"You are some swell racer,
George," and, as one making a vow, "you can bet I'll never throw rocks
at another black cat so long as I live."
Shortly Bob and Bill arrived, well pleased that they were so close to
the Victor--but there was no sign of Jim; whereupon Mr. Kelly delivered
himself of a scathing comment. "I guess next time Jim 'd better enter
the High School Girls' Handicap; these real races ain't any place for
him."
The presentation of the tiny Trophy Cup was a formal function. George,
held up in the Judge's arms that he might be seen as he received it, was
filled not only with present pride, but also with an inward
determination to devote the rest of his existence to the high calling of
dog racing; with perhaps an occasional descent into the lower realms of
school affairs and business, as a concession to the wishes of his
parents and in deference to their age and old-fashioned ideas.
His happiness in the accomplishment of his dogs was complete. His hard
work in their training had been fully repaid; for Spot had not only
proved his cleverness as a leader, but Queen had been no worse than he
had anticipated, and Baldy had faithfully performed his duty as a
wheeler in keeping the trail when it was most necessary.
It was a triumph worth while for the boy and the team.
That night at a full meeting of the "Bow-Wow Wonder Workers," the
exciting affairs of the day were discussed at length.
Dan announced that he could recommend the Mego Pups to "Scotty" without
a single unfavorable criticism.
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