DOG DAYS
By June both Romulus and Remus were in full health again and Mr.
Whipple admitted that they began to look like real English setters.
They were puppies still, full of fun and mischief, but their coats had
lost some of their fuzzy, silky character and their bodies had
lengthened and filled out. They had gained a greater control over
their muscles and in their gambols about the yard they had acquired
considerable speed. Sam Bumpus came down again to look at them and
pronounced them likely-looking youngsters.
"They've got some growin' to do yet," said he, "but they're gainin'
bone and speed every day, and the first thing you know you'll have two
fine bird dogs, or I don't know what I'm talking about."
They also displayed increasing devotion to their masters and had begun
to develop, to a certain extent, the qualities of watchdogs.
It was about this time that Jack Whipple made an extraordinary and
alarming discovery. He noticed one day that Remus was having some sort
of trouble with his mouth, as though he had perhaps got a piece of
bone wedged in his teeth. He worked his jaws in a laughable manner and
poked at them with his paw. Then he shook his head, ejected a small
white object, and appeared relieved.
Thinking it must be a piece of bone, Jack picked it up and examined
it. It was a tooth! He called Ernest, and after poking about in Rome,
they discovered another tooth in the sawdust beside the food dish.
They proceeded to examine both dogs, and in Romulus's mouth they found
another loose tooth which came out in Ernest's fingers.
"Why," cried Jack, "they're losing all their teeth. How will they eat?
How can they do anything?"
Ernest was equally puzzled, and that evening they told their father
about it. He also seemed perplexed.
"I'm afraid I can't help you," said he. "You'd better consult Tom
Poultice or Sam Bumpus. Perhaps there's some disease that loosens
dogs' teeth. Possibly it's the result of the distemper. I understand
there are sometimes after-effects of that, such as deafness, and it
may cause a dropping of the teeth. You'd better see about it before it
goes any further."
The boys had been planning for some little time to take the two dogs
up to Sam's shack, since they now seemed old and strong enough to
stand the journey, and it would be good fun for all concerned. So
Ernest sent Sam word that they were coming, and on a bright, warm
Saturday morning the four of them set out.
The sky was clear and blue, a light breeze tempered the warmth of the
brilliant sunshine, and it was a joy just to be alive and out in the
open. The boys had their hands full, for Romulus and Remus had never
before enjoyed so much liberty, and they did not always answer
promptly the recalling whistle. The world, this great, new world,
seemed to hold so many sights and sounds and scents to interest a dog
that their impulse was to keep going and searching and never turn
back. But it was a pleasure just to watch the zest with which they
investigated every thicket and hillock. As they trotted along,
twisting and doubling and turning, their noses held now high, sniffing
the breeze, now close to the ground, they seemed to develop something
of that lithe grace of movement that characterized the actions of
their mother and old Nan.
When they arrived at their destination, the dogs were at first much
excited by the presence of so many others of their kind, but after a
little while they were glad to take a long drink of water and to rest
on the floor of the shack.
Sam, as usual, was smiling and cordial. "They're comin' on; they're
comin' on," said he, patting the young dogs and observing their
sinewy limbs, their sensitive nostrils, and their soft, intelligent
eyes. "Been teachin' 'em to hunt on the way up?"
The boys were forced to admit that they had made little progress with
the vocational training of Romulus and Remus.
"Well, there's plenty of time for that," said Sam. "They've got to get
the sense of the fields and the woods first. You get 'em so they'll
come when they're called, and a little later on I'll have time to take
'em in hand and teach 'em the fine points of the game. How have they
been, anyway? They're lookin' as sound as nuts."
"They've been very well," answered Ernest, "except for one thing. We
don't know what's the trouble, but their teeth are dropping out."
"Their teeth----" began Sam, and then burst into a roar of laughter,
in which the boys presently joined, though they did not know why.
"Don't you worry about them teeth," said he, when he could speak
again. "I'll bet it wasn't so very long ago that Jack here had the
very same trouble. Didn't you know that dogs lose their first teeth
the same as boys do? Sure thing. Some folks are a good deal troubled
about it and pull out the loose teeth for fear the dogs will swallow
them, but it ain't likely to hurt 'em if they do. Just let 'em alone
and nature will look out for 'em. New and stronger teeth will grow
in their places and then they'll be fixed for life."
