Stoughton High School - Stotonian / Semaphore Yearbook (Stoughton, MA)

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STOUGHTON HIGH SCHOOL ing. Surely Whiskey would answer that, if he heard it. If he heard it, yes, but with 2,000 dogs all making individual noises, it would be hard to hear it. He became frantic. The perspiration rolled down his red, good-natured face as he went up and down every row searching in every bench. There were dogs, dogs, and more dogs. There were white ones, black ones, brown ones, red ones, gray ones, and spotted ones, but there was no Whiskey. A sob rose in his throat as he called in a tear-filled voice, Whiskey, old man, don ' t play hide-go-seek any more. His search was of no avail. He re- ported it to the office and it was an- nounced over the loud speaker. People were asked to report there immediate- ly if a black terrier was found answer- ing to the name of Whiskey. MacTav- ish haunted the office all morning but no word was heard about Whiskey. A third, and still a fourth time, he search- ed through the row of benches. The growing fear that had been in his heart now became a certainty. Whiskey hadn ' t gotten out on his own accord. Someone had taken him. But who? He strolled aimlessly through the halls all afternoon. Many sympathetic glances were cast his way. for by now the story of Whiskey ' s disappearance was well known. All of them knew how he must feel for they all had dogs of their own. They couldn ' t quite realize the terrible empty feeling in his heart, however, for few men are as close to their dogs as MacTavish was to Whiskey. In one of his wanderings he heard his name paged. His hope rose. It must be something about Whiskey. Frantically he tore open the note. But at the con- tents his face blanched. This is what the note said : Unless you pay us $1,500 by ten o ' clock tomorrow, your dog will not be returned to you. If you want him to be in the show pay us the money. We will inform you later in the day where to place it. Don ' t notify the police. It w do you no good and your dog will be killed. Poor MacTavish. $1500! They might as well have asked for ten times that. His last cents had gone into Whiskey. Where could he get the money. He knew nobody could get him this sum by ten in the morning. Frantically he racked his brain, but to no avail. He simply knew of no way to get this money. Wearily he trod out of the hall. He must go some place to be alone where he could think. He steered his course up the stairs to the balcony, where he sat down. Judging was going on down in the various rings, but he saw and heard none of it. All he could see was $1500 that he could not get. ' hat would they do to Whiskey? They wouldn ' t — he just couldn ' t finish the thought. Here he sat all afternoon. Waiting, yet dreading the second paging he knew he would get. It came. This message told him to wrap the money in an old paper bag and put it under the twentieth seat in row 53. He would afterwards find Whiskey downstairs in the pen, where he had been taken from. He was not to try any funny business because the dog ' s life would be the consequence. ' earily, MacTavish folded the note and thrust it into his pocket. He went down- stairs, secured his coat and started for his hotel. He called his friends as a last resort and tried to borrow money, but although they would like to. all he possibly could secure, when he sorrowfully figured it out, was about $510. This would do him no good. So he gratefully thanked them for their kind offers and went to bed. He was up at seven in the morning, hoping some last minute suggestion or idea would help him. He tried the loan offices but as he had no security they could not help him. He trudged wearily to the show. He secured a seat in the Patronize Semaphore Advertisers Pagre Nineteen

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THE SEMAPHORE waved its banner of victory. Yes, most decidedly, Whiskey at his best, was good enough. A shadow crossed MacTavish ' s face. If only Oh. well — what was the use? A fellow can ' t have everything. Everything to AlacTavish would mean W hiskey winning Best of Show while Edith watched them strut their stuff . But there was no Edith to watch and the sooner he became accustomed to it the better it would be for him. Edith had left him seven months previous, her only explanation being, I take sec- ond place to nobody. She had then gone on to explain that they were in the dog business she knew, but when MacTavish took the $3,000 that they had in the bank and had gone and bought a five months old puppy that he was going to make a world beater , she couldn ' t understand him at all. As if this hadn ' t been enough money to spend, he had proceeded to buy every- thing for that dog. He must be fed special food. He needed sun baths. He simply must have yeast, tomato, etc. To top it all off, lacTavish had insisted on spending three hours every day to train the dog to carry himself properly in the ring. After much sputtering, her frugal nature had got over the shock or at least MacTavish had thought so. W hiskey and she had become good friends. Alany a romp they had had to- gether by the lake neatly tucked away l:ehind their house. She had taken him for his first swimming lesson here at the age of eight months. Happily they had run home and she had told him about the cute antics Whiskey had gone through. During her recital, Whiskey had promptly proceeded to roll on his back and turn somersaults to show how pleased he was. with himself, and the rest of the world. But — MacTavish sighed, as he rememibered the change that had gradually come over her. No longer did Whiskey take his puppy woes and joys to her, for he had experienced many a slap for things that before had been rewarded with a smile. Consequent- ly, he hugged his woes to himself and moped around the house. Edith had be- come cross and irritable, which added more to Whiskey ' s discomfort. Finally, MacTavish had pleaded with her to change her tactics with the dog or she would ruin his show prospects. This was the occasion when she had packed and left and not a word had they heard from her. Whiskey and he had turned to each other for comfort. MacTavish had spent all of his spare moments on Whiskey. Whiskey must win in order to lessen the ache in MacTavish ' s heart. As these thoughts flew through his mind he decided not to hunt up his cronies but to go down and see how Whiskey was making out. A smile crossed his face and he limped down the last step and crossed the floor over to the pen. He looked into the pen but could see no sturdy little figure running around. The little bum, he thought. I bet he is taking a snooze in the cor- ner behind that pole. MacTavish crept softly over but no Whiskey lay out- stretched there. His heart missed a beat. Could Whiskey have gotten out through the gate? He climbed the stairs as fast as his bad leg would permit him. There were two young fellows standing at the top of the stairs. You haven ' t by any chance seen a Scotty running around up here, have you ? Xo, have you lost one? The little bum has sneaked out of the pen downstairs and has disappeared. ' ' Sorry, Mister, we ' ve been here for quite a while but we have not seen him. ' ' Thanks. Their last remark had frightened him. Where could he have gone. He searched through the hall. His frantic question was answered in the negative. He sent a clear, loud whistle through the build- Page Eighteen Patronize Semaphore Advertisers

