Evening Star Newspaper, February 6, 1921, Page 58

T INE ENEMY'S DOG RATERNITY has not changed In lifted and he looked my way. 1 save a hundred years; yet is there always some new thing in Fra- | ternity. It may be only that Lee Motley's sow has killed her pigs, or that choleric old man Varney has larruped his thirty-year-old son W th an ax helve, or that Jean Bubier has bpught six yearling steers. But there 14 always some word of news, for the “nightly intgrchange in Will Bissell store, before the stage comes in With the mail. ¥ou may see the men gather there, a little after milking time, com- ing from the clean. white houses that are strung Tike beads along the five roads which lead into the village. A muscular, competent lot of men in their comfortable, homely garments. And they sit about the stove, and talk. and smoke, and spit, and laugh at the that are told. (.;::ll::nlty lies in a country of little towns and villages, with curious names something more than a century old. Liberty is west of Fraternity. Union is to_the southward, gFreedom and Equality lie north and west. Well enough named, these villages, too. Life in them flows easily; there is no great striving after more things than one man can use. The men are con- tent to get their gardening quickly done so that they may trail the brooks for trout; they hurry with their win- ter's wood to find free time for wood- cock and pa’tridge: and when the snow lies, they go into the woods with trap for mink or hound for fox. Thirty years ago there were farms around Fraternity, and the Jand was clear; but young men have gone, 13 Then have died, and the birches and the alders and the pines have taken back the land. There are moose d deer in the swamps. and a wild- cat or two, and up in Freedom a man killed a béar a year ago. S TRE Hills brood over these villages, Blue and deeper blue from fange to farther-range. There is a bold loveliness about the land. The for- ests, blotched darkly with evergreens or lightly splattered with the gay tops of the birches, clothe the ridges in garments of somber beauty. Toward sunset a man may stand upon these hilltops and look westward into the purple of the hills and the crimson of the sky until his eyes are drunk with looking. Or in the dark shadows down along the river he may listen to the trembMng silences until he hears his pulses pound. And now and then. with a sense of unreality, you will come upon a deer along some old wood road; or a rabbit will fluster from some bush and rise on haunches, twenty yards away. ~The talk in Will Bissell's store :turns, night by night, upon these crea- tures of the woods that lie about the town; and by the same token the talk is filled with speech concerning dogs. The cult of the dog is strong in Fra- térnity. Every man has one dog. some have two. These. you will understand, are T dogs. No mongrels here; no sneaking, hungry, yapping curs. Pre- dominant. the English setter, gentlest and kindest and best natured of all in second place, the lop- A rabbit hound here more _often. low-bodied, heavy dogs that will nev- ertheless nose out a fox and push him for mile on mile. These are not such fox hounds as run in packs for the sport of red-coated men. These are utilitarian dogs; their function is fox moving until the hunter can pést himself for a shot. A fox skin is worth money; and cash money is scarce in roity, as in little towns, and very h to_come by, ‘There are few sheep in Fraternity, @0 the dogs are free of that tempta- tion; but there are deer. The deer to be taken only with rifie and ball, and by a woodcraft that bests the wi thing st its own game. No dog may chase & deer; and fence and dogs the ‘pevértheless, W for the dogs of Fra- k and shameful crime. ‘were Village or_three from outlying Bert Saladine, both deer, who killed by year, leaned the candy eonnrt‘or. c > had driven down above the Whitcher Jean Bubier had come in of the Pond; and there ; and there was George anl two or three besides. Proutt was one of these others, Proutt of South Praternity, a farmer. a fox hunter, and a trainer of setter dogs. Finally Niek Westley, a North Fra- ternity man, .appointed within six months’ time to be game warden for the district; & gentleman well liked in spite of his thankless job; a man ‘with a sensé of humor, a steady and reistent and a kindly night; as it happened, was to the begpinning of the enmity. be- tween Proutt ‘Westley. One-sided at first, this ill feeling. Two-sided at the last, and bitter enough on either side. A strange thing, dramatic enough in its development, fit to be numbered tales Proutt, the dog trainer, was a man who kaew None denied him that. “Yes,” they would say; “Prout’ll a dog for you. And when he gits done with your dog, your dog’ll mind.” If you scented