The Dogs of Boytown Part 11

Recovery was slow but sure for Remus from that time on, while Romulus mended rapidly, and it was not long before he was running about the yard again. Remus gained strength very slowly and for a long time was troubled by a cough and upset digestion, but as the days went by and he suffered no serious relapse Jack's buoyant nature responded and he was glad with hope once more. Tom Poultice came again to offer encouragement and advice, and when Sam b.u.mpus visited Rome unannounced one afternoon and was told what had happened, he proved himself to be most generous in his praise of Tom's skill.

"I don't know this English feller," said he, "but when it comes to doctorin' sick pups, I've got to hand it to him. When you see him again give him old Sam's best regards and tell him I'll vote for him next election whether he's runnin' or not."

Sam was in a jovial mood and the boys were in the humor to laugh heartily at anything he said. The tension was broken, the days of anxiety were past, and sunshine again filled the house on Washburn Street.

"It's just like a toothache when it's over, ain't it?" said Sam.

As for Jack, he hugged the emaciated little Remus close to his breast, and, with big tears of happiness in his eyes, kissed the tousled little head. Remus gave a little, human-sounding whimper and licked Jack's hand. That was the only way he knew to express his love and grat.i.tude, but Jack understood.

CHAPTER VII

SOME OTHER DOGS, INCLUDING RAGS

It was sympathy for Jack Whipple and interest in the sickness and recovery of Remus that resulted in the formation of a sort of freemasonry of dog lovers among the boys of Boy town. It had always been known that some of the boys had dogs, and there had been a good deal of fun with these dogs at different times in the past. But hitherto the dogs had been, in a way, taken for granted, and had lived in a sort of background in the boy life of the town. Suddenly they came to light as important members of the community, and each dog had its boy champion.

While Romulus and Remus were sick, the Whipple boys often had to answer inquiries as to their progress, but Ernest and Jack had been so wrapped up in their own worries that they did not realize the widespread sympathy that had sprung up. They did not know that a dozen other boys each loved a dog much as they loved Romulus and Remus and could understand what it must mean to watch at the bedside of a seriously sick puppy.

But when Romulus was well on the road to perfect health again and Remus was slowly convalescing, the other boy dog lovers of the town began to drop around, sometimes with offerings to be appreciated by dogs, just as neighbors bring in jellies and fruit when a person is recovering from a long illness. Then Ernest and Jack began to realize how many friends they had in Boytown and that they all had a precious possession in common.

Harry Barton came first, with Mike. His manner was subdued and he did not brag. He stepped softly as one would in entering a sick room, and he patted Remus's little head very gently and called him "poor little muttsie." Then came Theron Hammond, though he left his Boston terrier at home because Alert had never had distemper and might catch it. He and the Whipple boys sat for a long time in the stable doorway and speculated about the knowingness of dogs. Monty Hubbard came, too. He left his Irish terrier, Mr. O'Brien, at home because of said Mr.

O'Brien's well-known proclivity to fight with anything in the shape of a dog, though Monty was sure he wouldn't hurt two sick puppies. But Herbie Pierson honored Rome by bringing his huge, brindled Great Dane, Hamlet, who regarded the setters with fatherly indulgence and then walked off in his stately manner and crouched like a n.o.ble statue beside the front gate.

And last of all came Rags and Jimmie Rogers, of whom I will presently tell you more.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Great Dane]

Boytown had always been a great place for dogs. Not only the aristocrats of dogdom, living comfortably in homes with loving masters and mistresses, but all sorts of nondescript dogs, many of whom seemed to be masterless and homeless, though not invariably unhappy. In fact, there were many good citizens of Boytown who did not like dogs and who felt that the canine population of the place was altogether too large.

There were restrictive laws that ought to have reduced this canine population to such dogs as were properly owned and licensed, but the government of Boytown was criticized as being a happy-go-lucky affair a good deal of the time, and it was only when complaints became sufficiently numerous and serious that the town fathers took steps to enforce the laws and abolish what was conceded to be a public nuisance. Then a dog catcher was hired, warnings were posted, and the stray dogs were gathered up and mysteriously disposed of. It was rather a cruel and heart-rending business, if you stopped to think of it, and it would not have been necessary if the authorities had been more uniformly strict in observing the statutes and ordinances, but that was their way.

It was during one of the periods of laxity that a wire-haired terrier appeared from no one knew where. He was not an authentic representative of any of the established breeds; it was quite evident that he had just happened somehow. But he was conspicuous among his miscellaneous black and white and brown and brindled brethren by reason of his superior alertness and intelligence and his never-failing good humor and high spirits. His tramp life had in no way damaged his disposition; he seemed to have been born full of the joy of life. He was about the size of one of Mr. Hartshorn's smaller Airedales and in the main he was not badly formed. But his tail, which had never been docked, hung at a rakish angle to one side and one ear was set higher than the other. His eyes were extraordinarily bright and his wiry coat was a grizzled black, always tousled and generally dirty.

