bruce- 第6部分

heroic　dignity　and　of　good　luck。



There　was　a　little　artificial　water…lily　pool　on　The　Place；

perhaps　four　feet　deep。　By　actual　count；　Bruce　fell　into　it　no

less　than　nine　times　in　a　single　week。　Once　or　twice　he　had

nearly　drowned　there　before　some　member　of　the　family　chanced　to

fish　him　out。　And；　learning　nothing　from　experience；　he　would

fall　in　again；　promptly；　the　next　day。



The　Master　at　last　rigged　up　a　sort　of　sloping　wooden　platform；

running　from　the　lip　of　the　pool　into　the　water；　so　that　Bruce

could　crawl　out　easily；　next　time　he　should　tumble　in。　Bruce

watched　the　placing　of　this　platform　with　much　grave　interest。

The　moment　it　was　completed；　he　trotted　down　it　on　a　tour　of

investigation。　At　its　lower　edge　he　slipped　and　rolled　into　the

pool。　There　he　floundered；　with　no　thought　at　all　of　climbing　out

as　he　had　got　in；　until　the　Master　rescued　him　and　spread　a　wire

net　over　the　whole　pool　to　avert　future　accidents。



Thenceforth；　Bruce　met　with　no　worse　mischance；　there；　than　the　…

perpetual　catching　of　his　toe…pads　in　the　meshes　of　the　wire。

Thus　ensnared　he　would　stand；　howling　most　lamentably；　until　his

yells　brought　rescue。



Though　the　pool　could　be　covered　with　a　net；　the　wide　lake　at　the

foot　of　the　lawn　could　not　be。　Into　the　lake　Bruce　would　wade

till　the　water　reached　his　shoulders。　Then　with　a　squeal　of

venturesome　joy；　he　would　launch　himself　outward　for　a　swim；　and；

once　facing　away　from　shore；　he　never　had　sense　enough　to　turn

around。



After　a　half…hour　of　steady　swimming；　his　soft　young　strength

would　collapse。　A　howl　of　terror　would　apprise　the　world　at　large

that　he　was　about　to　drown。　Whereat　some　passing　boatman　would

pick　him　up　and　hold　him　for　ransom；　or　else　some　one　from　The

Place　must　jump　into　skiff　or　canoe　and　hie　with　all　speed　to　the

rescue。　The　same　thing　would　be　repeated　day　after　day。



The　local　S。P。C。A。　threatened　to　bring　action　against　the　Master

for　letting　his　dog　risk　death；　in　this　way；　from　drowning。

Morbidly；　the　Master　wished　the　risk　might　verge　into　a

certainty。



The　puppy's　ravenous　appetite　was　the　wonder　of　all。　He　stopped

eating　only　when　there　was　nothing　edible　in　reach。　And　as　his

ideas　of　edible　food　embraced　everything　that　was　chewable；from

bath…towels　to　axle…greasehe　was　seldom　fasting　and　was

frequently　ill。



Nature　does　more　for　animals　than　for　humans。　By　a　single

experience　she　warns　them；　as　a　rule；　what　they　may　safely　eat

and　what　they　may　not。　Bruce　was　the　exception。　He　would　pounce

upon　and　devour　a　luscious　bit　of　laundry…soap　with　just　as　much

relish　as　though　a　similar　bit　of　soap　had　not　made　him　horribly

sick　the　day　before。



Once　he　munched；　relishfully；　a　two…pound　box　of　starch；　box　and

all；　on　his　recovery；　he　began　upon　a　second　box；　and　was　unhappy

when　it　was　taken　from　him。



He　would　greet　members　of　the　family　with　falsetto…thunderous

barks　of　challenge　as　they　came　down　the　drive　from　the　highway。

