was the Irish terrier that started the fracas on his own initiative. He was a scrappy terrier, always ready to start something, and it usually required considerable vigilance to keep him out of trouble. But it must be confessed that on this particular occasion his master did not exert the usual restraint. It happened out on the road that Ernest and Jack so often took when they visited Sam Bumpus or Trapper's Cave. Mr. O'Brien had been annoying the other dogs for some little time, rushing and barking at them and inviting a friendly encounter. He was not vicious, but he loved a tussle. Finally Mike the bulldog, 147 usually so long-suffering, lost patience and turned on Mr. O'Brien with a menacing snarl that seemed to mean business. For a moment the Irishman stood still in surprise, while Mike, his head held low, waited with a stubborn look in his eyes. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/irishterrier.jpg" width-obs="437" height-obs="400" alt="Irish Terrier" /></div> That was clearly the time for interference, but I regret to say that instead of interfering, the boys grouped themselves about with feelings of not unpleasant anticipation. I further regret to say that Ernest Whipple was one of the most interested. Suddenly Mr. O'Brien, recovering from his surprise, returned to the attack with an impetuous rush which 148 nearly bowled Mike over. But Mike was heavier than Mr. O'Brien and stood very solidly on his four outspread feet. He merely turned about and presented a terrifying front to his more active antagonist. Again Mr. O'Brien rushed, seeking a hold on Mike's big, muscular neck. For a time Mr. O'Brien seemed to be having the best of it. He took the offensive and seemed to be on all sides of Mike at once. The bulldog's ear was bleeding and Harry urged him to retaliate. Suddenly Mike raised his huge bulk and bore down the lighter dog beneath his weight. Then he began methodically seeking the vice-like hold that would have meant the last of Mr. O'Brien. Just at that moment, however, a diversion occurred. "Here, there, what are you doin'?" demanded a man's hoarse voice, and Sam Bumpus came striding into the thick of it. Without the slightest fear or hesitation, though such an act was decidedly not without danger, he darted in and seized the dogs by their collars, one in each hand, and displaying wonderful strength of arm he dragged them apart. If Mike had succeeded in getting his hold, if Sam had come up a minute later, he could not have done it. As it was, he held the snarling, struggling dogs at arm's length, shook them, and then ordered their masters to take them in charge and keep them apart. 149 Ernest had never seen Sam angry before; he was usually the embodiment of even-tempered good humor. But he was angry now. His jaws snapped and his eyes flashed, and he seemed to be itching to give somebody a good spanking. At last he spoke. "I thought you boys was fond of dogs," he said. "I thought you made a great fuss about bein' kind to animals. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, settin' two good dogs on to fight each other. Don't you know no better? Dogs are built to fight, and they ought to know how to when it's necessary, but any man or boy that starts 'em fightin' for sport is a coward." Without another word he turned and vanished into the woods. The boys made no comments, either, and I am glad to say that most of them were about as ashamed of themselves as boys can be. By common consent the afternoon's expedition was abandoned and the company dispersed. But that was not all of it. The story of the dog fight leaked out, and there was more than one home in Boytown in which a boy was warned that if anything of that kind happened again there would be no more dogs in that family. And Monty Hubbard received something even more impressive than a lecture. Mrs. Hammond, when she heard of it, was wise enough to say nothing until the matter had 150 cooled down somewhat. Then she took occasion to set forth her views in a way that the boys never forgot, and there was never another encouraged dog fight in that town. The other incident which I spoke of was the strange disappearance of Romulus. One morning he was gone and he did not return home all that day. Ernest searched for him in vain and went to bed that night with a very heavy heart. The next day Romulus did not appear, nor the next. Acting on his father's advice, Ernest placed an advertisement in the paper and offered a reward, but without result. Little by little Ernest was forced to give up hope, and a very disconsolate boy he was. Jack and Remus did their best to console him, but he grieved night and day. No one could suggest what had become of Romulus. Then, on the evening of the fifth day, a slight scratching was heard at the door, and a low whine. Ernest, who was studying his lessons, heard it first. Dropping his book on the floor, he rushed out, closely followed by Jack and Mr. Whipple. There lay Romulus on the door mat, "all in," as Sam Bumpus would have said. He was so weak and weary that he could hardly rise, and the wonder was that he had been able to drag himself home. A piece of rope attached to his collar showed that he had broken loose from somewhere, and bleeding feet testified to the 151 distance he had come. Ernest lifted him in his arms and buried his face in the dog's shaggy coat, and Romulus responded as well as he could with a warm, moist tongue and a wagging tail. After they had given him a dinner of warm broth and had made him comfortable in Rome, Mr. Whipple succeeded at last in dragging Ernest away. "He'll be all right now," said Mr. Whipple. "He's exhausted, but he'll soon recover from that. He's a young dog, you know." "But where could he have been?" wondered Jack. "It's my belief that he was stolen," said Mr. Whipple. "Someone who knew he was a valuable dog stole him, but I doubt if we shall ever learn who it was. But he must have been taken some distance away. He looks as though he might have traveled thirty miles or more." "How do you s'pose he ever found his way back?" asked Jack. Mr. Whipple shook his head. "Dogs are wonderful creatures," said he. <hr class="c30" /> 152 <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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