some reserva- tion in word or tone, and asked a question. you got no explanation. But your informant might ssy casually: “Hepperton’s & good man with a dog, too. Over in Liberty. Gentles "em.” Persistent inquiry might have brought out thefact that Hepperton never whipped a dog; that Proutt knew no other method. Lee Motley, who loved dogs. used to tell an inoi dent. “When out with Proutt once,’ he would explain. “After woodcock, we was. He was breaking a two- year-old. N a dog as I ever see. First bird, she took a nice point; but she broke shot. He had him a raw- hide strap; and he called her in and 1 never see a dog hurt worse. after that he couldn’t from under his legs. A with him since. Not me.” Proutt was not liked. He was a mo- rose man, and severe, and known to nurse a grudge. But he turned out dogs which knew their business, and none denled him this. So had he his measure of respect; and his neighbore minded their own affalrs and kept out of the man’'s h path. Curiously enough, though he trained setters, Proutt did not like them. He preferred the hound; and his own dog (a lop-eared brown-and-white named Pan) was his particular pride. Thi pride was like the pride of a ne father: it showed itself in much talk Dan's deeds and Dan's virtues, so that Fraternity's ears were wearied with the name of Dan, and it was the fashion to grin in one's sleeve at Proutt’s tales and to discredit them. * *x % % OUTT spoke, this night, of a day’s hunting of the winter before. sHow, coursing the woods, he had heard a hound’s bay far below him, and had taken post upon a ledge across which he thought the fox would come. Dan ‘ys with me,” he said. in his hoarse, Joud voice. “I says to Dan: ‘Set,’ and he set on his ha'nches, right aside me, cBcking his nose down where t'other doll was baying, walting, wise as an ow had my old gun, with number threes in both bar'ls: and me and Dan miayed there, awaiting: and the bay- ing come nearer all the time, till I see the fox would come acrost that ledge, sure. “Cold it was. Wind ablowin much snow on the ground; but it was froze hard as sand. I figured Dan'd get uneasy; but he never stirred. Set Where I'd told him to set; and us awaitin - “Time come, I see the fox, sneaking up the ledge at that long. eesy lope o' helrs. Lun see him, tov. His cars And| {‘Set” And he let his ears down again. | and stayed still. Fox come along, ‘Bout five rods below us. Crossed | over there. So fur away 1 knowed I | couldn’t drop him. Never pulled: and | he never saw me; and old Dan set | where he was. Never moved a m | “After a spell, Will Belter's hound come past; and then come Will him- self, cutting down from where he'd been waiting. Says: ‘See a fox go by.' | And 1 told him I did. He ast w didn’t shoot; and I says the fox too fur off. your dog¥ So I told him Dan was setting right by me.” a_triumphant hand upon his knee. ‘Will wouldn't believe me,” he de clared, “till 1 showed him tracks, where we wuz. and where the fox went by." He looked around for their admira- tion; but no one =poke at all. Only one ‘or two glanced sidewise at each other, and siowly grinned. The tale was all right, except for a thing or | two. In the first place, Proutt was {no man to let a fox go by, no matter how long the shot; and, in the second place, Dan was known to be a surly dog, not overly obedient, unruly his master. And. in the third place, this incident, thoroughly authenti- cated, had happened years before to another man and another dog, as every one in the store know. Proutt had borrowed his tale from a source oo close home. So they knew he lied: but no one cared to tell him so. Only, after a lit- tle silence, Nick Weatley, the game warden, said with a slow twinkle in his eye: “Proutt, that reminds me of a story my father used to tell.” Proutt grunted something or other, disgusted with their lack of apprecia- tion; and Westley took it for encour- agement. and began to whittle slow, fine shavings from a sliver of pine which he held in hand, and told the tale. * ¥k % k| GJT was when he was younger.” he expiained, “before he was mar- ried, while he still lived at home. But I've heard him tell the story many a time. “My Uncle Jim was living then; and he and my father had a hound. jood dog he was, too. Good as Dan, ink, Proutt. ‘Well, one winter morning. with six or eight inches of loose snow on the ground, they were working up some wood in the shed: and they saw the old hound drift off into the pasture and up the hill. And after a spell they heard him yelling down by 'the river. “Jim said to my father: ‘He's got a fox.' And father said: ‘Jim, let's go get that fox.’ So they dropped their axes and went in and got their guns, and they worked up through the pas- ture and over the hill till they located the dog’s noise, and they figured the fox would come up around the hill by a certain way; and so they posted themselves there, ome on either side of the path they thought he would take. And set to waiting. And it was cold as could be, and cold waiting, and they stamped their feet a little, but they couldn’t move much for fear the fox would see them. “So they were both well pleased when they saw the fox coming; and they both shot when he came in range, Decause they were cold and in a hurry full of and my father sal ‘Mine, too, you clumsy coot” So made remarks to each other for a spell; and then Jim said: ‘Well, any- way, there's the fox; and I'm full of your shot, and I'm half frosze. Let’ skin the darned critter and get hom “So father agreed; and they went at it. The old dog had come up by then, and was sitting there with an eye on the fox, as a dog will. And father took the front le and Jim took the hind legs, and they worked fast. And they kept cussing their hurts, and the cold, and each other. But they slit the legs down, and skinned out the tail, and trimmed up the ears and all, knives flying. And ;fi;n they got about done, Jim, he “ ‘Kook ahere, there’s not a bullet in this fox." “Well, they looked and they couldn’t find a hble. Only there was a blue streak across the fox's head where a bullet had gone. And that was queer enough, but father said: ‘I don’t give & hoot. There’s bullets enough in me. Skin out his nose and let's go." “So they cussed each other some more, and finished it up; and Jim, he heaved the carcass out into the brush, and father slung the skin over his shoulder, and they turned around to start home. “Well, just about then the old dog let out behind them, they whirled around. And father always used to say that, mad as they were at each other, they forgot all about it then; and they bust out laughing. He said you couldn’t blame them. He said you never saw anything funnier. “You see, that fox was just stunned. The cold snow must have revived him. Because when my father and Uncle Jim looked around, that skinless fox was going up over the hill iike a cat =Dll ee—and the old dog hot on his ee! * % % % THB store rocked with their mirth as Westley stopped. Lee Motley roared, and the Saladines laughed in their silent fashion, and Will Bissell chuckled discreetly behind Proutt's back. Westley himself displayed such surprise at their mirth that they laughed the more; and fat little Jean Brll’:écr shook a finger at Proutt and cried: “And that will put the bee to your Dan, M'sieu Proutt. That will hold your Dan for one leetle while, I t'ink.” Proutt himself was brick-red with fury; and his eyes were black on ‘Westley; but he pulled himself to- gether, and he laughed. Shortly. s eyes did not leave Westley's face. And Lee Motley found a chance to warn the warden a little later. “It was a good joke,” he said. “You handed it to him right. But look out for the man, Westley. He's mad.” Westle i1l g, was never- |X(m sorry, id Motley. The warden nodded, consideri “I'll tell you,” he told Motley. “I'll square it with him.” “If it was me,” Motley agreed, ‘would.” Westley did not like to make ene- mies. And there been only the friendliest malice in his jest. He took his measures to soothe Proutt before they left the store that night. Westley had a dog, a setter, clean- blooded. from one of the country’s finest kennels. A New York man who had shot woodcock with the warden the year before had sent the dog as a friendly gift, and Westley accepted it in the same apirit. In its second year and still untrained, it had neverthe- less won Westley and won his wife and his children. They all loved the dog. as they loved each other. Originally this dog had been called Rex. The Westleys changed this name to Reck, which may be short for Reck- less, or may be a name by itself. At any rate, it pleased them, and it Ppleased the dog. ‘The dog was untrained and Westley had no time for the arduous work of training. He had meant to send Reck, this fall, to Hepperton in Liberty, but, to make his amends to Proutt. he took the latter aside this night and asked Proutt to take the training of the dog. On longer consideration he might not have done this, but Westley was a man of impulse and. as has been said, he was anxious to keep Proutt as a friend. vertheless, he had no sooner asked Proutt to e the dog than he regretted it, and hoped Proutt would refuse. But the dog trainer only gave a2 moment to slow consid- eration, with downcast eyes. '5Then he said huskily: ‘Sure,” said Westley. “He's a well blooded dog,” said 'I,“ro\nl. “I'll come tomorrow and fetch m. And with no further word—they were outside the store—he drove away. Westley, watching him go, was filled with vague disquie He wished he might withdraw; he wish- ed Proutt would change his mind; he wished the trainer might not come { next day. But Proutt did come, and Westley charge And he says: ‘Where was | Proutt laughed harshly. and slapped | I HE SUNDAY STAR, FEBRUARY 6. TR A Story b}lr Ben Ames Williatps . 