The boys, relieved to find that the matter was not serious, laughed
again.
"I guess this joke's on father, too," said Ernest.
This trip to Sam's shack was the first of a number of excursions
thither which Sam seemed to enjoy as much as the boys and the dogs.
And when vacation time came and every day was like Saturday, Ernest
and Jack Whipple came to understand better what it really means to
have good dogs for constant companions. It was in these days that
visits to the swimming hole over by the brickyard began, and Romulus
and Remus were taught to enjoy the water as much as their masters did.
This swimming hole, in fact, proved to be the accepted meeting place
for most of the boys and dogs of Boytown, for it became a regular
practice for the boys to bring their dogs and to invent various
aquatic sports in which the dogs played an important part. Old Mike
hated the water and could scarcely be induced to go in, but most of
the others entered into the spirit of the game with zest. Little Alert
proved to be a regular cork in the water, and even huge Hamlet
splashed about in a dignified sort of way. But the general favorite
was Rags. He could dive for stones, retrieve sticks, and even stand
up in the water, with his fore feet pawing the air in a manner to
bring laughter to the soberest. And he had a way of devising sport of
his own, not always respecting the sanctity of the boys' clothing.
I don't know how it is with other boys, but it is certain that the
constant association with faithful four-footed comrades was good for
the boys of Boytown. Boys are often thoughtless to an extent that
verges upon cruelty. They love to tease and often find amusement in
inventing new trials for a much-enduring cat or dog. But once let them
get the idea of comradeship and protection firmly fixed, and not
infrequently a sort of chivalry appears to develop in their natures.
At least it was so with these boys. They quarreled and disputed and
occasionally fought, as boys will, but there was no more torturing of
animals, and with this came less bullying of little boys and teasing
of little girls. Each boy felt the responsibility of protecting his
own beloved dog, and with this came a sense of protection toward all
animals. Mrs. Hammond, Theron's mother, was wise enough to observe and
take advantage of this, and she organized the boys into a sort of
Humane Society, with meetings every two weeks, and a set of rules and
objects. They were pledged to do what they could to see that no dumb
animal was abused, and more than once they were able to dissuade a
brutal teamster from beating an overburdened horse. In only one
quarter did they totally fail. Dick Wheat on would neither join the
Humane Society nor would he mend his ways in regard to his treatment
of Gyp. But at least he never attempted to abuse any other animal
whenever any of the boys were about, after having received a good
licking at the hands of Jimmie Rogers for annoying Rags. That taught
him a much needed lesson.
If every boy in America could be taught to be as kind to animals as
these boys were, and to interest himself personally in their
treatment, this would be a better world to live in.
So the summer vacation days passed, with plenty of outdoor fun, the
boys forming an ever closer comradeship with their common interest,
and Romulus and Remus gaining in strength and wisdom every day. For
the most part they were healthy dogs and gave their masters little
concern on that score, though sometimes their tendency to get into
mischief required attention, for Mrs. Whipple was not reconciled to
their presence about her house and it was necessary to keep watch lest
they offend beyond the chance of pardon. The day they brought Delia to
the verge of tears by tearing a clean sheet from the clothesline and
clashing with it about a muddy yard would have produced a disastrous
crisis if Mr. Whipple had not once more intervened.
Once or twice the two dogs had to be doctored again for worms, and in
August came the pest of fleas. This was a source of annoyance to both
boys and dogs, and Mrs. Whipple, when she found it out, was in
constant fear lest the insects be introduced into the house. When
Ernest or Jack discovered one on their own persons at night they left
no stone unturned to capture and decapitate it.
As to the dogs, they suffered not a little. Their long coats made a
splendid breeding place for the parasites and they wore themselves
thin with scratching. Fleas are not a pleasant thing to talk about,
but all dogs get them, especially the long-haired kinds, and not even
frequent visits to the swimming hole will eradicate them.
It was Sam Bumpus who told the boys what to do about it. One day, when
they went up to visit him, he refused to let Romulus and Remus into
the shack or near his kennels.
