CHAPTER XVI
THE MASSATUCKET SHOW
During the winter the Willowdale dogs had again won bench-show honorsin New York, Boston, and elsewhere, and Mr. Hartshorn and Tom Poulticewere now getting some of them in shape for the smaller outdoor showsof the summer season. Several of the boys made a pilgrimage toThornboro one day early in June and found Tom engaged in combing thesoft, puppy hair out of the coat of one of the young Airedales.
"Why do you do that?" asked Elliot Garfield.
"It does seem foolish, doesn't it?" said Tom. "Well, you see aHairedale is supposed to 'ave a short, stiff coat, and if you put onein the ring with a lot of this soft 'air on him, the judge won't looktwice at 'im."
"Are you going to show this one?" asked Ernest Whipple.
"Yep," said Tom. "'E goes to Mineola next week. It'll be his firstshow. I don't know what his chances are. Mineola usually has a lot ofgood dogs. It's near New York and it's one of the biggest of thecountry shows. We usually try out the youngsters and the second-stringdogs on these summer shows and keep the best ones for the big wintershows. Then we 'ave a chance to see 'ow they size up. If a dog winsribbons enough in the summer shows we figure he's qualified for thebig ones next winter. Sometimes a dog can win his championship withoutever seeing the inside of Madison Square Garden. He has to be shown alot of times, that's all, and win pretty regular."
"It isn't so hard to win at the summer shows, is it?" asked TheronHammond.
"Oh, my, no," said Tom. "Sometimes when the classes are small it's acinch. Take a rare kind of dog and he's apt to 'ave no competition."
"I wonder if any of our dogs would have a chance at one of the summershows," said Jack, with suppressed eagerness in his voice.
"I don't know why not," Tom responded.
That started the boys thinking and talking, and a week later theytrooped out to see Mr. Hartshorn about it. Half the boys in town haddecided that they wanted to show their dogs, and Mr. Hartshorn was atfirst inclined to discourage them all.
"It's quite a job, taking dogs to a show and caring for them there,and it costs something," said he. "You have some good dogs--in fact,they're all fine fellows--but not many of them are of the show type.You would find the competition somewhat different from that inMorton's barn. I don't believe your parents would thank me forencouraging you to enter dogs that haven't a good chance at theribbons, and I'm sure I would hesitate to be responsible for lookingafter a gang of you."
"But couldn't a few of the dogs be tried?" asked Jack Whipple.
Mr. Hartshorn looked into the lad's eager, bright eyes and smiled.
"Perhaps," said he. "Let me think it over."
As a matter of fact it was Mr. Hartshorn's desire not to seem to showfavoritism that made him speak that way. For his own part he wouldlike nothing better than to see Remus and one or two of the other dogshave a try at the ribbons, and his wife urged him to give them achance. The outcome of it was that most of the boys were dissuaded,with quiet friendliness, from attempting the useless venture, whilefive dogs were eventually entered in the show of the MassatucketKennel Club, to be held at Welden, some fifty miles from Boytown, inJuly. These five were Romulus, Remus, Alert, Hamlet, and Rover. TheseMr. Hartshorn thought would stand the best chance of winningsomething. The Old English sheepdog was entered under his originalname of Darley's Launcelot of Middlesex, and for once Elliot Garfieldwas proud of the name.
Mr. Hartshorn knew he had quite a handful of boys and dogs to lookafter, but Mrs. Hartshorn said she would help, while Tom Poultice tooksole charge of the half-dozen Willowdale dogs that were also entered.
The Willowdale dogs were shipped ahead in crates, as usual. So waslittle Alert. The masters of the other four dogs, however, objected toa form of confinement which the dogs couldn't understand, and it wasarranged that the boys should take the dogs with them in the baggagecar. Theron Hammond courteously offered to accompany Mrs. Hartshorn inthe coach and Tom Poultice took an earlier train, so the baggage carparty consisted of Romulus, Remus, Hamlet, Rover, Mr. Hartshorn,Ernest and Jack Whipple, Herbie Pierson, and Elliot Garfield. It wasfortunate that only half a car-load of baggage was traveling that day,or they might not have been able to crowd in. As it was, they managedto find seats on various boxes and trunks and made themselves fairlycomfortable. The dogs, with their masters for company, were content,after the first sense of strangeness had worn off.
