"I suppose Remus couldn't run," said Jack.
"I'm afraid not, my boy," said Mr. Hartshorn, kindly. "Nose is one of the prime requisites, and Remus hasn't the nose, as you know."
"I don't care," said the loyal Jack. "I'd rather win at a bench show, anyway."
When Ernest told Sam Bumpus about the plan, that worthy was much interested. He made a special trip all the way to Willowdale to consult Mr. Hartshorn, and between them they worked out a plan. Sam was enthusiastic now as to the superior abilities of Romulus as a bird dog, and he presently took him in hand for special training to improve his form and the other qualities that count in the trials. Off and on all winter Sam took the dog out, patiently and persistently drilling him. Sometimes Ernest went along and he was amazed by the intelligence and speed which his good dog displayed. When spring came again Sam announced that there was nothing more that he could do to improve the form and capacity of Romulus.
"I'll back him against any bird dog in the state of Connecticut," said he, proudly.
But before I tell how it fared with Romulus at the trials, I have one episode to relate, the only happening of that winter which needs to be recorded. For the rest, the weeks passed without any momentous event, with the boys in whom we are interested growing ever a little older and wiser. And this particular thing was not of great importance, perhaps. It did not greatly affect the boy-and-dog life of Boytown. But it did affect Jimmie Rogers, and Jimmie, since the death of Rags, had been the one lonely, pathetic figure in the group. It would be a shame not to tell of the thing that happened to him.
One day in early December Dick Wheaton appeared on Main Street, dragging a forlorn-looking little dog by a string. He was a smooth-coated dog of the terrier type, a rich chocolate brown in color, with an active body and a good face and head, but anybody could see he was only a mongrel. No one knew where he had come from and Dick did not take the trouble to tell where he had found him.
In his present state the dog showed none of the alert, eager character of the well-born terrier. He held his tail between his legs and he cringed abjectly. This seemed to amuse Dick Wheaton. He made little rushes at the dog and laughed to see the terror in his eyes. He found entertainment in tapping the dog's toes with his foot and watching him pull back on the string. Wearying of this, he began maltreating the helpless animal more cruelly.
Mr. Fellowes saw all this from the window of his store, and his blood boiled within him. Unable to stand it any longer, he started out of his shop to protest, when he saw Jimmie Rogers come running along.
There could be no doubt as to Jimmie's purpose. His lips were tight set and his eyes were blazing. He came close up to Dick and seized his arm.