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THE SEMAPHORE front row of the balcony. He might as well see the whole show he thought for it would undoubtedly be his last one. He gazed down into the ring and noticed that Best Terrier was now being picked. The stewards were calling the numbers of those who were to be in the ring. A sharp, burning hurt ran through his heart, when he heard number 455 be- ing called repeatedly. There would be no hiskey gaily strutting into the ring while ] IacTavish limped behind him pushing this number up on his left fore- arm. Xever again would Whiskey ' s gay tail wave its victorious way through a show. At the thought of this, a tear streaked unheeded down his brown cheek. Xever again would he wake up in the night to have a black nose thrust into his neck, inquiring what was the matter. There would be no mor e vocab- ulary lessons, as he had laughingly call- ed them, for there would be no more W hiskey to gaze adoringly up into his face and bark sharply when he was asked, Do you love me? The night- ly hide-and-seek game was forever over. Xo more would ' hiskey squeeze behind the dresser or under the bath tub to wait patiently until he was found and given his reward. The Sunday walk would no longer be a sacred rite, for it was Whiskey ' s gay scamperings through the bushes and his short, comical barks at birds that made his Sunday walk some- thing to look forward to. Xext Christ- mas would not be like last year. Whiskey had proudly consented to wear a red rib- bon for this special occasion. At least he had worn it half a day. He had play- fully pulled it off after that. There would be no stocking hanging there with odd-shaped Lundles addressed to Whiskey from Santa Claus. It had all been so silly and little-boyish, but ' Sla.c- Tavish now realized that it was the only thing that had kept him from breaking down after Edith ' s desertion. He had been so intent on his sad thoughts that he had not noticed a Page Twenty woman carrying a dog hurriedly into the ring and looking intently around. She spoke to the the judge and stewards and seemed to be pleading with them for something. The dog had meanwhile squatted down in the middle of the ring and a more woeful looking sight one could never imagine. His coat was spattered with mud. His tail hung de- jectedly between his legs and his ears drooped sorrowfully. The judge held up his hand and announced in a large, strong voice. If Mr. MacTavish of Scotch Hill Kennels is in the audience, will he please come here immediately? Slowly. MacTavish raised his head. Suddenly his eye lighted on the dog and he let out a yell that could be heard throughout the hall. The dog pricked up his ears and his tail gave a hopeful little wag. ] IacTavish raced down the stairs, three at a time. He pushed aside the curious staring people. He hurried- ly told the steward. I ' m 455. man. get that number card, I ' m 455. The man placed the number on his arm and he ran into the ring. A most pathetic scene followed. The terrier leaped with a bark into the out- stretched arms. His panting tongue licked the brown tear drenched face frantically, while weak moans came from his throat. The judge ' s voice commanding, Walk around. broke into their happy re- union. MacTavish fished into his pock- ets and brought out a collar and a lead with a quickness that asrain surprised Whiskey. He snapped it on and led Whiskey to the end of the line. Here he knelt for a minute or two. his stiff legs stretched out behind him. A quick search in his pocket produced a cloth and a comb. He hurriedly brushed oflF the mud and ran the comb through the black, wiry coat. Then with a dash they were going around the ring with the others. Whiskey ' s tail waved gayly as he proudly stepped around the ring. His eyes shone like stars, while his red Patronize Semaphore Advertisers