"I understand," said Mr. Hartshorn, after the train had started,"that about five hundred dogs are entered, so it ought to be a fairlyrepresentative show. It won't be like New York, of course, but youought to have a chance to see good dogs of most of the well-knownbreeds. And the dogs at an outdoor show are usually happier and lessnervous than if they were cooped up for two or three days in a crowdedhall and compelled to spend their nights there. There are reallyserious objections to the big indoor shows. More danger of spreadingdistemper and other diseases, too, than at the outdoor shows."
"Do you think we will see any of the famous champions there?" askedHerbie.
"Yes," said Mr. Hartshorn, "I believe some of the crack Sealyhams andwire-haired fox terriers are entered, and there's sure to be a goodshowing of Boston terriers. Alert will be in fast company.
"The wires are always worth seeing," said he, after a pause. "It was awhite bull terrier that won best of all breeds in New York lastwinter, but during the last half-dozen years wire-haired fox terriershave won two-thirds of the first honors. The breeders seem to havenearly achieved perfection with this variety. Matford Vic, Wireboy ofPaignton, Wycollar Boy, and several others have been almost perfectspecimens. But you never can tell. Their day may be passing, and forthe next few years it may be Airedales or bulldogs, or almost anyother breed that will force its way to the top. That's one of theinteresting features of the dog-show game. Then sometimes you find allpredictions upset, and all the big dogs beaten by a greyhound or anOld English sheepdog. There's always a chance for everybody."
Beagles]
As the train pulled up at a station somewhere along the line a manentered the baggage car with a brace of beagles on a leash. Nicelittle dogs, they were, with friendly eyes and beautiful faces.
"Is the baggage man here?" asked the man.
"I haven't seen him lately," said Mr. Hartshorn. "Is there anything wecan do for you?"
"Why, yes," said the man. "I'm sending these dogs down to Welden.There'll be someone to call for them there. You look as though youmight be bound for that place yourselves, and if you could keep an eyeon these dogs it would be a great favor."
"We'll do so with pleasure," said Mr. Hartshorn.
"What are their names?" asked Ernest.
"Tippecanoe and Tyler Too," he answered. "I'm entering them as singlesand as a brace, and I think I stand a pretty good show."
The baggage man came along, and by the time the owner of the beagleshad arranged for their shipment the train was ready to start again.
"It's lucky you were here to take them," said the man, "or I shouldn'thave been able to send them this way. Good-by and good luck."
"Good-by," they shouted, and proceeded to get acquainted with thebeagles.
"They're like small hounds, aren't they?" said Jack.
"Yes," said Mr. Hartshorn, "they are really hounds."
"Oh," said Ernest, "that makes me think. You never told us about thehound breeds, and you said you would sometime. Couldn't you do itnow?"
"Let's see," said Mr. Hartshorn, opening his grip. "Ah, yes, here itis." He took out a small paper-covered book containing the standardsof the different breeds. "I always mean to take this with me to theshows. Without my books I can't always remember the facts, but withthe help of this I guess I can make out.
"Now there still remain the hound and greyhound families to becovered. They are both hounds, in a way, but they have been distinctfor centuries. They are both very old types of dogs.
"We will begin with the bloodhound because he's the biggest. There area lot of people who have got their ideas about th
e bloodhound from'Uncle Tom's Cabin,' and there are places where you aren't allowed tokeep a bloodhound because the breed is supposed to be so dangerous andferocious. But that is a great injustice. The true English bloodhoundis not the mongrel beast that was used in slavery days, but is afinely developed and reliable dog. Contrary to the general belief, themodern bloodhound is not ferocious, but gentle and affectionate,almost shy. He is a wonderful trailer and has often been successfullyused to find both criminals and lost persons, but he does not attackthem when he finds them.
"The otter hound is an English dog not common with us. He has a uniqueappearance, something like a bloodhound in a rough coat, with a facenot unlike that of an Airedale terrier or a wire-haired pointinggriffon. He is a steady and methodical hunter, sure on the trail, astrong swimmer, brave, patient, and affectionate.