"They're full of fleas," said he as he watched the dogs scratching
nervously, "and I don't want 'em to be droppin' 'em around where my
dogs'll get 'em. I have trouble enough with the varmints as 'tis. You
ought to get rid of 'em. If you don't, they'll hang on till November
and the dogs'll be no good for huntin'."
"But how do you get rid of them?" asked Ernest.
"Wash 'em in cresolin or cresoleum or whatever your druggist wants to
call it. He'll know what you want when you tell him. Mix it with warm
water and soapsuds and scrub 'em good. Then rub 'em dry. Do it
outdoors on the grass. It's better than insect powder. It won't kill
all the eggs, but it will drive the fleas off, and if you keep at it,
and do it often enough, you'll get rid of 'em all. Besides, it gives
the dogs some relief before the new ones can hatch. Better burn their
beds once in awhile, too, to kill the eggs in 'em."
The boys faithfully followed Sam's instructions and were pleased to
find the trouble greatly abated.
It was in August, too, that they took Romulus and Remus for their
first trip to Willowdale. They were anxious to learn what Mr. and Mrs.
Hartshorn and Tom Poultice would think of their dogs, and they were
always glad of an excuse to visit the bull terriers and Airedales and
to listen to doggy talk.
Luckily, Mr. Hartshorn was at home on this occasion, though they paid
their respects first to Tom and the kennels before going up to the big
house. Tom had not seen the two setters since they had recovered from
the distemper, and he was pleased to be frankly enthusiastic.
"Well, I'll be blowed!" he exclaimed. "And are these the same two
dogs that I doctored in your barn last spring? They were sad enough
looking pictures then. The bally rascals! They sure 'ave grown some.
Hi'd like nothing better than to take 'em out some day myself on a bit
of an 'unt. Look at the legs of 'em! Say, you've got two fine bird
dogs there."
Naturally the boys were much pleased by Tom's praise of their beloved
dogs, and they lingered for a time about the kennels while Tom pointed
out to them the fine points in a setter's action and explained how
their graceful, level gait enabled them to keep their noses out in
front where they would catch the scent, and at the same time cover
rough country at high speed.
"Hi've 'eard it said," remarked Tom, "that an 'unting pointer can
travel at the rate of eighteen miles an hour and keep it up for two or
three hours, and I guess a good setter's about as fast."
"My!" exclaimed Jack, joyfully, as they walked over to the house, "do
you s'pose we've got the two very best dogs in the world, Ernest?"
"I don't know," said Ernest. "Maybe."
The ardor was cooled a trifle by Mr. Hartshorn. He examined Romulus
and Remus in a minute, judicial, critical manner, and discovered a
number of technical points in which they fell short of perfection.
"But," he added, "they're mighty good dogs, and you must remember that
no dog is absolutely perfect from the show judge's standpoint. And if
these come from as fine a working strain as you have led me to
believe, it is remarkable that they should measure up so well by
bench-show standards. Some of the finest show champions are
second-rate dogs in the field, and some of the best hunting and
field-tried dogs couldn't win a yellow ribbon on the bench. I should
say that your dogs gave promise of developing both working and show
qualities to a marked degree, and I shall watch their careers with
great interest. You have a brace of fine dogs there, and no mistake."
Whereat Jack and Ernest felt better.
"You promised to tell us something about setters and other bird dogs,"
Ernest reminded him.
"Well," said Mr. Hartshorn, "I'm not sure that I know so very much
about them. I used to do a little shooting years ago, but your friend
Bumpus undoubtedly knows a lot more about the game than I do."
"Oh, yes," said Ernest, "he does know a lot about hunting and training
dogs, but I mean about the breeds themselves, their history and the
sort of things you told us about some of the other breeds."
"Well," said Mr. Hartshorn, "I'll do the best I can. The development
of the setter is an interesting story, but first we'll have to go
back to the spaniels. Spaniels, you know, are still classed as
shooting or gun dogs, and are used for that to some extent, and the
setter's ancestor was a spaniel.