1921_PART 4. | “PROUTT TURNED PALE AS ASHES, FOR HOT ON THE DEER’S TRAIL CAME THE DOG HE HAD SENT AWAY."[ —_— ——-—ms M\ ——_— himself bade Reck into $he trainer's buggy and watched the d6g ride away with wistful eyes turned backward. Westley's wife was more concerned than he; and he forgot his own anx- iety in reassurange her. There are a thousand methods for the training of a bird dog, and each man prefers his own. There are some dogs which need much training; there are others which require little or none. Reck was 80 nobly blggded that the instincts of his craft ‘were deeply bedded in him. On his firgt day in the alder swamps with Proutt he proved himself to the full. Proutt was a do beater, as all men knovw: but he did not beat dogs which obeyed him, and he did not beat Reck. This first day he was merely trying the dog. Reck found a bird and took staunch point, steady as a rock. It was not yet October, the season was mnot yet open; and so Proutt had no right to shoot. Nevertheless, he did walk up this bird, and flushed it from where it lay, six feet before Reck’s nose, and knocked it over before it topped the alders. Reck stood at point till the bird ros: it, his nose followed it upward, fol- lowed its fall. * * ¢ But he did not stir, did not break shot; and Proutt, watching, knew that this was indeed a dog. & When the bird had fallen, Proutt said softly: “Reck! Fetch dead bird.” Now, this is in some measure the test of a setter. setters which take a natural point and hold it; there are some few which are also natural retrievers without training. Reck had been taught by Westley's children to fetch sticks or rocks at command. He knew the word. He went swiftly forward and brought the woodcock, scare ruffled, and laid it in Proutt's hand. And Proutt took the bird, and stood still, looking down at Reck with a darkly brooding face. Considering, weighing. e "« o After a little he began to curse softly, under his breath; and he turned and stamped out of the alder run, and bade Reck to heel, and went home. And Reck trotted at his heels, tongue out, panting happily. * & & There are many ways by which the devil may come at a man. One of them is through hatred, and another way is to put a helpless thing in that man’s hands. If the good in him out- welghs the bad, well enough; but if the evil has ascendancy, then that man is utterly lost and damned. Proutt hated Westley; Proutt had in his hands Reck, a dog by Westley well-beloved. And Reck was pliant in Proutt's hands, both because Proutt knew dogs and because Reck was by nature tractable, eager to please, anx. jous to do that which he was asked to do. _The combination presented itself to Proutt full clearly, as he walked his homeward way that day, and it is to be supposed that he fought out what fight there was within himself during that long walk, and through the evening that followed. That Proutt had some battle with himself cannot bo denied. No man sets out to destroy a soul without first overcoming the scruples which bind him; and there were scruples in Proutt. There must have been. He loved dogs, loved fine dogs, and Reck was fine. Yet the destruction of Reck's honor and reputation and life, these were the ends which Proutt set himself to bring about, at what pain to his own heart no man may fully It can only be known that in 67else, that he threw himself into the thing he meant to do. * % % % Rnex. as has been skown, needed no training for his appointed when its whistiing wings lisied | There are many | {with him daily, for close to four long {weeks, as all fraternity men knew. that training. It was known that Proutt took Reck far over the Sheepscot Ridge, where farms were all deserted, and no man was like to come upen him. But he had done that with dogs before, for woodcock lay thick: in Sheepscot. val- ley. Once or twice men heard the barking of a dog in that valley; and there was a measure of pain in the notes. And three times men met Proutt driving homeward, with Reck lying weary and subdued upon the Ifloor of the buggy, scarce fit to lift Ihi! head. It was remarked ‘that INone saw Proutt was more dour and morose than ever; and Lee Motley thought the man was aging. One: man only, and that man Jim Saladine, caught some jinkling of that which was afoot. Jim was a deer ihunter; and toward mid-October, with fa shotgun under his arm for luck's sake, but never a buckshot in his cartridge pocket, he went one day into the Sheepscot valley to search out the land. Deer lay in_the swamps there; and Jim sought to locate them against the