"The foxhound is the most popular sporting dog of England, his historybeing bound up with that of British hunting. I guess you know what afoxhound looks like. The American Kennel Club recognizes two separateclasses of foxhounds, the English and the American. The latter is, ofcourse, native bred, and is somewhat smaller and lighter in bone thanthe English hound. The so-called American coon-hound is a dog of thefoxhound type and of foxhound origin, bred carelessly as to type, buttrained to hunt the raccoon and opossum.
"The name harrier was first given somewhat indiscriminately to allEnglish hunting hounds before the foxhound was highly developed. Laterthe harrier was developed as a separate breed for hunting hares. It isnow rare in England and there are almost no harriers in the UnitedStates. The beagle is like a smaller, finer foxhound, and has the sameancestry. He is a good, all-round sporting dog, and a good-lookingfellow, as you see, with a solid build, a rugged appearance, and afine face.
"The dachshund (don't call it dash-hund) is a canine dwarf best knownfor his absurdly disproportionate appearance, but he is a mostattractive, serviceable little dog. He was evolved long ago from thehounds of Germany for the special work of hunting the badger. His bentforelegs and queer proportions are really deformities scientificallybred. The dachshund has a wonderful nose and is a good worker withfoxes as well as with ground animals, though his peculiar build bestfits him for the latter. He is a clean, companionable house dog,affectionate and spirited. The basset is a short-legged French houndresembling the German dachshund, to which it is doubtless related. Weare not familiar with the breed in this country. It looks like a largedachshund with a bloodhound head."
"Do you know any good hound stories?" asked Jack, who was fondling thelong, velvety ears of the two beagles.
"Not many," said Mr. Hartshorn. "Most of the foxhound stories I haveheard have illustrated the sagacity and cleverness of the fox ratherthan that of the hound. There are also one or two stories that showthat the hound has a strong homing instinct like that of some of theother breeds. The only foxhound anecdote of an amusing nature that Irecall is told of one that was owned by a strict Roman Catholic.Whenever Lent arrived, this dog always ran away and paid a round ofvisits on Protestant acquaintances until Easter ushered in a period ofmore varied menus at home. This hound was not trained with a packbut was kept as a single pet, which accounts for his markedpersonality, more like that of a terrier than of a hound.
"I have read a number of accounts in the newspapers describing rescuesby bloodhounds. I remember one was about a Brooklyn girl who wanderedaway from a hotel and was lost on a mountain in Vermont. A famousbloodhound was brought over from Fairhaven and was allowed to smell ofa handkerchief belonging to the girl. He took up her trail at thevillage store and followed it along roads where horses and automobileshad been, through two other villages, and into the woods, and he atlast found the girl on the verge of exhaustion far up themountainside.
"Another bloodhound in California found a lost child at the edge of acliff in a dense fog and drew him back from the precipice just intime. Most of the bloodhound stories are of that nature, though thereare some that have to do with the trailing of criminals.
"One of the classic stories of literature is that of the hound ofMontargis. He may have been a St. Hubert hound, or one of the otherFrench hounds, though I have always suspected that he may have been amatin or dog of the Great Dane type. But the breed is a matter ofminor importance. The main features of the story are somewhat asfollows:
"There were once two officers of the King's bodyguard in France namedMacaire and Montdidier. Fast friends at first, they became bitterenemies and rivals, and one day in the Forest of Bondi, near Paris,after a violent quarrel, Macaire drew his sword and slew Montdidierand buried his body in the woods.
"Now Montdidier owned a faithful hound who came to search for him. Hetraced him to the grave and there he remained until he was nearlyfamished. The poets would have us believe that the dog reached theconclusion that his master had been slain, that he discovered thescent of the murderer, and that he set out in quest of vengeance. Atany rate, he went to the home of a friend of his dead master's and wasgiven food. He attached himself to this household but went often tothe grave.
"Of course, Montdidier's comrades soon missed him and his absence wasreported to Charles V, the King. Foul play was suspected and the Kingordered an investigation, but no evidence was forthcoming. MeanwhileMontdidier's friend had also become suspicious and one day he followedthe hound to the grave. Observing the dog's actions, he surmised whatmust be there. He reported the matter to the King who had the bodyexhumed and discovered marks of violence.
"On several occasions after that the hound attempted to attack Macairebut was prevented from doing him injury. He was entirely peaceabletoward everybody else, so that these circumstances were noticed.Guardsmen remembered that Macaire and Montdidier had quarreled andsuspicion fastened itself upon Macaire. The King was told of all thisand he himself observed the actions of the hound when he was broughtnear his master's murderer.
