IN ROME
Furnishing and decorating the new home of Romulus and Remus proved to
be a most enjoyable task. They took a good-sized box over to the
planing mill and got it filled with sawdust, and dragged it home on
Ernest's sled. They swept out the old stall carefully and sprinkled
the floor liberally with sawdust, holding the rest in reserve, so that
there might always be a clean, fresh supply. Housekeeping was thus
made easy by simply hoeing out the old sawdust.
For a bed they set a soap box on its side, put in a thick layer of
straw, and tacked a piece of old carpet loosely over it so that it
would be soft and yet the puppies could not scratch it out. They
bought two enameled tin dishes, one for food and one for water, for
they discovered that the puppies did not understand the system of each
having his own. They nailed bits of wood to the floor to hold the
dishes so that they would not be pushed about and overturned. The
puppies enjoyed all this activity immensely, making laughable
efforts to help, and only wailed and wept when their young masters
left the room.
When it was done, the boys surveyed their handiwork with immense
satisfaction, but Jack would not be satisfied until they had tacked to
the wall several pictures of dogs clipped from papers and magazines,
for Jack insisted that the place must be made homelike.
They had read somewhere about the original Romulus and Remus of
history, and so they named the apartment Rome. They thought Sam Bumpus
would approve of this since it began with the letter R. Then they
nailed an old horseshoe to the door for luck, called it a day, and
knocked off.
The next thing to consider was the education of the puppies, and here
the boys felt somewhat at a loss. Romulus and Remus didn't seem to
understand a word of English, and the boys couldn't speak Latin. All
attempts to secure the prompt obedience that Sam had advised ended in
utter failure. Romulus and Remus were very willful and headstrong
puppies. Further advice from Sam seemed desirable.
Furthermore, about the end of the second week, both puppies appeared
to be ailing. In spite of plenty of milk they had grown thin, and
Romulus appeared to have trouble with the action of his hind legs.
Remus seemed to be chiefly afflicted with itching, and had worn a bare
spot under each foreleg.
Ernest and Jack became alarmed, and their father could not seem to
tell what the trouble was. Various things prevented the boys from
making the trip to Sam's shack, and besides they wanted him to take a
look at the dogs. They had noticed his free delivery mail box and so
Ernest sent him this brief summons on a postal card:
DEAR SAM:--
Romulus and Remus are sick and we don't know what to do.
Could you come down some day after school and see them? Also we
want to ask you some things about disaplining them.
Yours truly,
ERNEST AND JACK WHIPPLE.
Sam did not fail them. A couple of days later he appeared at the
Whipple gate and gave the low whistle that he used with Nan. The boys,
humoring his desire not to go into the house, led him at once to Rome.
"Well, now," said Sam, inspecting the puppies' home with evidences of
approval, "this is quite a palace for the little princes. Some day I
s'pose they'll have hot and cold water, electric lights, and a
doorbell."
Then he proceeded to examine the puppies while the boys looked on
anxiously.
"Hm," said he at length. "Just as I expected. Nothing but worms."
"Worms?" echoed the boys in chorus.
"Sure," replied Sam. "Most all puppies get 'em sooner or later, and
sometimes they do a lot of harm if you don't get rid of 'em. But we'll
get rid of 'em all right. Get a pencil and paper and write down what I
tell you to get at the drug store and the directions."
When they reappeared with the necessary articles, Sam continued:
"There's several things that'll take care of worms, but the best and
surest is santonin and calomel. Write that down."
Ernest wrote as Sam spelled the words. It seemed to be much more of an
accomplishment to be able to pronounce and spell such words than
fulfilment or handicraft.
"Tell the druggist," said Sam, "to make you up half a dozen pills with
half a grain of calomel and half a grain of santonin in each one. For
big dogs we make 'em one grain each. To-morrow mornin' give the pups a
little milk and then don't feed 'em again till after they've been
dosed. About noon give 'em each a pill, and then, a couple of hours
later, give 'em each a teaspoonful of castor oil. A couple of hours
after that, feed 'em again, and I'll guarantee they'll be all right,
though you may have to do it all over again in a couple of months. Big
dogs have to fast longer and have to have a tablespoonful of castor
oil."
"How do you give them the medicine?" inquired Ernest, looking at the
squirming puppies doubtfully.
"Easy enough when you know how," said Sam. "I'll show you. Pick him up
like this and take hold of his nose, pushin' his lips between his
teeth with your thumb and fingers. He can't bite and he has to open
his mouth. Of course, with a bigger dog it's harder if he don't want
to stand still. Then take a pill in your other hand and put it down
his throat as far as you can reach. Then shut his mouth and hold his
head up till he has to swaller. He'll never know what went down. It's
the same way with the castor oil, only you'll have to get Jack to hold
the spoon and put it in when you give the word. Put it way down in,
Jack, and don't get excited and spill it. Get a spoon and I'll show
you how easy it is."
