The Dogs of Boytown

by Walter A. Dyer

Including Eli, there were fourteen dogs in the party, which was more than had at first been counted on, for not all the members of the Humane Society were dog owners, though the outsiders all had to be. It happened in this way: Frank Stoddard had long been pleading with his parents to be allowed to have a dog, and at last they surrendered and gave him one on his birthday. Mr. Stoddard believed in doing nothing by halves and so he purchased a really fine young collie, sable and white, named MacTavish, and usually called Mac for short. So Frank had a canine companion for the camp and his cup of joy was full.

And there was still another new dog in town. Elliot Garfield's uncle, who knew of the boy's earnest desire to own a dog, sent him early in August an Old English sheepdog. The uncle wrote that he was going to travel a bit, and that if Elliot would guarantee to give his dog a good home, he might have him for his own. You may believe that Elliot was not slow in agreeing to that proposition. It was a pedigreed dog, named Darley's Launcelot of Middlesex. That was a name no one could be expected to use in calling a dog, and even Launcelot seemed a bit strange. So Elliot, who possibly lacked originality, rechristened him Rover.

Most of the residents of Boytown had never seen an Old English sheepdog before, and Rover attracted not a little attention on the street. Some people even laughed at his big round head, with hair over his eyes, and his shambling gait and lack of a tail, but they soon got used to him and came to admire his wonderful gray and white coat. And Rover turned out to be one of the jolliest dog companions in Boytown. He loved the water, and when he got his coat thoroughly wet he seemed to shrink to half his normal size. He was really not much bigger than Romulus, but when his hair was dry and all fluffed out he looked as big as a Newfoundland.

With Rover and Mac added to the party, it began to look like a pretty big affair, as indeed it was. Alfred and Horace entered into the spirit of the thing with zest and arranged for the tents and general equipment. They had both been camping in the Adirondacks, and they knew just what was needed. So they drew up a list of the things each boy must provide for himself—warm blankets, a bag to be stuffed with sweet fern for a pillow, mosquito netting, and an aluminum plate, bowl, and cup for each boy, a dish for his dog, knives, forks, spoons, etc., besides the requisite clothing and toilet articles. It was all done very systematically.

There was one thing that bothered Alfred and Horace, and that was the cooking. They ordered a store of supplies, the boys having all contributed to a fund for that purpose, but that did not solve the problem of three meals a day. The boys had been inclined to pass over this detail somewhat lightly, but Alfred and Horace knew from experience that feeding a dozen hungry boys was no joke, and they didn't intend to have their vacation spoiled by the necessity of turning to themselves and doing all the work.

One day Mr. Morton stopped Alfred Hammond on the street and asked him how the plans for the camp were progressing.

"Everything is going finely," said Alfred, "except for two things. We shall have to postpone our start for a day or two because the tents haven't come yet. Then there's the question of the cooking. I'm blessed if I know how that gang of youngsters is going to be fed."

Mr. Morton stood and thought a moment.

"Maybe I can help you out," he said at length. "I'm just starting off on a little vacation myself, and I've been wondering what I'd do with Moses." (Moses was Mr. Morton's colored man-about-the-place.) "I haven't enough to keep him busy during my absence and it wouldn't do for him to fall into habits of idleness. How would you like to take Moses along with you, and guarantee to keep him out of mischief? He was once an assistant chef or something in a summer hotel, and I believe he's a first-rate cook. His services would cost you nothing, because I have to keep up his wages anyway. I'd be mighty glad to know that he was being kept busy."

"Say, that's mighty white of you, Mr. Morton," said Alfred. "Moses for ours. He's just what we need."