“I’ll tell you what we’ll do, Betsy. We’ll try him with a rope-end. I found just the thing in the store-room this morning. Here it is, and I’ll tie a knot at each end. See how he likes that. A rubber ball every day is rather expensive.”
The rope proved highly successful, and Betsy and Van at either end made a great team. Betsy jerked and pulled and Van growled and shook. Then Van got the rope and flew all over the house and the lawn, and when Betsy finally caught her end there was a terrific growling and barking. Van liked it so much that he soon got in the way of trailing his rope on all occasions, hunting for some one who could be coaxed to play with him. Even a neighbor’s dog was invited to take part in the game; but, although he wagged his tail pleasantly, he showed no intelligence, and Van gave him up in disgust.
There was another beautiful game, even better than Rope, because the whole family could play it of an evening, and Van was never happier than when he could stir up everything and everybody on the place. This was “Hide-and-Seek.” Mrs. Johns or the Doctor would hold Van tightly, his little body quivering with excitement, while Betsy hid in some corner, behind a curtain or screen. Then she would call,
“Coop!”
At the sound Van would be released, and would dart like an arrow in the direction of Betsy’s voice. It never took him long to find her, for his little nose was even keener than his eyes and ears.
With a joyful bark he would pounce on her and drag her back by her skirts, growling as if he had caught a lion. Then somebody else must hide and be found.
Once, when Van and Betsy had strayed as far as the park gates, an old hen loomed up in their path. She was bigger than Van, but a puppy who could tree a cat could surely get some sport out of a large bird like that. After her went Van, and Mrs. Dorking took to her awkward legs. These, not filling entirely the necessity for speed, she added wing-power to the effort. Squawking, and frightened almost out of her feathers, she skimmed the ground, with Van close at her heels—if hens have heels.
Betsy laughed heartily at the funny sight, and that was a grave mistake, as later events proved. Of course Mrs. Dorking got away with all her feathers, so Van gave up the chase, and came back panting and wildly enthusiastic.
Van’s education did not consist of tricks and games alone. No, indeed! Fox terriers have a special use in the world; they are, above all things, a breed of rat-catchers, and Van was a sportsman, to the tips of his brown ears.
One morning he clambered out of his basket in the kitchen just in time to see a small, gray, furry thing dodge behind the basket and into the pantry. He did not stop to question; every instinct in him told him that this was Game. Like a flash he was after it. Mary was mixing pancakes at the far end of the pantry, and it went right under her feet. She jumped and screamed and nearly landed on Van’s toes.