The Dogs of Boytown

by Walter A. Dyer

The question of Dick Wheaton gave the boys a little trouble. They didn't like Dick, he was not a member of the Humane Society, and some of the boys thought he ought to be barred out because of his well-known disposition to be unkind to animals. Besides, he had been openly making fun of the whole proceeding. Being divided in the matter, they sought Mrs. Hammond's advice.

"I should let him enter Gyp if he will," said she. "It can't do you any harm, and it may help to get Dick a little more interested in dogs and in the Humane Society. Besides, it isn't Dick that's going to be benched, but Gyp, and you haven't anything against Gyp."

Put in that way, it did seem unfair to bar out an unoffending dog, who deserved nothing but sympathy, just because his master was not popular. So Gyp became one of the twenty-six. Mr. Hartshorn refused to consider bringing down any of his dogs, and the boys were rather glad of that, for it would hardly be a fair competition if the ordinary dogs of Boytown were obliged to compete with the winners of Willowdale. It was too much like introducing professionals into an amateur contest.

"Besides," said Mr. Hartshorn, "it would be highly improper for a judge to have to judge his own dogs. It isn't done, you know."

So that matter was satisfactorily settled. Mrs. Hartshorn was invited to enter her toys, but she declined on the ground that this was a Boytown show and they were Thornboro dogs. As for Sam Bumpus, he said that a shoemaker had best stick to his last, and that a trainer of gun dogs had no business to be mixing up with bench shows.

Meanwhile, the original committee had been busy getting the show hall into shape. Enough boards were obtained from here, there, and everywhere to make two long benches, one along each side of the barn, stoutly built and standing about two feet from the floor. These were divided off by partitions into enough stalls to accommodate all the dogs entered, and a coat of whitewash made the whole look clean and neat.

At the inner end of the barn the amateur carpenters erected a ring of posts, connected by a rope. This was where the judging was to take place. Finally, a cashier's booth was made out of a large dry-goods box and placed at the entrance, and Theron Hammond was elected to stand there and receive the admission fees, as he was the treasurer of the Humane Society. Frank Stoddard, who had no dog to show, but who was as much interested as any of them, was appointed to purchase tins for drinking water and to keep them filled during the show.

The last thing they placed cedar shavings from the planing mill in each of the stalls, arranged hooks to fasten the leashes to, and tacked to the wall above each place a card bearing the name, breed, and owner of the dog that was to occupy it. So far as possible, they arranged the dogs in accordance with their size. When it came to Rags's card, they were a bit puzzled, for Mr. Hartshorn had told them that Rags didn't belong to any recognized breed. But it didn't seem fair to Rags to leave the space blank, so they invented a name for his breed—wire-haired American terrier.

On the morning of the great show Jack Whipple awoke early and jumped out of bed.

"Ernest!" he cried, and there was gloom in his voice.