coming season. He moved slowly and quietly, as his custom was; ears and eyes open. And he saw many things which another man would never have seen. Two things he saw which had sig- nificance. Once, in a muddy patch along the Sheepscot's brim, he came upon a deer’s track; and other tracks beside it. A man’s track, and a dog’s. Jim studied these tracks. They were sadly muddled; and he could make lit- tle of them. But he was sure of this much—that man and dog had been at- tentive to the tracks of the deer. And this stayed in Jim's mind, because no dog in Fraternity has any business with the track of a deer, and no man may justly set a dog upon such track. Later that day Jim was to find some explanation for what he had seen. Where Fuller's brook comes into the Sheepscot there lies an open meadow half a mile long and half as broad; and near the lower end of the meadow half a dozen alders group about a lone tree in the open. Deer and moose, coming up the Sheepscot valley, are like to cross the stream below ‘and then traverse this meadow; and Jim Saladine stopped under cover at. the meadow’s head—Iit was near dusk—to see what he should see. ] He saw what you may see any day along the Sheepscot, and what, by the same token, you may g0 & Weary year without seeing. He saw a deer, a proud buck, come up from the stream and follow the meadow toward where he lay. It passed the isolated alder clump, and something there gave it alarm; for Jim saw its head lift—saw then the quick leap and rush which carried the creature to cover and away. ® ¢ ¢ Saw something else. Out from the alder clump burst a man, driving be- fore him a dog. Dusk was falling, Jim could see their figures only dim- ly. But this much he saw. The man urged the dog after the deer, with waving arms; and the dog, ever look- ing back shamefacedly, trotted slowly off upon the trail, the man still urging from behind. They slipped into the brush where the deer had gone. and Jim caught no further glimpse of them. Now, Saladine was an honest man, who laved the deer he hunted; and he was angry. But he was =®lso a just man, and he could not be sure whom So it was that he kept a still tongue, and waited, and through the weeks that followed he watched, patiently emough, for what should come. He meant in that hour to take a hand. ‘With a week of October left, Proutt took Reck home to Westley. West- ley was.not there, but Mrs. Westley ! | was frightened of the man, and told Westley so when he came. But West- ley was well enough pleased to have Reck back again, and he bade her forget Proutt. L Proutt had been, what favored by fortune. ness of his officc had taken Westley away from Fraternity for two weeks at a time, s0 that Proutt had had full time to do with Reck as he chose. Fraternity knew nothing of what had happened, though Jim Saladine may bave guessed. There was one night at Will's store when Jim and Proutt were near fisticuffs. Proutt had brought Dan with him to the store; and Jim, studying the surly dog, ask- ed: “Dan ever notice a deer, Proutt?’ Proutt exclaimed profanely. “No,” said. was over in the Sheepscot, t'other day,” said Jim evenly. “See tracks where a dog had been after a deer.” “More like it was one of these set- ters,” Proutt declared, watching them all from beneath lowered lids. ‘They’ll kill a deer, or a' sheep, give ‘em a chance.” thus far, some- ‘The b tone, or in Proutt's own heart, made the trainer boll into fury, so that he strode toward Saladine. But Will Bis- sell came between, and the matter passed. Proutt, before this, had taken Reck home; and the Westleys made much of the dog. Reck had affable and en- dearing little tricks of his own. He had a way of giving welcome, draw- ing back his upper lip so that his teeth showed as though in a snarl, yet panting with dog laughter all the time; and he had a way of talking, with high whines of delight, or throaty growls that ran the scale. And he would lie beside Westley, or beside Westley’s wife, and paw at them until they held his paw in their hands, when he would go contentedly enough to sleep. * ¥ ¥ ¥ 'HEY thought the dog was unhappy when he came home to them. He had a slinking, shamed way about him. At first Westley supposed Proutt had whipped him; but Reck showed no fear of a whip in Westley's hands. After two or three days this furtiveness passed away and Reck was the joyously affectionate crea- ture he had always been. So the Westleys forgot his first attitude of gullt, and loved him ardently as men and women will love a dog. Westley had opportunity for one y's hunting with him, and Reck never faltered at the t: to which he had been born and bred. He had one fault. Chained, he would bark at the least alarm, in a manner to wake the neighborhood. So West- ley had never kept him chained. It was