"The spaniel first came from Spain or France and there are still many
kinds on the continent of Europe. But the spaniel has been known for a
long time in England, too, and the kinds we know here are those of
British development. Mrs. Hartshorn has already told you about the
English toy spaniels, so I will omit those.
"In the early days, the breeds weren't divided up as they are to-day,
but were known as large and small land spaniels and water spaniels.
The oldest of the land spaniels of England now in existence is the
Sussex spaniel. You won't see any in the United States, I think.
"The clumber spaniel you can see in our shows, but he also is more
popular among the sportsmen and fanciers of England than here. He is
the heaviest of the spaniels. The cocker spaniel is the most popular
kind in this country. His name comes from the fact that he was used in
England for many years for hunting woodcock. He is smaller than the
others. The field spaniel is much like a large-sized cocker, weighing
about twice as much. Finally there is the curly, brown Irish water
spaniel, which is really more closely related to the retriever and
the poodle than to the other spaniels.
"Though spaniels are sporting dogs, they have always been enjoyed
quite as much for their companionship, and they have an enviable
reputation for fidelity. There is a story told of a spaniel of the
time of the French Revolution which reminds one of Greyfriars Bobby.
This dog belonged to a magistrate who was condemned for conspiracy and
was thrown into prison. By means of his coaxing and pretty ways, the
spaniel at last won the heart of one of the jailers and managed to get
in to his master. He never left him after that, even crouching between
his knees when the magistrate was guillotined. He followed the body to
its burial and tried to dig into the grave. Obliged at last to abandon
hope of ever seeing his master again, he refused to eat, and died at
length, of hunger and exposure, on his master's grave.
"Another sad story of devotion is that of a spaniel belonging to the
gamekeeper of the Rev. Mr. Corseillis of Wivenhoe, Essex, England.
This dog's name was Dash, and he was his master's constant companion
at night, when he was able to render valuable service in helping to
detect poachers. When the old gamekeeper died, nothing could persuade
Dash to accompany his successor on his rounds. He divided his time
between the grave and the room in which his master had died, and at
last he, too, died of a broken heart.
"Let me give you a more cheerful one before we pass on to the setters.
Once when Mrs. Grosvenor of Richmond went to visit a relative who
owned some pet cats, she took her Blenheim spaniel with her. The cats,
who were selfish, spoiled creatures, were too many for the small
spaniel, and they succeeded in driving him out of the house. But he
refused to acknowledge defeat. He proceeded to establish an alliance
with the gardener's cat, a big, husky Tom, and when the time was ripe,
the two of them attacked and routed their common enemy, after which
the spaniel was let alone.
"Now we come to the setters. In some respects they are our finest gun
dogs. They came from one of the old land spaniels that was taught to
crouch when finding game and they were called setting spaniels until
about 1800. Since then the breed has been greatly improved. There are
three well-known varieties, English, Irish, and Gordon, all
first-class dogs.
"A man named Laverack in Shropshire, England, was the one who did the
most to develop the English setter. He bred them from 1825 to 1875 and
produced the standard strain. Later a man named Llewellyn promoted the
strain and added new blood. You will still hear the names Laverack
and Llewellyn applied to different types of English setters. This
English variety is the most popular and numerous of the three.
"I don't want to make any unpleasant comparisons, but to my mind the
Irish setter is the handsomest of the family, though as a sporting dog
he does not rank with the English setter. His shape is very nearly the
same as that of the English setter, but his coat is always a wonderful
red-brown, almost golden when the sun shines on it, often very dark,
but with no black spots.
"The Gordon setter is the heaviest of the three and comes from a
strain developed a century ago by the Duke of Richmond Gordon, a
Scotchman. The color is always rich black and tan.
"These are not the only bird dogs, however. There are the retrievers
and the pointer, besides some European breeds, but I'm going to save
them for another time. I've got to get ready to catch a train now, and
besides, I'm afraid of giving you this sort of information in too
large a chunk."
Mr. Hartshorn bade them good-by and went upstairs. The boys remained a
few minutes longer with Mrs. Hartshorn, who had taken a great fancy to
Romulus and Remus, and then they set off for home in the hot sun of
the afternoon.