Now, under right conditions, an open-air dogshow is a thing of beauty and of joy. At such places as Tuxedo and one or two others it is a sight to be remembered. But in rainy weather,--especially in a tumultuous thunderstorm, it has not one redeeming feature.
The Beauville Show Committee,--like all experts in such matters, had taken this chance into account. Down the aisles of benches and through the questioning and scared groups of exhibitors ran attendants and officials; shouting that the Country Club polo stables and the wide spaces under the clubhouse verandas had been fitted up for emergency quarters, where the dogs might be housed, dry and safe, until the passing of the storm.
Up to the Master hurried a club page-boy.
"This way, sir!" he panted. "I saved a special box stall, in the first stable, for your collie.""YOU saved it?" queried the puzzled Master, while the Mistress began to unfasten Lad's leash. "How did you happen to do that?""I was told to, sir," answered the boy. "A--a gentleman told me to, just now. One of the of'cers of the club. I don't know his name. He showed me the stall; and he told me to take your dog there.""That's mighty, decent; whoever did it," said the Master, whistling the freed dog to him and setting forth in the boy's wake, toward the welcoming stables. "I wish you knew his name.
I'd like to thank him."
The stable was dim-lit, at best. Now, the gathering storm made it as dark as twilight. The box stall to which Lad was led was almost pitch black; its shuttered window being closed. Still, it was shelter. Leaving the Master and the Mistress to consign Lad to his new quarters, the boy scuttled of to a harness-room.
There, an eagerly-questioning man was awaiting him.
"Yep," broke in the boy, through a volley of inquiries. "I done it, all right, all right, Mr. Higham. They're moorin' him in Stall Five, right now. How about those two soft dollars? Hey?""You earned 'em, O. K.," grinned Higham. "Here you are.
Two,--count 'em, two. And now, chase along, sonny. I'm busy."He turned to a large bowl in which he had been mixing the contents of three or four bottles. And the boy saw his fingers were fiery red.
"What's the matter?" demanded the youngster, in high excitement.
"That's blood, ain't it?"
"No," denied Higham. "Blood's light red. This is crimson.
Remember the time we run in that joke on Daddy Price, by dipping his prize white leghorns in crimson dye, just before the Madison Square Garden Poultry Show? Well, this is the same stuff.""Do I remember it?" snickered the boy. "He was ragin', for fair.
Couldn't get it off, to save him. It stayed, that color, on 'em, till they'd shed the last one of last year's crop of feathers.
Sure, I remember. Why wouldn't I? Didn't I git a dollar for holdin' 'em for you? And another dollar for keepin' my mouth shut? But what are you lottin' to do with the stuff, this time?
No chickens here; or--"
"Nope," assented Higham. "No chickens here. Hold on, a second!"He stood, musing. Then he spoke.
"I was going to play a lone hand, on this," he said, presently.
"I didn't even dare let Rice in on it. He'd be dead-sure to tell that gabby girl he's going to marry. And it'd get all over the country in a week. And that'd lose me my job, if the boss heard of it. I was going to play it alone. That's why I left Rice and Willett to put up the dogs for me. But,--I'm blest if I know how I'm to hold him and dye him at the same time. He's as strong as an ox. You--you're a good, close-tongued kid, Harry. You kept your mouth shut about Price's chickens. Could you keep it shut,--for another dollar,--about this? If you'll do that, and lend me a hand--How about it?""What's the main idea?" asked the boy, much intrigued by the beauty of the dye on Higham's fingers; and squirming with embarrassed self-importance at the man's flattering tone. "I'll help out, all right. Only,--""Here's the notion," said Higham, coming out of momentary self-communion. "And if you ever spill it, your mail will be sent to you at the hosp't'l, for a spell. You saw that big dark sable collie I had you steer into Stall Five? It cost me another two dollars to get Abrams to let me have the use of that stall. The idea come to me, in a jolt, first crack of thunder I heard. Well, I'm due to 'get' that dog and the mucker who owns him, too. Them and I had a run-in, once; and I been honing for a chance to square things, ever since. I've seen 'em at shows and I've asked folks about 'em, too. He sets more store by that dog than he'd set by most humans. He's pleased as Punch, every time the collie hauls down a cup at one of these neighborhood shows. Well, that dog ain't going to be fit to go to another show, for a year. He ain't going to be fit to look at, for that long. He's going to be a laughing stock. His owners won't brag any more about him, neither. They'll be glad enough to keep him out of sight."The boy, listening with ever-widening eyes, chanced to shift his gaze to the big bowl of new-mixed dye. And a light broke on him.
"You--you're aimin' to soak him with that stuff?" he whispered, in awe at such combined courage and genius.
"Uh-uh," assented Higham. "I don't know what color the crimson stuff will turn the dark part of his coat. But whatever color it is, it'll be as funny as a box of three-tailed snakes. I've put a glass of ammonia into the dye, to make it 'set' quicker. It--""Gee, but you're a wonder!" sighed the worshiping boy. "D'ye s'pose I'll ever git to be as smart as you are?""It all depends on how you make use of your brains," returned Higbam, complacently. "But I was some smarter than you to begin with. I--""But--"
Higham went on, more briskly:
"I've got this bag to put over his head when I open the stall door. That'll put him out of the biting business, till it's peeled away from his jaws, after he's got a real good rubbing.
But he'll likely wriggle, a lot. And I'll need you to sit on his head. Likewise to carry this bowl and the sponge, while I'm opening the door and getting the bag over his head. Are you game?""I sure am!" breathed the enraptured boy.
