The Dogs of Boytown. Dyer Walter Alden

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      "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.

      CHAPTER V

      THE WILLOWDALE KENNELS

      As Harry Barton had said, it was only a short run on the train to Thornboro. The three boys disembarked at the station and walked up a winding, muddy road, for the sun was gathering strength and the snow had been melting fast. The fields and hillsides lay brown and dry, but not uninviting. It was a glorious day to be out of doors, especially upon such a quest.

      They came at length to an entrance in a privet hedge and passed up a long driveway with maple trees along both sides. At the end of it they could see a large brick house with white pillars along the front.

      "My, but this is a big place," said Ernest.

      "Sure," said Harry. "Mr. Hartshorn is a rich man. If he wasn't, how do you s'pose he could keep so many dogs and hire a man just to take care of them?"

      "What does he do with so many?" inquired Jack, to whom the care of one small puppy seemed a considerable responsibility.

      "Oh, he shows them," was Harry's somewhat vague explanation. "He takes prizes with them at dog shows. Some of them are champions. He breeds them, too, and he sells the puppies he doesn't want to keep. I guess he makes a good deal of his money that way."

      "What kind of dogs are they?" asked Ernest.

      "Mostly Airedale terriers and white bull terriers," said Harry. "Not common bull terriers, like Frank Symonds's, but the finest kind, all white."

      As they neared the house, Harry led them into a path through the shrubbery which brought them at last around to the rear, where there was a big stable and garage, a greenhouse, and some other buildings.

      "That long low building is the kennels," said Harry. "The dogs are in their runs out back, I expect, and prob'ly Tom is out there, too."

      "Why!" exclaimed Jack, "it's just like a house for people."

      The Willowdale kennel house was indeed a more elaborate affair than the boys had imagined could ever have been built just for dogs. It made Rome appear very humble in comparison. It was a well-built house, long and low, with windows all along the front and a door in the middle. Over this door was an ornamental gable and there was a cupola at the top. The whole was painted white.

      The boys passed around the end of the building, from behind which issued the voices of many dogs which they presently saw running about in yards built of wire fencing. Some of the dogs were smooth and pure white and some were wiry-coated and a rich black and tan – tan on the legs and head and black or a very dark grizzle on the neck and body. They all appeared to be very lively, active dogs, and some of them seemed rather pugnaciously anxious to get at one another through the wire fences.

      "There's Tom," announced Harry, and the other boys, following his pointing finger, observed a man in brown clothes and leather leggings apparently engaged in mending the fence at the rear of one of the runs. As they approached he straightened up and came forward to meet them, with a little smile on his broad face.

      "Well," said he, "'ere we are. An' 'ow's the little man to-day? An' 'ow's the dog Mike?"

      "Pretty well, thank you," said Harry, in a rather more subdued tone than he had been using toward Jack and Ernest. "These are my friends, Ernest and Jack Whipple. They want to see your dogs."

      Tom Poultice regarded the newcomers quizzically. "Sure you aren't afraid o' gettin' bit?"

      "Oh, no, we aren't afraid of dogs," asserted Ernest.

      "Right-o," said Tom. "Come along and I'll show you our new Hairedale, Bingo's Queen Molly. She's a 'ummer, Molly is."

      He led the way through a wire gate into one of the runs and called the new dog to him, whereat the dogs in the neighboring runs set up a loud barking.

      "They're all jealous," said Tom, "but they wouldn't touch 'er. A male dog scarcely ever attacks a female."

      Molly proved to be a sweet, gentle creature, and allowed the boys to pat and stroke her hard little head.

      "She's the genooine harticle," said Tom. "See the straight legs of 'er an' the square muzzle. She'll win something, or I'm no judge."

      "She's a little smaller than some of them, isn't she?" asked Harry.

      "Yes, but she's just about the right size for showing," said Tom. "Thirty-seven she weighs. I'm partial to the bigger dogs, myself, but the judges generally favor a smaller dog if he's got the points. Molly's certainly got the points."

      Much to the edification of the boys, Tom went on to describe the standard points of the Airedale, illustrating with several of the dogs, all of whom seemed to be very fond of the kennelman. Then he took them in to see the bull terriers.

      "'Ere's a different kind of dog entirely," he said. "As good a fighter and watchdog as the Hairedale, but not useful in so many ways. It's an older breed than the Hairedale. I can remember when the bull terrier was a heavier dog, and brindles were just as good as whites, but now they want only this kind in the shows, with a long skull and pure white. Eyes small and shaped like almonds, and set wide apart. That's the kind. The ears have to be cropped in this country to win prizes. Beastly custom. They don't do it in Hengland any more. I'm glad they let the Hairedales' ears alone."

      For some time Tom Poultice discoursed learnedly on these two breeds and answered numerous questions.

      "What-ho," he exclaimed suddenly. "'Ere's Mr. 'Artshorn coming. Get 'im to tell you about dogs. 'E knows a thing or two 'imself."

      A well-dressed gentleman in a gray overcoat and hat, with a gray pointed beard, and carrying a cane, appeared around the end of the kennel house. The boys appeared a little ill at ease.

      "Don't be scared of 'im," said Tom. "'E likes boys."

      "Well, Tom," said Mr. Hartshorn, stopping now and then to poke his stick through the fence at the dogs that came yelping down their runs to greet him, "how's Molly?"

      "Mighty fine, sir," said Tom; "mighty fine."

      "Some СКАЧАТЬ