Jack ran for a spoon and Sam illustrated with a spoonful of water.
Then the boys tried it until they felt themselves sufficiently expert.
"There's a way of pourin' medicine into the side of a dog's mouth
outside his teeth," said Sam, "but he's apt to spill some of it
before he gets through. Besides, he gets the taste of it that way, and
may run from the sight of a spoon or a bottle ever after. I like my
way better."
He looked at his watch and announced that he must be going.
"I'll look in on you again one of these days," he said, "but I know
they'll be all right if you do like I said."
"And you like Rome, don't you?" asked Jack.
"Rome?" repeated Sam.
"We named it that because Romulus and Remus were Romans," explained
Ernest.
"Yes, it's a mighty good place for them," said Sam. Then he considered
a moment. "Do you expect me to get down and roll in the sawdust and
try to bite things?"
The boys laughed at the idea, though they didn't exactly know what he
meant.
"Why?" asked Ernest.
"Because I've always been told that when you're in Rome you must do as
the Romans do," said Sam, and went away laughing silently.
The boys followed Sam's instructions to the letter, and when he came
again a week later the puppies were as healthy and lively as crickets.
"Now," said Ernest, "we want to ask you about training them. We
forgot about that the other day."
"You don't expect to go gunnin' with 'em for a few days, do you?"
asked Sam.
"No," said Ernest, "but we want them to learn to come when we call and
do what we say."
"Well," said Sam, "all it needs is patience. Keep talkin' to 'em and
the first thing you know you'll find they understand words. Then try
to make 'em do what the words mean. Remember they're only babies yet
and be patient with 'em. Keep at it until they answer to their names.
Don't be discouraged. Of course, it'll be harder gettin' 'em
housebroken if you don't let 'em into the house, but I'll guarantee
you'll do it.
"It ought to be about time to cut down to four meals a day now, and
give 'em shredded wheat or puppy biscuits. And now I'm here, I might
as well give you a little advice about feedin' in gen'ral. You'll
remember it all later. In another month you can cut down to three
meals and maybe add a little chopped meat and gravy at night. Keep
that up till they're six or eight months old, and then you can begin
to feed 'em like grown dogs.
"In feedin' dogs," he continued, "remember they're like humans. They
ought to have meat and grain and vegetables to get all they want to
build 'em up and keep 'em healthy. Some dogs is very finicky and
won't eat vegetables, but you can learn 'em to eat right if you begin
right. A grown dog don't need but one meal a day, near night, but
sometimes a dog gets so hungry that he overeats or bolts his food, and
then it's a good plan to give him a little breakfast, too. Bones they
can have any time. Bones amuse 'em and help keep their teeth and
digestion in good shape. A good rule is to give a dog a little bread
and milk for breakfast, a bone without too much meat on it about noon,
and a good dinner at night, with all sorts of things in it. Get shin
of beef or some other cheap meat at the butcher's and boil it good.
Save the bone and the soup. Cut the meat up in small pieces, mix it
with bread or rice and any vegetables left over from the
house--onions, cabbage, carrots, or anything but potatoes. They ain't
very good for dogs. Mix the food all up together and moisten it with
the soup, but don't have it too wet. Stale bread is better for 'em
than fresh bread. Never give 'em chicken or rabbit bones that may
splinter and injure 'em inside. Don't give too much pork or fat of any
kind. Don't give 'em much candy or sweet stuff. Some folks bake bread
or cakes specially for dogs, but if you do that, don't use much corn
meal. It's too heatin' in summer and it's apt to cause skin trouble.
If anything seems to disagree with 'em, like baked beans, or sweet
corn, or rice, cut it out; you can tell. Last of all, always keep
plenty of clean, fresh water where they can get it. A thirsty dog is
never happy."
These and other instructions the boys obtained from Sam Bumpus from
time to time, and as the days went by they were pleased to see their
dogs growing bigger and stronger. Slowly, too, they began to learn the
meaning of things and to obey their masters' voices. Raising dogs
proved to be the most fascinating thing that Ernest and Jack Whipple
had ever undertaken.
By February they were very proud of their charges and anxious to show
them off. Consequently they welcomed a visit one Saturday morning from
Harry Barton, a chum of theirs. Harry appeared unannounced and
accompanied by his big, bow-legged English bulldog, Mike. He went
directly to the barn, from which issued the voices of the Whipple boys
and their dogs, and entered Rome. The unexpected appearance of Mike
startled Jack, and he picked Remus hastily up and held him in
protecting arms. But Harry only laughed.
