CHAPTER XI
THE BOYTOWN DOG SHOW
The Boytown Dog Show was scheduled for Wednesday of Easter week, andthe days preceding it were busy ones for the members of the BoytownHumane Society. They called on every owner of a dog in town, both boysand grown-ups, and succeeded in obtaining entry fees from a goodproportion of them. In the end, they had twenty-six entries, rangingfrom Herbie Pierson's Great Dane down to Mrs. Peabody's little Peke,and they saw to it that every one of these dogs was benched on the dayof the show.
On Monday morning the citizens of Boytown were amused to find tackedto trees, billboards, and telephone poles in different parts of thetown a score or more home-made posters announcing the show, andadvertisements appeared in the local papers. The posters were somewhatcrudely done, perhaps, in red and black ink, but they left no doubt asto their import, and it is safe to say that there wasn't a singleresident of Boytown who did not soon know of the coming exhibition.The posters read as follows:
BOYTOWN DOG SHOW!
_Morton's Barn, Henry Street._
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 12.
9 A.M. to 5 P.M.
Come and see the finest dogs in Boytown. 26 dogs--21 breeds. First, second, and third prizes will be awarded to the best dogs. Mr. Merton Hartshorn, proprietor of the famous Willowdale Kennels, will act as judge. Judging will begin at 2.30 P.M. Prizes will be awarded at 4 P.M.
ADMISSION, 25 CENTS.
The proceeds will be given to the Red Cross.
The question of Dick Wheaton gave the boys a little trouble. Theydidn't like Dick, he was not a member of the Humane Society, and someof the boys thought he ought to be barred out because of hiswell-known disposition to be unkind to animals. Besides, he had beenopenly making fun of the whole proceeding. Being divided in thematter, they sought Mrs. Hammond's advice.
"I should let him enter Gyp if he will," said she. "It can't do youany harm, and it may help to get Dick a little more interested in dogsand in the Humane Society. Besides, it isn't Dick that's going to bebenched, but Gyp, and you haven't anything against Gyp."
Put in that way, it did seem unfair to bar out an unoffending dog, whodeserved nothing but sympathy, just because his master was notpopular. So Gyp became one of the twenty-six. Mr. Hartshorn refused toconsider bringing down any of his dogs, and the boys were rather gladof that, for it would hardly be a fair competition if the ordinarydogs of Boytown were obliged to compete with the winners ofWillowdale. It was too much like introducing professionals into anamateur contest.
"Besides," said Mr. Hartshorn, "it would be highly improper for ajudge to have to judge his own dogs. It isn't done, you know."
So that matter was satisfactorily settled. Mrs. Hartshorn was invitedto enter her toys, but she declined on the ground that this was aBoytown show and they were Thornboro dogs. As for Sam Bumpus, he saidthat a shoemaker had best stick to his last, and that a trainer of gundogs had no business to be mixing up with bench shows.
Meanwhile, the original committee had been busy getting the show hallinto shape. Enough boards were obtained from here, there, andeverywhere to make two long benches, one along each side of the barn,stoutly built and standing about two feet from the floor. These weredivided off by partitions into enough stalls to accommodate all thedogs entered, and a coat of whitewash made the whole look clean andneat.
At the inner end of the barn the amateur carpenters erected a ring ofposts, connected by a rope. This was where the judging was to takeplace. Finally, a cashier's booth was made out of a large dry-goodsbox and placed at the entrance, and Theron Hammond was elected tostand there and receive the admission fees, as he was the treasurer ofthe Humane Society. Frank Stoddard, who had no dog to show, but whowas as much interested as any of them, was appointed to purchase tinsfor drinking water and to keep them filled during the show.
The last thing they placed cedar shavings from the planing mill ineach of the stalls, arranged hooks to fasten the leashes to, andtacked to the wall above each place a card bearing the name, breed,and owner of the dog that was to occupy it. So far as possible, theyarranged the dogs in accordance with their size. When it came toRags's card, they were a bit puzzled, for Mr. Hartshorn had told themthat Rags didn't belong to any recognized breed. But it didn't seemfair to Rags to leave the space blank, so they invented a name for hisbreed--wire-haired American terrier.
On the morning of the great show Jack Whipple awoke early and jumpedout of bed.
"Ernest!" he cried, and there was gloom in his voice.
"What is it?" asked Ernest, sleepily.
"It's raining," said Jack.
"Oh, dear!" groaned Ernest.
