Boys often like to tease animals, but they are seldom actually cruel, at least not knowingly so. And when a boy becomes possessed of a dog or a pony of his own, his attitude often undergoes a marked change. But no relenting took place in Dick Wheaton's nature, and the other boys who had learned the lesson of kindness, recognizing his right to do as he chose with his own, could only look on with growing disapproval and dislike.
But all the other dog-owning boys of the town found their friendships growing closer in the warmth of this common interest. During the convalescence of Remus they made Rome a sort of lodge room for the meetings of a new association with an unwritten constitution and no by-laws. They talked much of dogs and it was not long before a number of them were keenly desirous of visiting Willowdale and making the acquaintance of dog-wise Tom Poultice, the rich Mr. Hartshorn, and all the Airedales and white bull terriers.
So Harry Barton made the arrangements and one Saturday in May an expedition was formed to walk to Thornboro and visit Willowdale. There were seven boys in the company and three dogs—Mike, Alert, and Rags. Romulus and Remus were not yet strong enough to make such a trip and it was voted that these three could be counted upon to behave themselves properly. There was a little doubt about Rags, but he was a general favorite and was always given the benefit of any doubt. At the last moment Herbie Pierson and Hamlet joined the excursion.
To these active boys and their dogs the way did not seem too long. In fact, Rags, full of joyful exuberance at this rare treat, dashed about on all sorts of secondary adventures, running three miles to every one traversed. Even sturdy little Alert, in spite of his short legs, took it all as a lark and did not think to be weary until he reached home that afternoon and fell sound asleep on his front door mat.
The arrival of the four canine strangers at Willowdale created a good deal of commotion in the fenced-in runs, and Rags nearly went crazy with the excitement. But Tom Poultice took it all good-naturedly, and when he had got things quieted down a little he took the boys through the kennels and introduced them to the prize dogs.
They were all so absorbed in this pleasant occupation that it was noon before they knew it, and Mrs. Hartshorn came out to invite them all up to the porch for a luncheon. As they were following her up to the house she asked questions about their four dogs, and appeared to take a great interest in Alert especially.
"He's really a very fine little dog," she said. "But who is this?" Rags had come up and thrust his cold nose ingratiatingly into her hand.
"Oh, that's Rags," they said, and interrupted each other with explanations. Mrs. Hartshorn laughed.
"Well, I would hardly know what to call him," she said, "but he is evidently a very popular person. But what's the matter with his back?"
"Oh, it just itches," said Jimmie.