"In those days it was sometimes the custom for judges to settle adispute by ordering the contestants to fight a duel. King Charlesdecided to adopt this method in an effort to determine whether or notMacaire was guilty, and he ordered a trial combat to take placebetween the man and the dog at the Chateau of Montargis on the Isle ofNotre Dame, Paris. The man was given a stout cudgel as his onlyweapon, while the dog was provided with an empty cask into which hemight retreat if too hard pressed.
"The battle was a terrible one, Macaire fighting for his life and thedog to revenge his dead master. The hound paid no heed to the blowsthat were rained upon him, but attacked blindly. At last he got a firmgrip on the man's throat and hung on. Macaire, weakening andterrified, begged to be rescued and confessed his guilt. The dog wasdragged away at last and the gallows robbed him of his revenge."
"Whew!" exclaimed Herbie Pierson. "Some story! Got any more like that,Mr. Hartshorn?"
"Half a dozen of them," replied Mr. Hartshorn with a laugh, "butthey'll have to wait till another time, as I believe we are nearingour destination. For the same reason I must postpone telling you aboutthe dogs of the greyhound family. Here we are, boys."
Tom Poultice was waiting for them at the Welden station and so was theman who had come for the two beagles. Under Tom's guidance they walkedout to the fair grounds, which were only a mile away. This was to bethe scene of the show, and there were already a number of dogs andcrates about.
"I've arranged to stay out 'ere," said Tom. "There's an 'ouse where Ican sleep, and I can look after all the dogs."
They looked around the grounds a bit. Mr. Hartshorn found thesuperintendent of the show and had a few words with him, and then theyall returned to town, leaving the dogs in Tom's care. They were allwell acquainted with him and did not feel that they were being leftamong total strangers.
They registered at the hotel, which they found to be overcrowded. Anextra cot was placed in one of the rooms, and Ernest, Jack, and Elliotwere assigned to it. They did not consider the situation to be anyhardship. They enjoyed a good dinner in the dining-room and thengathered in Mr. Hartshorn's room for a talk.
After d
iscussing dog shows some more and speculating as to the outcomeof the morrow's contests. Ernest, whose thirst for dog learning wasinsatiable, reminded Mr. Hartshorn of his promise to tell them aboutthe breeds of the greyhound family.
"The greyhound proper," said he, "is of course the first to beconsidered. It is perhaps the oldest distinct type of dog now inexistence. Likenesses of greyhounds are to be seen in relics ofAssyrian, Egyptian, Greek, and Roman sculpture, and the type hasaltered surprisingly little in seven thousand years. It was developedfor great speed from the first and was used in the chase. Unlike theother hounds, the dogs of the greyhound family hunt by sight and notby scent.
"The whippet is merely a smaller greyhound, but has been bred as aseparate variety for upward of a century. On a short course thewhippet is faster than a racehorse, covering the usual 200 yards inabout 12 seconds. Whippet racing as a sport has never taken hold inAmerica and we have comparatively few of the breed here. You havealready been told about the Italian greyhound. It belongs to thegreyhound family but is classed as a toy.
"Although speed is the thing for which the greyhound is most famous,stories have been told which illustrate the breed's fidelity andsagacity when his master makes a comrade of him. I will tell you oneof these tales. A French officer named St. Leger was imprisoned inVincennes, near Paris, during the wars of St. Bartholomew. He had afemale greyhound that was his dearest friend and he asked to have herbrought to him in prison. This request was denied and the dog was sentback to St. Leger's home in the Rue des Lions St. Paul. She would notremain there, however, and at the first opportunity she returned tothe prison and barked outside the walls. When she came under hermaster's window he tossed a piece of bread out to her, and in this wayshe discovered where he was.
"She contrived to visit him every day, and incidentally she won theadmiration and affection of one of the jailers, who smuggled her inoccasionally to see her master. St. Leger was at last released, buthis health was broken and in six months he died. The dog grieved forhim and would not be comforted by any of the members of the household.At last she ran away and attached herself to the jailer who hadbefriended her and her master, and with him she lived happily till theday of her death.