But they hurried through their breakfast, nevertheless, and takingRomulus and Remus they hastened down to Morton's barn. They found thatthe other members of the society were equally unafraid of a littlerain, but they were all a bit depressed. The prospect for a successfulshow did not seem very bright. However, since all the arrangements hadbeen made, the boys decided that the only thing to do was to go ahead.Other exhibitors arrived, some of them planning to spend the day withtheir pets, but it was ten o'clock before Theron Hammond took in asingle admission fee. Furthermore, Mrs. Peabody and one or two othertimid exhibitors had failed to put in an appearance, and specialmessengers had to be despatched to fetch them.
It was just as well, perhaps, that the boys had this extra time to puton the finishing touches, for the dogs were not used to this sort ofconfinement and made a good deal of trouble before they could bequieted. Then a special shelf had to be built for the display of theprizes. The boys were so busy, in fact, that they hardly noticed thatthe rain had ceased. About eleven o'clock Theron gave a glad cry.
"The sun's coming out," he announced. "And here comes a gang ofpeople."
From that time on the spectators arrived in a steady stream, until thebarn became quite crowded and the dogs were much excited. The membersof the society acted as ushers and entertained their visitors withmore or less learned lectures on the different breeds. And for themost part the spectators appeared to be hugely pleased with the wholeperformance, boys and dogs included.
But the center of attraction turned out to be a dog that everyone knewdidn't stand a show for even third prize. It was comical old Rags. Heseemed to be enjoying the show more than anybody else in the place andto feel that the Red Cross needed his services as an entertainer. Hewas ready with uplifted paw to greet every visitor that stopped infront of his bench and he never failed to bring a smile to the face ofthe least interested. You couldn't see Rags without loving him, hiseyes were so merry, his smile so broad and warm, his crooked ears soabsurdly fascinating. He got as much patting and petting that day assome dogs get in a lifetime, and it seemed to him, at least, that adog show was a most excellent kind of institution. Some of the dogsdidn't take to it in so kindly a manner. Mr. O'Brien, in fact, becamequite ill tempered before the day was over.
To say that Jimmie Rogers was pleased is not overstating the truth. Hewas prouder of Rags than if he had won all the silver cups inChristendom, and he kept busy most of the day putting Rags through hismany tricks.
The boys went home to dinner in relays, and by two o'clock the crowdwas even larger. They were curious to see what the judging would belike. Mr. and Mrs. Hartshorn and Tom Poultice arrived in theautomobile, and after they had inspected the dogs, many of whom knewthem, Mr. Hartshorn announced that the judging would begin.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said he. "If you will kindly give me yourattention, and if Monty Hubbard will be good enough to sit on Mr.O'Brien's head, I will explain the manner in which the judging will beconducted. When I call out the names, the owners will please bringtheir dogs to the ring. I will inspect them in groups of five. I willmake a note of the best dogs in these groups, and will then ask to seesome of them a second time in order to determine for certain whichare, in my judgment, the best dogs."
Beginning with Hamlet, he called for the first five dogs in the row,and proceeded thus
until, in the last group, six were judged. Hewent at it in a businesslike manner, examining each dog carefully, andmaking jottings in a notebook. When asked about his basis for judgingthe dogs, he promised to explain that when he announced the winners.Each owner held his or her own dog in the ring, making him walk pastthe judge when so requested, and it all went smoothly until the thirdgroup came to be judged. Then, before anyone knew what had happened,the overwrought Mr. O'Brien had made an angry lunge at Li Hung Chang,and there was something doing in the show ring. The chow was notlacking in courage and returned the attack, while the other three dogsstruggled vainly to mix in. Some of the ladies in the audiencescreamed, and it required the combined efforts of Mr. Hartshorn, Mr.Morton, Tom Poultice, and Monty Hubbard to separate the antagonistsand straighten things out again. Mr. O'Brien was unsatisfied andsnarled ominously, but it made him look all the more spirited duringthe judging. After that there were no untoward events to mar theoccasion.
By the time Mr. Hartshorn had had some of the dogs up a second andeven a third time it was nearly four o'clock, the hour set forannouncing the winners. The place was crowded now, and not a littlespeculation was heard as to the judge's probable decisions. Among theboys, at least, this interest in the outcome amounted to tenseexcitement, in which some of the grown-ups were not ashamed to share.
At length Mr. Hartshorn came to the rope and addressed the gathering.
"Ladies and gentlemen," said he: "you are all waiting, I know, tolearn the names of the winning dogs, but first I think I ought tooffer a few words of explanation. Let me say that we have some verygood dogs here to-day. They might not measure up to the standard setin the big shows, but they are very good representatives of thevarious breeds. Since it is necessary to compare dogs of differentbreeds instead of dogs of the same breed in judging, it is notaltogether easy to reach a decision on comparative merits. I can onlyrely upon my best judgment and will ask you to be indulgent with me incase you do not agree with my choice.
