The Dogs of Boytown Part 12

He got out of his car and ascended the steps, demanding his share of the luncheon. Those of the boys who had not already met him were introduced. Then he asked to be made acquainted with the dogs.

"What do you think of them?" asked Herbie Pierson, who was very proud of his imposing Great Dane.

"I'll tell you after I've partaken of a little nourishment," said Mr.

Hartshorn. "You can't expect a man to talk learnedly on an empty stomach, can you?"

He proceeded to do ample justice to his share of the sandwiches and ice cream, while a jolly conversation was kept up, even the shyer boys entering in at last.

"Now," said Mr. Hartshorn, as he finished his last spoonful, "let's have a look at that Great Dane."

He stepped down from the porch and approached Hamlet, who submitted to his caress with dignity. Then Mr. Hartshorn did strange things to him which brought a look of amazement into his eyes. He pulled back the dog's hind feet and made him stand straight, measured his head with his hands, pulled down his lips, and thumped his ribs.

"A pretty good dog," said Mr. Hartshorn. "A trifle off in the shoulders, perhaps, and a bit cow-hocked, but he has a good head. Ever show him?"

"No, sir," said Herbie.

"Well, you ought to. We'll see about that some time."

"Won't you tell us something about Great Danes and other dogs, Mr.

Hartshorn?" asked Harry Barton. "Things like you told us about the terriers the other day."

"Why," said he, "I thought I must have given you such a dose of it the other time that you would want to run away from any more."

"Oh, no, sir," said Ernest Whipple. "We thought it was very interesting. We've talked it over a lot since, and we want to know about all the other kinds of dogs, too. All the boys do."

"Well," said Mr. Hartshorn, "you never can tell what a boy will like, I guess. If you had to learn all that in school, I'll bet you'd hate it. But I don't want to overdo it. I'll tell you about just a few this time."

The boys crowded around him expectantly as he sat down again on the porch.

"The Great Dane," he began, "though once a hunting dog, a boarhound, is now cla.s.sed among the non-sporting breeds, and I'll tell you something about those. They include the very biggest dogs--the mastiff, the St. Bernard, the Newfoundland, and the Great Dane. The smaller ones are the English bulldog, the French bulldog, the chow chow, the poodle, the Dalmatian, and the schipperke. The collies and other sheepdogs are also cla.s.sed with the non-sporting breeds, but I'll save those for another time. Let me get a book or two, so that I'll be sure to get my information correct.

"Now then," he continued, when he had returned with his books, "I'll outline a few facts about each of these breeds, but in order to avoid sounding like a walking catalogue, I am going to omit a good many things like color, size, and weight. These things are very important in distinguishing the breeds, but they aren't very easy to carry in your heads, and you can find them all set down in the dog books. I shall try to tell you only the interesting, picturesque things about each breed's history and character, and you can find all the rest in the books.

"Let's begin with the St. Bernard. He's the biggest of all. Who knows anything about the St. Bernard?"

"There's a piece in the Fourth Reader about them," ventured Theron Hammond. "They used to guide travelers in the Alps and rescue them when they were lost in the snow."

"And there was one named Barry," put in Harry Barton, "who saved the lives of forty people, and they set up a monument of him in Paris."

"Correct," said Mr. Hartshorn. "There's no breed more famed in song and story than the St. Bernard. It was developed long ago by the monks of the Hospice of St. Bernard in Switzerland, who trained their dogs for the purposes you have mentioned. So many of them were lost, however, that the breed got into a bad way a hundred years ago and had to be brought back by crossing with the Newfoundland and other breeds.

As I said, it is one of the largest breeds, sometimes weighing as much as two hundred pounds--more than most men."

"Are there some good St. Bernard stories?" asked Jack Whipple, who preferred anecdotes to descriptive particulars.

"A lot of them," said Mr. Hartshorn, "but there seems to be a good deal of sameness about them. They tell of the saving of Alpine travelers and shepherds, lost in snowstorms or caught in creva.s.ses in glaciers. Some of them are very thrilling. The best story I ever read about a St. Bernard, however, had nothing to do with mountaineering.