But　he　would　frisk　out　in　joyous　welcome　to　meet　and　fawn　upon

tramps　or　peddlers　who　sought　to　invade　The　Place。　He　could

scarce　learn　his　own　name。　He　could　hardly　be　taught　to　obey　the

simplest　command。　As　for　shaking　hands　or　lying　down　at　order

（those　two　earliest　bits　of　any　dog's　education）；　they　meant　no

more　to　Bruce　than　did　the　theory　of　quadratic　equations。



At　three　months　he　launched　forth　merrily　as　a　chicken…killer；

gleefully　running　down　and　beheading　The　Place's　biggest

Orpington　rooster。　But　his　first　kill　was　his　last。　The　Master

saw　to　that。



There　is　no　use　in　thrashing　a　dog　for　killing　poultry。　There　is

but　one　practically　sure　cure　for　the　habit。　And　this　one　cure

the　Master　applied。



He　tied　the　slain　rooster　firmly　around　Bruce's　furry　throat；　and

made　the　puppy　wear　it；　as　a　heavy　and　increasingly　malodorous

pendant；　for　three　warm　days　and　nights。



Before　the　end　of　this　seventy…two…hour　period；　Bruce　had　grown

to　loathe　the　sight　and　scent　of　chicken。　Stupid　as　he　was；　he

learned　this　lesson　with　absolute　thoroughness；as　will　almost

any　chicken…killing　pup；and　it　seemed　to　be　the　only　teaching

that　his　unawakened　young　brain　had　the　power　to　grasp。



In　looks；　too；　Bruce　was　a　failure。　His　yellowish…and…white　body

was　all　but　shapeless。　His　coat　was　thick　and　heavy　enough；　but

it　showed　a　tendency　to　curlalmost　to　kinkinstead　of　waving

crisply；　as　a　collie's　ought。　The　head　was　coarse　and　blurred　in

line。　The　body　was　gaunt；　in　spite　of　its　incessant　feedings。　As

for　contour　or　style



It　was　when　the　Master；　in　disgust；　pointed　out　these　diverse

failings　of　the　pup；　that　the　Mistress　was　wont　to　draw　on

historic　precedent　for　other　instances　of　slow　development；　and

to　take　in　vain　the　names　of　Thackeray；　Lincoln；　Washington　and

Bismarck　and　the　rest。



〃Give　him　time！〃　she　urged　once。　〃He　isn't　quite　six　months　old

yet；　and　he　has　grown　so　terribly　fast。　Why；　he's　over　two　feet

tall；　at　the　shoulder；　even　nowmuch　bigger　than　most　full…grown

collies。　Champion　Howgill　Rival　is　spoken　of　as　a　'big'　dog；　yet

he　is　only　twenty…four　inches　at　the　shoulder；　Mr。　Leighton　says。

Surely　it's　something　to　own　a　dog　that　is　so　big。〃



〃It　IS　'something；'〃　gloomily　conceded　the　Master。　〃In　our　case

it　is　a　catastrophe。　I　don't　set　up　to　be　an　expert　judge　of

collies；　so　maybe　I　am　all　wrong　about　him。　I'm　going　to　get

professional　opinion；　though。　Next　week　they　are　going　to　have

the　spring　dogshow　at　Hampton。　It's　a　little　hole…in…a…corner

show；　of　course。　But　Symonds　is　to　be　the　all…around　judge；

except　for　the　toy　breeds。　And　Symonds　knows　collies；　from　the

ground　up。　I　am　going　to　take　Bruce　over　there　and　enter　him　for

the　puppy　class。　If　he　is　any　good；　Symonds　will　know　it。　If　the

dog　is　as　worthless　as　I　think　he　is；　I'll　get　rid　of　him。　If

Symonds　gives　any　hope　for　him；　I'll　keep　him　on　a　while　longer。〃



〃But；〃　ventured　the　Mistress；　〃if　Symonds　says　'Thumbs　down；'