"In judging dogs at a show, we do not take into consideration thepersonal character or intelligence of a dog, but chiefly his physicalcharacteristics. He must not appear stupid, and he must show thequalities of character attributed to his breed. A sleepy terrier, forinstance, cannot win in a show. Beyond that, however, it is a matterof what is called type. Authorities have carefully gone over thepoints that are typical of each breed and have written them out inwhat are called the standards. Winning dogs must conform verylargely to the type described in the standard, and the more of theestablished points he can show in perfect form, the higher will be hisscore in selecting his position among the winners. I cannot take yourtime to describe all these points in each case, but simply state thatmy judging is on that basis.
"It is an arbitrary method, I grant you, and there are good people whoprotest against judging dogs in accordance with their physicalfeatures, not taking into account the qualities of heart and brainthat we really care for in a dog. But that is the fancier's way ofgetting at it. If we did not have arbitrary and approved standards towork toward in breeding, every breeder would work out his own personalideas, and we would have a strange assortment of sizes and shapes andno predominant type in any breed. It is the work of the fanciers thathas produced the marked differences between the breeds and that keepsthem from degenerating into a sorry lot of mixed mongrels, until weshould not be able to tell a collie from a St. Bernard.
"I trust that this brief explanation will give you an idea of thebasis of my judgment in this show. I have given the preference not tothe wisest and most capable and most affectionate dogs, but to thosethat most nearly approach the approved standards of their breeds. Iwill now ask to have the following dogs brought to the ring: Mr.Sanderson's German shepherd dog, Rupert of Hentzau; Mrs. Peabody'sPekingese spaniel, Chi Yen; Herbert Pierson's Great Dane, Hamlet;Harry Barton's English bulldog, Mike; Montague Hubbard's Irishterrier, Mr. O'Brien (keep him on a short leash, Monty); JackWhipple's English setter, Remus."
All of these dogs have been previously mentioned except Rupert. Bothhe and his master were newcomers in Boytown, and the big, strong,active dog, with his wolfish look, his erect ears, and his brave,bright eyes, had attracted a good deal of attention at the show. Whenthe six dogs had been brought again into the ring, Mr. Hartshorncontinued his discourse.
"I believe," said he, "that all of these dogs should receive honorablemention, or, as we call it at the shows, the V. H. C.--very highlycommended. They all possess points of excellence, but all fall shortin some particulars. Rupert of Hentzau looks like a perfect dog, butif you were to compare him with the best of his breed you would seethat he is a little too short in the head, too flat-sided, and tooleggy. Chi Yen measures up pretty well, but she hasn't a good colorand her coat isn't quite as profuse as it should be. Hamlet's feet andankles are bad. This is often the case with big dogs that grew fastwhen they were puppies. Their bones do not strengthen fast enough tobear their increasing weight, and the result is apt to be flat feet,turning out, and bent ankles. Hamlet is a bit thin, too, but isotherwise a good Dane. In the English bulldog classes, the preferenceis generally given to the extreme types. A dog with wider elbows,deeper chest, and a heavier jaw would beat Mike easily. Mr. O'Brienhas Irish terrier character a-plenty, but he is a bit too large andcoarse, as the expression is, and his coat is too long and soft andtoo light in color. Remus will make a fine dog some day, I believe,but he has had hard luck thus far and he hasn't grown up quite evenly.He needs strengthening in the shoulders and he is out of coat. Histail is a bit stringy. With proper care, I believe these defects canbe obviated. I take pleasure in conferring the V. H. C. on these sixdogs."
They were led out of the ring amid the applause of the spectators,which somewhat softened the disappointment of their owners in nottaking prizes. When Mr. Hartshorn called for the three dogs that wereto receive the honors of the show, the applause increased. In answerto their names, Theron Hammond, Ernest Whipple, and Dick Wheatonbrought their dogs proudly to the ring. Mr. Hartshorn took thehandsome silver cup from its shelf and held it up where all might see.
"It gives me great pleasure," he announced, "to confer the firstprize upon Alert, Boston terrier, owned by Theron Hammond."
Theron stepped forward, blushing violently and smiling broadly, andtook the trophy from the hands of the judge. Then he stooped downimpulsively and picked Alert up, hugging him in his arms, to whichdemonstration Alert replied by gently chewing his master's ear. Whenthe hand-clapping had died down, Mr. Hartshorn continued:
"I will not spoil this triumph by pointing out Alert's defects. Hewould very likely meet his superiors in one of the big shows, for theBoston terrier entries are always very large, but I don't think hewould be entirely out of the running in a novice class. I understandhe is a registered and pedigreed dog, and he certainly shows evidencesof good breeding. In my judgment he comes closer to his breed'sstandard than any other dog in this show.