"This dog was the beloved friend and constant companion of the Count of Monte Veccios, a Venetian n.o.bleman. Now it became very necessary to the Count that he should obtain certain favors from General Morosini, who was somewhat difficult of approach, in spite of the fact that he was in much the same position himself. In order to gain his own ends, the General had arranged in his palace a gorgeous banquet in honor of the Doge of Venice, from whom he hoped to gain important concessions, and he had caused his great banquet table to be laden with gold and silver plate and much fine Venetian gla.s.s.

"The Count, hearing of these preparations, screwed up his courage and called on General Morosini. He praised to the skies the table appointments, which pleased the General, but as soon as he began to plead his own cause, the General became cold and unyielding and begged the Count to cease annoying him about these petty matters. As the Count left the General's palace, he turned to his faithful dog, with tears in his eyes, and said, 'You see, my friend, how badly I am used.'

"The St. Bernard was greatly affected by this, and he formed in his own mind a plan of revenge, since it was beyond his powers to secure justice. Un.o.bserved, he stole back into the General's palace, and just as the Doge was arriving with his retinue, the dog seized the corner of the tablecloth in his mouth and dashed out of the house, upsetting the entire banquet and smashing most of the valuable gla.s.sware. I don't believe there is any moral to that story, but perhaps that won't spoil it for you.

"I don't believe I have any mastiff stories," continued Mr. Hartshorn, "but that breed must be mentioned in pa.s.sing, as it is one of the very old and very famous breeds of England. The mastiff used to be popular here thirty years ago, but we seldom see any now, and sometimes I fear the breed is dying out. It's too bad, for he was a fine, powerful dog, brave and wise.

"Another fine dog that has gone out of fashion is the Newfoundland.

There are still some good ones in England, but very few here. I suppose the Newfoundland has more rescues of drowning persons to his credit than any other breed, and it's a shame to see him go. The breed originated on the island of Newfoundland a hundred years ago, and you will still see a dog's head on the Newfoundland postage stamps.

"The Newfoundland has a waterproof coat and is a wonderful swimmer, so that a good many of the anecdotes told about dogs of this breed have to do with their exploits in the water. For example, there is one of a man who fell off a narrow foot-bridge into a swift mill stream. The miller's dog promptly dived in and rescued him, and having accomplished this, coolly plunged in again to save the man's hat that was just about to be swept over the dam. There are several amusing stories told of Newfoundlands dragging bathers to sh.o.r.e, quite against their wills, because the dogs fancied they were in danger.

"A naval lieutenant owned a canary bird and a Newfoundland dog. While they were cruising in the Mediterranean, the bird escaped from the cabin and, flying out to sea, became weighted down with the spray and dropped into the water. The dog leaped overboard, and when he was hauled up on deck again, he dropped the bird out of his mouth, quite uninjured. Another naval officer who owned a Newfoundland was drowned when his ship was sunk near Liverpool. The faithful dog swam about over the spot for three days and three nights, searching vainly for his master, before he would allow himself to be brought exhausted to land.

"Friendships between two dogs are very rare, but instances have been recorded, and in most of these a Newfoundland figures. At Donaghadee there was once a mastiff and a Newfoundland who were, for some reason, bitter enemies, and as both were powerful dogs, it was desirable to keep them apart. One day, however, the mastiff attacked the Newfoundland on the pier, and a terrific fight ensued. At length both dogs fell into the water and loosed their holds. The Newfoundland was soon on dry land, but the mastiff was a poor swimmer and appeared in danger of drowning. The Newfoundland, observing the plight of his recent antagonist, plunged in again and brought him to sh.o.r.e, after which the two dogs were the closest friends. Another Newfoundland at Cork became so annoyed by a small, troublesome cur, that at last he took him in his mouth and dropped him into the water. When the small dog was nearly drowned the Newfoundland rescued him, and was never annoyed by him again.

"But the Newfoundland has been the means of saving not merely drowning persons. In 1841 a laborer named Rake in the parish of Botley, near Southampton, in England, was buried in a gravel pit with two ribs broken. He was helpless and would undoubtedly have died there if his employer's Newfoundland dog had not dug him out.

"William Youatt, who wrote two or three of the dog books in my library, tells of an experience he once had with a friend's Newfoundland dog named Carlo. Youatt and the friend and Carlo parted on the road to Kingston, the dog and his master turning off toward Wandsworth. Soon afterward Youatt was accosted by ruffians. He never knew what made Carlo come back to him, but the dog appeared at the critical moment and drove the men away. Carlo escorted Youatt to a safe place, and then, in the author's quaint words, 'with many a mutual and honest greeting we parted, and he bounded away to overtake his rightful owner.'