The boys were not long in making this stranger's acquaintance. Indeed, he made the first advances, joining in their sport one day when they were in swimming in the pond over by the brickyard, and mingling his joyous barks with the shrieks of laughter which his antics provoked.

He would pick them up on their way to school, or anywhere, and make himself generally companionable, and it was not long before they discovered him to be most precocious in the learning of tricks.

It was not in the nature of things that such a dog should remain forever masterless, but the periodical cleaning up of the dog catcher had begun before anyone had had time to think of him as anything but everybody's dog. It was Jimmie Rogers who saw him seized and thrust unceremoniously into the dog catcher's covered wagon, and it was Jimmie who set out alone to achieve his rescue. Jimmie's people lived on Sharon Street and were not well to do, but somehow Jimmie managed to sc.r.a.pe together the five dollars which he found must be paid before he could establish his claim to ownership.

After that, by common consent, he became Jimmie Rogers's dog. He had already won the name of Rags.

So Jimmie brought his beloved Rags to visit the invalids, and Romulus and Remus looked on with big-eyed amazement while Rags was made to sit up, shake hands, roll over, chase his tail, play dead, and sing.

But there was one boy with a dog who did not come to visit the sick, and Ernest and Jack Whipple were not sorry. They did not like d.i.c.k Wheaton, and d.i.c.k, it was easy to believe, was not one to care whether another boy's dog died or not. He was a good deal of a bully at school, and Jack feared and avoided him. As for the older boys, they found him generally unamiable and those of them who knew the love of dogs were angry with d.i.c.k for the way he treated poor little Gyp.

Gyp was a smooth-coated fox terrier and a very good specimen of his breed. He was smart and gamey, but his spirit had nearly been broken by his tyrannical master. d.i.c.k seemed unable to resist the temptation to bully everything smaller and weaker than himself, and when there were no small boys or little girls within his reach he indulged his proclivities by teasing his dog.

Gyp, who had never had any other master, did not think of resenting this. He merely endured it as best he might. In fact, there was no more obedient dog in Boytown. It was pitiful to see the way in which he would answer his master's lightest word, as though he lived constantly in the hope of winning favor by his promptness.

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 att.i.tude often undergoes a marked change.

But no relenting took place in d.i.c.k 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 a.s.sociation with an unwritten const.i.tution 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 Sat.u.r.day 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 st.u.r.dy 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.

There was a spot on Rags's back that was difficult for him to reach, and it gave him a good deal of trouble, but he had managed to bite a good deal of the hair out of it. Beneath, Mrs. Hartshorn discovered the skin to be in a scabby and unhealthy condition.

"Well," said she, "this shouldn't be neglected. It may be mange, and that's serious. Let's have Tom look at it."

Tom came up at her bidding and examined Rags's back.

"Do you think it's mange, Tom?" asked Mrs. Hartshorn.

"I don't think so," said he. "It looks like heczema, like the Hairedales had last summer. 'E better 'ave some of that medicine, I fancy."

"All right," said Mrs. Hartshorn, "I still have some at the house, I think, that I got in case my dogs should need it. Eczema," she explained to the boys, "isn't exactly a skin disease. It is caused by the dog's general condition, and should be treated internally, though if you will rub zinc ointment on that spot it will heal more rapidly.

The cure is first a good dose of sulphur and cream of tartar; you can get that in tablet form at the drug store. Then give him the pills I am going to get for you. They are a tonic and ought to fix him up all right."

"Only be sure not to feed him any corn meal," warned Tom.

"That's so," said Mrs. Hartshorn, "especially now that warm weather is coming."

Before the boys left that afternoon she gave Jimmie half a dozen soft pills and also a prescription for more. It read, "Sulphate of quinine, 1 grain; sulphate of iron, 2 grains; extract of hyoscyamus, 1 grain; with enough extract of taraxac.u.m and glycerine to make a pill." It might be added that Jimmie used this medicine faithfully and the sore, itching spot at length disappeared from Rags's back.

Meanwhile the boys had arranged themselves expectantly on the front porch and the maid presently appeared with plates, napkins, sandwiches, crullers, and lemonade. Mrs. Hartshorn was a charming hostess and the boys waxed merry over their luncheon. Great piles of sandwiches disappeared as if by magic, and then there was chocolate ice cream and sponge cake. The dogs lay eying their masters enviously, all except the incorrigible Rags. He sat up and begged constantly, and even Mrs. Hartshorn could not resist the temptation to toss him a morsel now and then, which he caught with great deftness.

Just as they were finishing, Mr. Hartshorn drove up in his car.

"What have we here?" he cried. "An orphan asylum or a dog show?"