Richard Harding Davis

“ Then suddenly men comes hurrying down our street and begins to brush the beautiful bull-terriers, and Nolan rubs me with a towel so excited that his hands trembles awful, and Miss Dorothy tweaks my ears between her gloves, so that the blood runs to 'em, and they turn pink and stand up straight and sharp. ”

“ A champion is a—a champion,” he says. “He must win nine blue ribbons in the 'open' class. You follow me—that is—against all comers. Then he has the title before his name, and they put his photograph in the sporting papers. You know, of course, that I am a champion,” says he. “I am Champion Woodstock Wizard III., and the two other Woodstock Wizards, my father and uncle, were both champions.”
“But I thought your name was Jimmy Jocks,” I said. He laughs right out at that.
“That's my kennel name, not my registered name,” he says. “Why, you certainly know that every dog has two names. ”

“ Bernard, his name was Champion Red Elfberg, had broke his chain, and was running their way. When he reaches old Jimmy Jocks he lets out a roar like a grain-steamer in a fog, and he makes three leaps for him. ”

“ You can't fool the judges. They see insides you.
But he couldn't make up his mind about them high-bred dogs. He scowls at 'em, and he glares at 'em, first with his head on the one side and then on the other. And he feels of 'em, and orders 'em to run about. And Nolan leans against the rails, with his head hung down, and pats me. And Miss Dorothy comes over beside him, but don't say nothing, only wipes her eye with her finger. A man on the other side of the rail he says to the Master, “The Judge don't like your dog?” ”

“ When I see two dogs standing on their hind-legs in the streets, clawing each other's ears, and snapping for each other's windpipes, or howling and swearing and rolling in the mud, I feel sorry they should act so, and pretend not to notice. If he'd let me, I'd like to pass the time of day with every dog I meet. But there's something about me that no nice dog can abide. When I trot up to nice dogs, nodding and grinning, to make friends, they always tell me to be off. ”

“ And the handlers have to hold 'em back so that the gentlemen from the papers can make pictures of me, and Nolan walks me up and down so proud, and the men shakes their heads and says, “He certainly is the true type, he is!” And the pretty ladies asks Miss Dorothy, who sits beside me letting me lick her gloves to show the crowd what friends we is, “Aren't you afraid he'll bite you?” and Jimmy Jocks calls to me, “Didn't I tell you so! I always knew you were one of us. Blood will out, Kid, blood will out. I saw your grandfather,” says he, “make his début at the Crystal Palace. ”

“ I don't think the handlers treated me quite right that time, but maybe they didn't know the Ottawa dog was dead. I did.
I learned my fighting from my mother when I was very young. We slept in a lumber-yard on the river-front, and by day hunted for food along the wharves. When we got it, the other tramp-dogs would try to take it off us, and then it was wonderful to see mother fly at them, and drive them away. All I know of fighting I learned from mother, watching her picking the ash-heaps for me when I was too little to fight for myself. No one ever was so good to me as mother. ”

“ I could not help thinking that if Woodstock Wizard III. tried to follow a fire-engine he would die of apoplexy, and that, seeing he'd lost his teeth, it was lucky he had no taste for fighting, but, after his being so condescending, I didn't say nothing.
“Anyway,” says he, “every smooth-coated dog is better than any hairy old camel like those St. Bernards, and if ever you're hungry down at the stables, young man, come up to the house and I'll give you a bone. I can't eat them myself, but I bury them around the garden from force of habit, and in case a friend should drop in. ”

“ It was my stylish overcoat done that, and I curse it proper, but I gets my pats again quick, and makes a rush for the fighting. Behind me I hear Miss Dorothy cry, “They'll kill that old dog. Wait, take my whip. Beat them off her! The Kid can take care of himself,” and I hear Nolan fall into the road, and the horse come to a stop. The old lady-dog was down, and the three was eating her vicious, but as I come up, scattering the pebbles, she hears, and thinking it's one more of them, she lifts her head and my heart breaks open like someone had sunk his teeth in it. ”

“ No one talked of nothing but the Show, and the chances “our kennels” had against the other kennels, and if this one of our champions would win over that one, and whether them as hoped to be champions had better show in the “open” or the “limit” class, and whether this dog would beat his own dad, or whether his little puppy sister couldn't beat the two of them. Even the grooms had their money up, and day or night you heard nothing but praises of “our” dogs, until I, being so far out of it, couldn't have felt meaner if I had been running the streets with a can to my tail. ”

“ I could kill most of them with three shakes, breaking the back-bone of the little ones, and squeezing the throat of the big ones. But what's the good? They are nice dogs; that's why I try to make up to them, and though it's not for them to say it, I am a street-dog, and if I try to push into the company of my betters, I suppose it's their right to teach me my place.
Of course, they don't know I'm the best fighting bull-terrier of my weight in Montreal. ”

“ I says. “Just Kid.”
"I suppose I'm the ugliest bull-dog in America"
Woodstock Wizard puffs at that and wrinkles up his forehead and pops out his eyes.
“Who are your people?” says he. “Where is your home?”
“At the stable, sir,” I said. “My Master is the second groom.”
At that Woodstock Wizard III. looks at me for quite a bit without winking, and stares all around the room over my head.
“Oh, well,” says he at last, “you're a very civil young dog,” says he, “and I blame no one for what he can't help,” which I thought most fair and liberal. ”

