many shining cups on the shelves which Jimmy Jocks told me were
prizes won by the champions.

"Now, sir, might I ask you, sir," says I, "wot is a champion?"

At that he panted and breathed so hard I thought he would bust
hisself. "My dear young friend!" says he. "Wherever have you been
educated? 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. Now, what's your
registered name and number, for instance?" says he.

"I've only got one name," I says. "Just Kid."

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."