"The Newfoundland has always been famous as the protector of children, and this is ill.u.s.trated by an amusing story told of a Newfoundland that was owned by the chief engineer on H. M. S. _Buffalo_. The incident took place on an evening in 1858 at the Woolwich theater in London. In the third act of the play, 'Jessie Vere,' there was a violent struggle over the possession of a child. The dog, who had sneaked into the theater behind his master, flew to the rescue across the footlights, much to the consternation of all concerned."

"My!" said Ernest Whipple, "there are certainly a fine lot of stories about Newfoundlands. Are they all true?"

"Well," smiled Mr. Hartshorn, "I can't vouch for them all, but I believe that most of them are founded on fact, and some of them are undoubtedly quite true. Now let's see what the next dog is.

"The Great Dane is at the present time the most popular of the very large dogs. As you can see by looking at Hamlet, he is a powerful, graceful animal. The breed was used in Germany, I don't know how long ago, for hunting the wild boar and was introduced into England in the '80's as the German boarhound. You can see from this one what kind of dog it is. The ears are commonly cropped in this country, but in 1895 the practice was abolished in England for all breeds. I hope some day it will be abolished here. The fanciers think cropping makes the dog look smarter, but it's a silly, unnatural thing to do, when you come to think of it. I wish I didn't have to do it with my bull terriers, but they would never take prizes with long ears. I don't remember any Great Dane stories.

"Now we come to the smaller ones. Mike here is a very good English bulldog, though not so extreme a type as some of them. This breed, like the mastiff, is of British origin, and probably came from the same ancestry. He was trained for bull baiting and later for pit fighting. Tramps and other people are afraid of bulldogs because of their frightful appearance, but as you can see, if you know Mike, they are often as gentle as lambs.

"The French bulldog is much smaller and he is different in many respects. He has big bat ears, for one thing. The chow chow is an interesting dog that comes from China. Perhaps you will be amazed when I tell you that this dog was originally bred and fattened by the Chinese to be eaten like pork and mutton. The tastes of the Oriental are certainly peculiar.

"The poodle, which was originally a German dog but which was developed chiefly in France, used to be better known than he is now. He is supposed to be the cleverest of all dogs and you will usually find poodles in troops of trick dogs."

"It seems to me," said Theron, "that I've read some stories about poodles."

"Yes, there are a number of cla.s.sic poodle stories," said Mr.

Hartshorn, "ill.u.s.trating the cleverness of the breed. I am sorry to say that poodles have been trained as thieves' dogs, and have been widely used by smugglers on the French frontiers, who trained them to carry lace and other valuable commodities across the border.

"The most famous of these stories is that of the poodle of the Pont Neuf, one of the bridges of Paris. He was owned by a bootblack, who taught him to roll in the mud of the Seine and then run about among the pedestrians on the bridge, dirtying their shoes. This meant more business for the bootblack. An Englishman observed this performance and was much impressed by the dog's smartness in carrying out his part. He offered the bootblack a good price for the poodle and took him back to London with him. But the poodle didn't care for his new life; apparently he had no wish to reform. Somehow or other he managed to stow himself away on a Channel boat and made his way back to Paris, where he returned to his former master and resumed his old occupation."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Toy Poodle]

When the boys had finished laughing over this droll story, Mr.

Hartshorn continued:

"The Dalmatian or coach dog comes from eastern Europe, and was bred long ago in Dalmatia, now an Austrian province. He was well known in England by 1800 and was used there as a stable dog and was trained to run with the horses and under the carriages. Here you will see them most often as mascots in fire engine houses. It's queer how fashions run in those things. He is always pure white, evenly covered with round black or brown spots.

"The last of this group is the schipperke. I don't believe you know him, for the breed isn't very common here. The name means 'little skipper,' and the dog has long been a favorite with the captains of Flemish and Dutch ca.n.a.l barges. The schipperke has no tail to wag.

There," he concluded, "I guess I've filled you up with enough dog information for this trip. I don't want to overdo it."

"You couldn't overdo it for me," said Ernest Whipple. "Will you tell us about some of the other breeds another day?"