"The second prize, this handsome dog collar, is won by Romulus,English setter, owned by Ernest Whipple. He is a litter brother ofRemus, but he is better developed and has a better coat. He is afirst-class specimen of the Llewellyn type, and though there are a fewpoints in which he falls below the strict bench-show standard, he is asplendid setter.
"The third prize, which will perhaps be better appreciated by itsrecipient than any of the others, is a box of dog biscuit. I hope,however, that it will not form his sole diet, as he is doubtlessaccustomed to a more varied and palatable menu. This prize is won byGypsie, smooth fox terrier, owned by Richard Wheaton. Gyp is a littleoff type in some respects, but I have decided that, according to myscore of points, he is the third best dog in the show."
Boston Terrier]
Mr. Hartshorn bowed and withdrew, while Mrs. Hartshorn remarked to afriend that she didn't believe he had ever made such a long speechbefore in his life. The spectators crowded around the winners tocongratulate the three boys and to pat and admire their dogs. Morethan one person in that barn had his or her eyes opened that d
ay forthe first time to the points of excellence of dog-flesh. Still, therewere some who stepped back to the bench where Rags sat, anuncomprehending spectator, and assured him that he was the best dog inthe show after all, and that he would have received the silver cup ifthey had been the judges. Ernest and Theron had never known a happierday of triumph, and even Dick Wheaton, who had received his prize witha supercilious smile, appeared to be a bit softened for the time beingand to show some pride in his ownership of the much-abused Gyp.
There were, indeed, some heart-burnings among the losers. HerbiePierson, for one, had had high hopes of Hamlet. But they had allagreed to accept the outcome like good sports and they could notremain long despondent in the face of the success of their show. Asfor Jack Whipple, the youngest exhibitor of all, he displayed a spiritthat the others would have been ashamed not to follow. He was franklypleased at the success of Romulus, and stoutly asserted that Remuswould have his big day yet. Mr. Fellowes was as much pleased as Ernestwas, and privately confided to him that he was glad Romulus didn't getfirst prize, as he would have been disappointed to see any other dogwearing that collar.
The people were beginning to file out of the barn, after a finaltour of the benches, when Mr. Hartshorn, standing beside the cashier'sbooth, once more called for order.
"As you know," he said in his strong voice, "the proceeds of this showare to be given to the Red Cross, and you may be interested to learnjust how much has been netted for that good cause by to-day's uniqueeffort on the part of the Boytown Humane Society. The treasurer,Theron Hammond, has been busy with arithmetic for the past twentyminutes and has an announcement to make."
Theron was suddenly stricken with stage fright, but he did not attemptto make a speech. He merely read the figures of his report.
"Entry fees for 26 dogs," he read, "$13.00. Attendance, 242. Gatereceipts, $60.50. Total receipts, $73.50. Advertising, $8.00. Otherexpenses, $2.67. Total expense, $10.67. Net proceeds, $62.83."
"I wonder," remarked Mr. Hartshorn to his wife, "if a dozen womencould knit $62.83 worth of mufflers in one day."
The exhibitors began taking their weary dogs home and the boys startedthe cleaning-up process that was part of their bargain with Mr.Morton. And so the great day ended.
The only fly in the ointment of Ernest and Jack Whipple was the factthat, although their father had been an enthusiastic spectatorthroughout the greater part of the afternoon, their mother had notseen fit to attend. She was very busy, she said, and anyway, dogs didnot particularly interest her.
Next morning the two local papers contained full accounts of the show,to the extent of a column or more, and they treated it as one of theseason's events of Boytown, giving the names of all the dogs and theirowners and a complete report of the awards, besides the treasurer'sreport. One of them even published an editorial praising the work ofthe Humane Society and suggesting that the town should be proud of itsboys and its dogs. Mr. Whipple and the boys devoured the contents ofthese papers eagerly before breakfast. After breakfast they found Mrs.Whipple reading one of them in the sitting-room.
"What are you reading, mother?" asked Mr. Whipple, but she was soabsorbed that she did not answer for a time.
At length she murmured, half to herself, "Hm! I don't see yet whyRemus didn't get a prize."
Whereat, it must be related, Mr. Whipple turned and winked at the boysin a most undignified manner.
The Dogs of Boytown Page 11