"Now we come to one of the grandest breeds of all--the Irishwolfhound. It is a breed of great antiquity and of great size andpower. The Latin writer Pliny speaks of it as _canis graiusHibernicus_, and in Ireland it was known as _sagh clium_ or wolf dog.For in ancient Ireland there were huge wolves and also enormous elk,and the great dogs were used to hunt them. These hounds were even usedin battle in the old days of the Irish kings.
"Two classic stories are told of the Irish wolfhound. One is of thehound of Aughrim. There was an Irish knight or officer who had hiswolfhound with him at the battle of Aughrim, and together they slewmany of the enemy. But at last the master himself was killed. He wasstripped and left on the battlefield to be devoured by wolves. But hisfaithful dog never left him. He remained at his side day and night,feeding on other dead bodies on the battlefield, but allowing neitherman nor beast to come near that of his master until nothing was leftof it but a pile of whitening bones. Then he was forced to go fartheraway in search of food, but from July till January he never failed toreturn to the bones of his master every night. One evening somesoldiers crossed the battlefield, and one of them came over to seewhat manner of beast the wolfhound was. The dog, thinking hismaster's bones were about to be disturbed, attacked the soldier, whocalled loudly for help. Another soldier came running up and shot thefaithful dog.
"The other story is that of devoted Gelert which you may have heard.Robert Spencer made a poem or ballad of it."
"I've never heard it," said Jack Whipple.
"Nor I," said Elliot Garfield.
"Well," said Mr. Hartshorn, "it's a rather tragic story. Put intoplain and unadorned prose, it runs something like this: Gelert was anIrish wolfhound of great strength and great intelligence that had beenpresented by King John in 1205 to Llewelyn the Great, who lived nearthe base of Snowdon Mountain. Gelert became devoted to his master andat night 'sentinel'd his master's bed,' as the poem has it. By day hehunted with him.
"One day, however, Gelert did not appear at the chase and whenLlewelyn came home he was angry with the dog for failing him. He wasin that frame of mind when he met Gelert coming out of the chamber ofhis child. The dog was covered with blood. Llewelyn rushed into theroom and discovered the bed overturned, the coverlet stained withgore, and the child missing. He called to the boy but got no response.
"Believing that there was but one interpretation for all this,Llewelyn called Gelert to him and in his wrath thrust his swordthrough the dog's body. Gelert gave a great cry of anguish thatsounded almost human, and then, with his eyes fixed reproachfully onhis slayer's face, he died. Then another cry was heard--that of thechild, who had been awakened from sleep by the shriek of the dyingdog. Llewelyn rushed forward and found the child safe and unscratchedin a closet where he had fallen asleep. The father hurried back to thebloody bed, and beneath it he found the dead body of a huge gray wolfwhich told the whole story. In remorse Llewelyn erected a tomb andchapel to the memory of faithful Gelert and the place is called BethGelert to this day."
There was a suspicious moisture about more than one pair of eyes asMr. Hartshorn finished this narrative, and he hurried on to lesstragic matters.
"The Irish wolfhound is to-day a splendid animal," said he, "and thebreed deserves to be better known in this country. It has had aninteresting history. There was a time when it nearly died out inIreland, and the modern breed was started with the remnants some fiftyyears ago, with the help of Great Dane and Scottish deerhound crosses.The new breed was not thoroughly established, however, until thelatter part of the last century. As a made breed, so called, it is aremarkable example of what can be accomplished by patient, scientificbreeding. The Irish wolfhound is a big, active, sagacious, wonderfullycompanionable dog, muscular and graceful, and as full of fun as aterrier.
"The Scottish deerhound is similar in most respects to the Irishwolfhound, but is lighter, speedier, and less powerful. They have acommon ancestry, though the two breeds were distinct as long ago asthe twelfth century. The breed was a favorite with Sir Walter Scott.
"The Russian wolfhound, known in Russia as the borzoi, is one of themost graceful and aristocratic of all the breeds, combining speed,strength, symmetry, and a beautiful coat. He has been used forcenturies in Russia for hunting wolves and has been bred as thesporting dog of the aristocracy."
"It makes a dog show a lot more interesting to know something aboutthe different breeds," said Ernest Whipple.
"Of course it does," said Mr. Hartshorn. "And if I am not mistaken, Ihave told you something about almost every breed that you will ever belikely to see at a dog show or anywhere else."
Soon afterward they separated for the night.