“Mother!” I cries. “I'm the Kid,” I cries. “I'm coming to you, mother,
I'm coming.”
And I shoots over her, at the throat of the big dog, and the other two,
they sinks their teeth into that stylish overcoat, and tears it off me,
and that sets me free, and I lets them have it. I never had so fine a
fight as that! What with mother being there to see, and not having
been let to mix up in no fights since I become a prize-winner, it just
naturally did me good, and it wasn't three shakes before I had 'em
yelping. Quick as a wink, mother, she jumps in to help me, and I just
laughed to see her. It was so like old times. And Nolan, he made me
laugh too. He was like a hen on a bank, shaking the butt of his whip,
but not daring to cut in for fear of hitting me.
“Stop it, Kid,” he says, “stop it. Do you want to be all torn up?” says
he. “Think of the Boston show next week,” says he, “Think of Chicago.
Think of Danbury. Don't you never want to be a champion?” How was I to
think of all them places when I had three dogs to cut up at the same
time. But in a minute two of 'em begs for mercy, and mother and me lets
'em run away. The big one, he ain't able to run away. Then mother and
me, we dances and jumps, and barks and laughs, and bites each other and
rolls each other in the road. There never was two dogs so happy as we,
and Nolan, he whistles and calls and begs me to come to him, but I just
laugh and play larks with mother.
“Now, you come with me,” says I, “to my new home, and never try to run
away again.” And I shows her our house with the five red roofs, set on
the top of the hill. But mother trembles awful, and says: “They'd never
let the likes of me in such a place. Does the Viceroy live there, Kid?”
says she. And I laugh at her. “No, I do,” I says; “and if they won't let
you live there, too, you and me will go back to the streets together,
for we must never be parted no more.” So we trots up the hill, side by
side, with Nolan trying to catch me, and Miss Dorothy laughing at him
from the cart.
“The Kid's made friends with the poor old dog,” says she. “Maybe he knew
her long ago when he ran the streets himself. Put her in here beside me,
and see if he doesn't follow.”
So, when I hears that, I tells mother to go with Nolan and sit in the
cart, but she says no, that she'd soil the pretty lady's frock; but I
tells her to do as I say, and so Nolan lifts her, trembling still, into
the cart, and I runs alongside, barking joyful.
When we drives into the stables I takes mother to my kennel, and tells
her to go inside it and make herself at home. “Oh, but he won't let me!”
says she.
“Who won't let you?” says I, keeping my eye on Nolan, and growling a bit
nasty, just to show I was meaning to have my way. “Why, Wyndham Kid,”
says she, looking up at the name on my kennel.
“But I'm Wyndham Kid!” says I.
“You!” cries mother. “You! Is my little Kid the great Wyndham Kid the
dogs all talk about?” And at that, she, being very old, and sick, and
hungry, and nervous, as mothers are, just drops down in the straw and
weeps bitter.
Well, there ain't much more than that to tell. Miss Dorothy, she settled
it.
“If the Kid wants the poor old thing in the stables,” says she, “let her
stay.”
“You see,” says she, “she's a black-and-tan, and his mother was a
black-and-tan, and maybe that's what makes Kid feel so friendly toward
her,” says she.
“Indeed, for me,” says Nolan, “she can have the best there is. I'd never
drive out no dog that asks for a crust nor a shelter,” he says. “But
what will Mr. Wyndham do?”
“He'll do what I say,” says Miss Dorothy, “and if I say she's to stay,
she will stay, and I say--she's to stay!”
And so mother and Nolan, and me, found a home. Mother was scared at
first--not being used to kind people--but she was so gentle and loving,
that the grooms got fonder of her than of me, and tried to make me
jealous by patting of her, and giving her the pick of the vittles. But
that was the wrong way to hurt my feelings. That's all, I think. Mother
is so happy here that I tell her we ought to call it the Happy Hunting
Grounds, because no one hunts you, and there is nothing to hunt; it just
all comes to you. And so we live in peace, mother sleeping all day in
the sun, or behind the stove in the head-groom's office, being fed
twice a day regular by Nolan, and all the day by the other grooms most
irregular, And, as for me, I go hurrying around the country to the
bench-shows; winning money and cups for Nolan, and taking the blue
ribbons away from father.