“ Wyndham, sir,” very short.
“'Es only a puppy, sir,” says my new Master; “'e wouldn't go outside the stables, sir.”
“It's not that,” says “Mr. Wyndham, sir;” “I have a large kennel of very fine dogs; they're the best of their breed in America. I don't allow strange dogs on the premises.”
The Master shakes his head, and motions me with his cap, and I crept out from behind the door. “I'm sorry, sir,” says the Master. “Then I can't take the place. I can't get along without the dog, sir.” ”

“ Such stables I never did see.
“Nolan,” says the head-groom, “some day that dog of yours will give you the slip. You can't keep a street-dog tied up all his life. It's against his natur'.” The head-groom is a nice old gentleman, but he doesn't know everything. Just as though I'd been a street-dog because I liked it. As if I'd rather poke for my vittles in ash-heaps than have 'em handed me in a wash-basin, and would sooner bite and fight than be polite and sociable. If I'd had mother there I couldn't have asked for nothing more. ”

“ The Kid's worth a fiver.”
One of my eyes was not so swelled up as the other, and as I hung by my tail, I opened it, and saw one of the pals take the groom by the shoulder.
“You ought to give 'im five pounds for that dog, mate,” he says; “that's no ordinary dog. That dog's got good blood in him, that dog has. Why, his father—that very dog's father——”
I thought he never would go on. He waited like he wanted to be sure the groom was listening.
“That very dog's father,” says the pal, “is Regent Royal, son of Champion Regent Monarch, champion bull-terrier of England for four years.” ”

“ And each one he put down, but he never put my father down. And then he comes over and picks up me and sets me back on the platform, shoulder to shoulder with the Champion Regent Royal, and goes down on his knees, and looks into our eyes.
The gentleman with my father, he laughs, and says to the Judge, “Thinking of keeping us here all day. John?” but the Judge, he doesn't hear him, and goes behind us and runs his hand down my side, and holds back my ears, and takes my jaws between his fingers. The crowd around the ring is very deep now, and nobody says nothing. ”

“ You're the image of your grand-dad when he made his début at the Crystal Palace. He took four firsts and three specials.” But I knew he was only trying to throw heart into me. They might scrub, and they might rub, and they might pipe-clay, but they couldn't pipe-clay the insides of me, and they was black-and-tan.
Then we came to a Garden, which it was not, but the biggest hall in the world. Inside there was lines of benches, a few miles long, and on them sat every dog in the world. If all the dog-snatchers in Montreal had worked night and day for a year, they couldn't have caught so many dogs. ”

“ But kicks will stiffen the muscles, and starving a dog so as to get him ugly-tempered for a fight may make him nasty, but it's weakening to his insides, and it causes the legs to wabble.
The ring was in a hall, back of a public-house. There was a red-hot whitewashed stove in one corner, and the ring in the other. I lay in the Master's lap, wrapped in my blanket, and, spite of the stove, shivering awful; but I always shiver before a fight; I can't help gettin' excited. ”

“ The more he stares at us now, the more solemn he gets, and when he touches us he does it gentle, like he was patting us. For a long time he kneels in the sawdust, looking at my father and at me, and no one around the ring says nothing to nobody. ”

“ I don't fight because I like it. I fight because if I didn't the other dog would find my throat, and the Master would lose his stakes, and I would be very sorry for him and ashamed. Dogs can pass me and I can pass dogs, and I'd never pick a fight with none of them. ”

“ I couldn't scratch myself comfortable, without Nolan giving me nasty drinks, and rubbing me outside till it burnt awful, and I wasn't let to eat bones for fear of spoiling my “beautiful” mouth, what mother used to call my “punishing jaw,” and my food was cooked special on a gas-stove, and Miss Dorothy gives me an overcoat, cut very stylish like the champions', to wear when we goes out carriage-driving. ”

“ I couldn't shake him, but I shook myself, and every time I shook myself there was thirty pounds of weight tore at his windpipes. I couldn't see nothing for his long hair, but I heard Jimmy Jocks puffing and blowing on one side, and munching the brute's leg with his old gums. Jimmy was an old sport that day, was Jimmy, or, Woodstock Wizard III., as I should say. When the Red Elfberg was out and down I had to run, or those kennel-men would have had my life. They chased me right into the stables ”

“ But he holds me tight.
“He's not for sale,” he growls, like he was frightened, and the man looks black and walks away.
“Why, Nolan!” cries Miss Dorothy, “Mr. Polk knows more about bull-terriers than any amateur in America. What can he mean? Why, Kid is no more than a puppy! Three hundred dollars for a puppy!”
“And he ain't no thoroughbred neither!” cries the Master. “He's 'Unknown,' ain't he? Kid can't help it, of course, but his mother, Miss——”
I dropped my head. I couldn't bear he should tell Miss Dorothy. I couldn't bear she should know I had stolen my blue ribbon. ”

“ They were the biggest St. Bernards I ever did see. I could have walked under them if they'd have let me. But they were very proud and haughty dogs, and looked only once at me, and then sniffed in the air. The little lady's own dog was an old gentleman bull-dog. He'd come along with us, and when he notices how taken aback I was with all I see, 'e turned quite kind and affable and showed me about.
“Jimmy Jocks,” Miss Dorothy called him, but, owing to his weight, he walked most dignified and slow, waddling like a duck as you might say, and looked much too proud and handsome for such a silly name. ”

“ Bernard marked “Champion.” “And when my rheumatism is not troubling me,” he says, “I endeavor to be civil to all dogs, so long as they are gentlemen.”
“Yes, sir,” said I, for even to me he had been most affable. ”

“ 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. ”