"What you 'fraid of?" he inquired. "Mike wouldn't hurt a kitten. He
looks ugly and that's what scares tramps away, but he never bit
anything. You ought to see the baby walk all over him."
"Come on in, then," invited Ernest.
Mike went slowly up to Romulus and sniffed at him noisily. At first
the puppy was frightened, but finding that he was not attacked he
made one or two playful little lunges at the bulldog and then stood
off and barked shrilly at him, Remus joining in the chorus and
struggling to be set down.
"They've got spunk, all right," said Ernest, proudly.
[Illustration: English Bulldog]
Mike sniffed at Remus also, then yawned in a bored sort of way,
waddled out of Rome as though his years and dignity forbade his
association with such frivolous company, and thumped down on the floor
outside. All three boys laughed.
"Well, what do you think of 'em?" Ernest asked presently. "Some dogs,
eh?"
"Oh, they'll prob'ly be all right when they grow up," said Harry,
unwilling to concede too much. "They'll have to grow a lot, though,
before they know as much as Mike."
"But a bulldog can't hunt like a setter," said Ernest, flying to the
defense of his breed.
"Who wants to hunt?" demanded Harry. "Hunting isn't all a dog's for,
is it? A bulldog's a better watchdog than a setter."
Ernest, not knowing whether this was so or not, made no reply.
"But aren't they cunning, Harry?" asked Jack.
"Oh, sure, they're cunning," said Harry, satisfied that he had scored
his point. "Can they shake hands yet?"
"Not yet," said Jack.
"Mike can shake hands," said Harry, "and take the mail from the
postman, and do lots of things."
"But he can't hunt," insisted Ernest, returning to the attack.
"I'd rather have a bulldog than a setter, any day," said Harry. "Why,
the bulldog is one of the best kinds of dogs. It's an older kind than
the setter. They used them in England for fighting bulls hundreds of
years ago. A bulldog is brave and faithful, and he sticks to things.
He isn't a flyaway kind of a dog."
"But they're so homely," objected Jack, glancing out at Mike.
"Ho," cried Harry, "who ever heard of a pretty bulldog? We don't want
'em pretty. Mike's just like a bulldog ought to be, thick-set,
muscular, with wide chest, elbows set far apart, and undershot jaw.
See?"
It sounded very much as though he were reading it out of a book, and
the other boys were much impressed. Ernest found himself wondering
where Harry had picked up his dog lore.
"What do you know about setters?" demanded Harry.
Ernest, in the face of superior wisdom, admitted that he didn't know
very much.
"Well, you ought to," said Harry. "What's the use of having dogs if
you don't know all about them?"
"Sam Bumpus has told us a good deal about training and hunting," said
Jack.
"Yes, but what do you know about the breed, where it came from and all
that? Do you want to find out?"
"Sure," said Ernest.
"Well, I'll tell you where you can find out," said Harry. "I know a
man that knows more about dogs than anybody else in the world, I
guess."
"Who is he?" demanded Ernest.
"Did you ever hear of the Willowdale Kennels?" asked Harry.
Ernest was forced to admit that he had not.
"Well, they're over at Thornboro," said Harry. "They have twenty-eight
dogs there. Mr. Hartshorn owns them, but the man that takes care of
them is Tom Poultice. He's an Englishman, and he used to have charge
of kennels in England once. He knows all about collies and greyhounds
and--and every kind of dogs there are."
"I bet he doesn't know more about setters and pointers than Sam Bumpus
does," said Ernest, loyally.
"Bet you a hundred dollars he does," said Harry.
"Bet you a thousand he doesn't."
The bidding bade fair to be unlimited, and though the millions and
billions and trillions remained to be called upon, Harry desisted.
"Tell you what I'll do," said he. "I'll take you over there and then
you can see for yourselves."
Ernest and Jack promptly forgot their controversy with Harry and
accepted his proposal with animation.
"And can we see all those dogs?" asked Ernest.
"Sure," said Harry.
"How many did you say there were?"
"Twenty-four besides four puppies."
"Whew!" Jack exclaimed.
"When can we go?" asked Ernest.
"Why, this afternoon, if you want to. It's over five miles to
Thornboro, but we can take the 2:10 train and be there in no time. You
come along by my house after dinner and whistle," said Harry.
"Bully," said Ernest, and Harry turned and walked jauntily out of the
stable with old Mike lumbering at his heels.