If the men did really loose all these dogs and they should fly at one another’s throats, he made up his mind that he would get a good hold on the throat of a bulldog who had growled at him as he passed, and not let go until the cross fellow had apologized.
Presently they stopped before a man in a small booth, who asked a lot of tiresome questions about Pep. He wanted his age, weight, breeding and many more facts, which the master patiently gave him.
Finally Pep was given a number, 223, and they passed along.
They passed by St. Bernard street, Newfoundland street, Collie street and finally down to the smaller dogs, until they came to the terriers, where they located permanently in Bull Terrier street. There were about forty dogs here, tied in a double row, with a broad walk between the rows. Here the master tied Pep in his own stall and told him to be a good dog, and went to look for some friends.
For the first five minutes the dogs in Bull Terrier street were very disrespectful to Pep and called him all the bad names in the dog dictionary, but seeing how goodnatured he was, they soon ceased their jollying and asked him where he came from, what his master’s name was, and what his name was. Presently he was on speaking terms with the dogs on either side of him.
“It is a very fast class, Pep old boy,” said a sleek terrier across the street. “If the judge so much as looks at you you will be lucky.”
“My master says I am a sure winner, but I am not saying anything about it.”
“You’ve told each newcomer for the past two hours,” growled a savage looking bull terrier next to him. “If I could only slip my collar, I would fix you so that the judge would kick you out of the ring. You have got too many airs, my fine fellow.” At this harsh threat the dandy slunk back in his corner and finally lay down and pretended he was asleep, but Pep knew he was just shamming.
It seemed an eternity before his master reappeared, but he was not really gone more than an hour. When he came back he had another doctor with him, whom Pep knew well. He was the master of Pep’s friend, Larry, a clever Irish terrier, who had also come to the show.
Presently there was great commotion in Bull Terrier street. Men came from every direction and unchained their dogs. Some put them on fancy show leashes, and they were led away to the show ring.