not the way of Fraternity to keep dogs in the house of nights; so Reck slept in the woodshed, and Westley knocked a plank loose and propped it, leaving Reck an easy avenue to go out or in. It was this custom of Westley's which ‘gave Proutt the chance for which he had 1aid his plans. October had gone; November had come. This was in the days when wood- cock might be shot in November if you could find them. But most men who went into the woods bore rifles; for it was open season for deer. Now and then you might hear the snapping crash of a thirty-thirty in Whitcher swamp, or at one of the crossings, or—if you went 80 far—in the alder vales along the Sheepacot. And one day in the middle of the month, when ground was frozen hard, Proutt came to Nick West- ley’s home. .work. Yet Proutt kept him, labored marked Proutt's lowering eye, and He came at noon, driving his old ' l l l ] buggy. Westley was at dinner when he heard Proutt drive into the vard: and he went to the door and bade the dog tratner come in. . But Proutt shook his head, and his eyes were somber. “You come out, stley,” h ve a word for you. Thers was som e said. g in Prfiull‘! one which disturbed stley. e put on his mackinaw, and drew his cap down about his ears, and went out Into the yard. Reck had beep asleep on th doorstep when Proutt appeared; he ha barked a single bark. But now he was gone into the shed, out of sight: and when Westley came near Proutt’s buggy, the dog trainer asked B “Did you see Reck sneak away? Westley was angry; and he was also shaken by a sudden fremor of alarm. He said hotly enough: ‘Reck ver away. said Proutt.: eth Wei Westley asked, with narrowing eves: ‘"What :n you talking about? Where ou see him? O e Smorning, Proutt declared, “Scant daylight. Down in the swamp. Westley stood very atill, trying to remember whether he had seen Reck early that morning. And he could only remember, with a shocking cer- | tainty, that Reck had not been at home when he came out of the house to do his chores. He had called and got no snswer, and it may have been half an hour before the dog ap- peared. It had disturbed Westley at the time, and he scolded Reck for self-hunting. But any dog will range the hcmo farm in the morning hours, and Westley had not taken the mat- ter seriously. Proutt’s words, and his tone more than his words, made the matter,very Mac's corner.” Saladine told them, and they went that way. The road took them by Proutt's house, and old Dan, Proutt's hound. came out to bark at them, and saw Proutt, and tried to get into the Proutt bade him back to the then, as an afterthoukht, got | out and shut the hound indoors. } “Don't want him followIng.” be said. Saladine’s eyes were narrow with thought, but he made no comment, and they moved on their way That part of Maine in which Fra- ternity lies is a curious study for Beologists. A good many centuries ago. when the great glaciers graved this land, they slid down from north to south into the sea, and in their sliding plowed deep furrows. §o th the country is cut up by ridges, run- ning alnost true north and south. and ending in peninsulas with ba between. Thus the coast line is j ged as saw B These ridges run far up into the state; and.the Sheepscot ridge is as bold ‘as any one of them. There is| no bregk in it. and it herds the little | watérways down into Sheepscot river. and guides the river itself south t it meets the sea. There are trout in | Sheepscot, and thirty years ago the valley was full of farms and mills: but these farms are for the most part | deserted now, and the mills are gone, | leaving only shattered dams to inark the spots where they stood. The valley is a tangle of second-growth | timber, broken here and there by ancient meadows _through which | brooks meander. Here dwells every | wild thing that the region knows Proutt’s old buggy climbed the| long road up the eastern slope of the ridge. and the somber beauty of the countryside lay outspread behind them. The sun was falling lower. the shadows were lengthening and a cold wind blew across the d. | Across Georges vailey anc Georres lake lay the lower hills. the ridge beyond, and far sou { serious, indeed. Westley forced him- self to ask: ‘“What were you d in the swamp’ “] was after a deer,” said Proutt; and when Westley remained silen Proutt added, huskily: “So was Reck. Westley cried: “That's a lle.” But his own voloe sounded strange and unnatural in his ears. He would not believe. Yet he knew that other dogs had chased deer in the past, and would again. He had himself shot half a dozen. It was the law, a he was the instrument of the law. And this was the very bitterness of Proutt'’s accusation, for if it were true, then he must shoot Reck. And Westley would as soon have shot one of his own blood as the