then〃



〃Then　I'll　buy　a　pet　armadillo　or　an　ornithorhynchus　instead；〃

threatened　the　Master。　〃Either　of　them　will　look　more　like　a

collie　than　Bruce　does。〃



〃II　wonder　if　Mr。　Symonds　smokes；〃　mused　the　Mistress　under　her

breath。



〃Smokes？〃　echoed　the　Master。　〃What's　that　got　to　do　with　it？〃



〃I　was　only　wondering；〃　she　made　hesitant　answer；　〃if　a　box　of

very　wonderful　cigars；　sent　to　him　with　our　cards；　mightn't

perhaps〃



〃It's　a　fine　sportsmanly　proposition！〃　laughed　the　Master。　〃When

women　get　to　ruling　the　world　of　sport；　there'll　be　no　need　of

comic　cartoons。　Genuine　photographs　will　do　as　well。　If　it's　just

the　same　to　you；　dear　girl；　we'll　let　Symonds　buy　his　own　cigars；

for　the　present。　The　dog…show　game　is　almost　the　only　one　I　know

of　where　a　judge　is　practically　always　on　the　square。　People

doubt　his　judgment；　sometimes；　but　there　is　practically　never　any

doubt　of　his　honesty。　Besides；　we　want　to　get　the　exact　dope　on

Bruce。　（Not　that　I　haven't　got　it；　already！）　If　Symonds　'gates'

him；　I'm　going　to　offer　him　for　sale　at　the　show。　If　nobody　buys

him　there；　I'm　going〃



〃He　hasn't　been　'gated'　yet；〃　answered　the　Mistress　in　calm

confidence。



At　the　little　spring　show；　at　Hampton；　a　meager　eighty　dogs　were

exhibited；　of　which　only　nine　were　collies。　This　collie　division

contained　no　specimens　to　startle　the　dog…world。　Most　of　the

exhibits　were　pets。　And　like　nearly　all　pets；　they　were

〃seconds〃in　other　words；　the　less　desirable　dogs　of

thoroughbred　litters。



Hampton's　town　hall　auditorium　was　filled　to　overcrowding；　with　a

mass　of　visitors　who　paraded　interestedly　along　the　aisles

between　the　raised　rows　of　stall…like　benches　where　the　dogs　were

tied；　or　who　grouped　densely　around　all　four　sides　of　the　roped

judging…ring　in　the　center　of　the　hall。



For　a　dogshow　has　a　wel…nigh　universal　appeal　to　humanity　at

large；　even　as　the　love　for　dogs　is　one　of　the　primal　and　firm…

rooted　human　emotions。　Not　only　the　actual　exhibitor　and　their

countless　friends　flock　to　such　shows；　but　the　public　at　large　is

drawn　thither　as　to　no　other　function　of　the　kind。



Horse…racing；　it　is　true；　brings　out　a　crowd　many　times　larger

than　does　a　dogshow。　But　only　because　of　the　thrill　of　winning　or

losing　money。　For　where　one's　spare　cash　is；　there　is　his　heart

and　his　all…absorbing　interest。　Yet　it　is　a　matter　of　record　that

grass　is　growing　high；　on　the　race…tracks；　in　such　states　as　have

been　able　to　enforce　the　anti…betting　laws。　The　〃sport　of　kings〃

flourishes　only　where　wagers　may　accompany　it。　Remove　the　betting

element；　and　you　turn　your　racetrack　into　a　huge　and　untrodden

lot。



There　is　practically　no　betting　connected　with　any　dogshow。

People　go　there　to　see　the　dogs　and　to　watch　their　judging；　and

for　nothing　else。　As　a　rule；　the　show　is　not　even　a　social　event。

Nevertheless；　the　average　dogshow　is　thronged　with　spectators。

（Try　to　cross　Madison　Square　Garden；　on　Washington's　Birthday

afternoon；　while　the　Westminster　Kennel　Club's　Show　is　in

progress。　If　you　can　work　your　way　through　the　press　of　visitors

in　less　than　half　an　hour；　then　Nature　intended　you　for　a

football　champion。）



The　fortunate　absence　of　a　betting…interest　alone　keeps　such

affairs　from　becoming　among　the　foremost　sporting　features　of　the

world。　Many　of　the　dogs　on　view　are　fools；　of　course。　Because

many　of　them　have　been　bred　solely　with　a　view　to　show…points。

And　their　owners　and　handlers　have　done　nothing　to　awaken　in

their　exhibits　the　half…human　brain　and　heart　that　is　a　dog's

heritage。　All　has　been　sacrificed　to　〃points〃to　points　which

are　arbitrary　and　which　change　as　freakily　as　do　fashions　in

dress。



For　example；　a　few　years　ago；　a　financial　giant　collected　and

exhibited　one　of　the　finest　bunches　of　collies　on　earth。　He　had　a

competent　manager　and　an　army　of　kennel…men　to　handle　them。　He

took　inordinat