dog he loved. In the little instant of silence that followed upon his word he saw all this too clearly. And in spite of his love for Reck, and in spite of his ardent longing to believe that’Proutt had lied, he feared desperately that the man spoke the truth. Westley' wife would never have believed: for & woman refuses to believe any evil of those she loves. She is loyal by refusing to believe; a man may be- Hleve and be loyal still. Westley did not know whether to believe or not; but he knew that He was terribly afraid. He told Proutt: “That's a lie! And Proutt, after a long moment, clucked to his horse and started on. Westley called after hi 'Wal Proutt stopped his horse; and We‘l’tlzy asked: “What are you going to do higher domes of Megunticook the Camden hills. The b could not_be seen, but the vl of Blue hill showed, tw beyond the bay, and Mount ten miles farther still. * * The men had no eves for the beauties. They rode in silence. watching the road ahead. And they passed through Liberty, and past Mac's corner, and 0 up to top the ridge at last. - Paused there to breathe Proutt's horse. Back at Proutt’s home. about the time they were in Liberty, some one had opened the door of the shed in which old Dan was locked; #nd the hound, watching chance, scuttled out into the open. What weli founded habit prompted him can only ba{ guessed; certain it is that he wheeled, | never heeding the calls from behind { him, and took the road by which | Proutt had gone, hard on his master's | i | Desert. | . i down into Sheepscot valle | the most part rough and little used. An occasional farmer comes this way: an occasional fisherman drops from the steep descent to the bridge. But ! the frost has thrown bowliders up across the road; and grass grows be- tween the ruts, and the young hard- wood crowds close on either side. Down_this road, at Saladine’s direc- tion, Proutt turned, and the westering sun shone through _the leafless “You're game warden,” Proutt’ told him sullenly. *Nobody around here can make you act, less'n you're a mind to. But I've told you what's going on. Westley was sweating {n the cold,, 1 ‘Proutt, are you Yes,” said Proutt; and Westley cried: “What did you see?’ “I had a deer marked,” said Proutt slowly. ‘He'd been feeding und an old apple tree down there. I w there before day this morning, figur- ing to get a shot at him. “Crep’ in quiet. Come day, I couldn’t see him. But after a spell I heard a smashing in the brush, and he come out throu{h an open, and was away be- fore could shoot. And hot after him came Reck.” ‘How far Westley asked. “Not more’'n ten rod.” “You couldn’t be sure. “Damn it man, I know Reck. Be- I wouldn't want to say it was im, would I? He's%a grand dog. “What did you d Westley asked. “Yelled at him to come in.” “Did he stop?” “Stopped for one look, and then one jump into the brush and away he went.” Westley was almost convinced; he turned to call Reck, with some curi- ous and half-formed notion that he might catechize the dog himself. But when he turned, he found Reck at his side, and the setter was standing steadily, legs stiff and proud like a dog on show, eyes fixed on Proutt. There was no guilt in his attitude; nor was there accusation. There was'| only steady pride and self-respect, and Westley, at sight of him. could not believe this damning thing. He said slowly: “Look at him, Proutt. If this were true he'd be ashamed, and crawling. You saw some .other dog. Proutt shook his head. “He's a wise, bold dog, is Reck. Wise me. He'll face it out if he ca Westley pulled himself together, dropping one hand on Reck’s head. “I don’t belleve it, Proutt,” branches and laid a bright mosaic| before the feet of the horse. Halfway down the hill Saladine oke. ‘“‘Let's light out,” he sald. We'll find something up along this lope.” ‘Westley nodded, and Proutt, after u moment’s hesitation, = stopped m-‘ horse. They got out, and Reck danced about thefr feet. Proutt tied the horse to & sapling beside the road, and they climbed the ruined stone wall and turned into the wood. Westley alone had a gun; the others were unarmed. The course Saladine set for them was straight along the slope. moving neither up nor down, and the three men, accustomed to the woods. went quickly. Westley spoke to Reck now { ahd then. His only word was the| hunter's command. “Get in there.” id. “Get in ranged forward, and up, ai { known {a thoroughb: — “Hell, We ‘Whs after dcer. He knew we were witching. Took the birds. Westley tvied to find a word. but Saladine, that silent stepped forward. Westiey,” he said, “wait a min-' ute. You, Proutt, be stilL.” They looked at him uncertainly. Proutt growling. And Saladine spat on the ground as though he tasted the unclean. shut. Wanted ta sec. it in the end. Westley your dog Westley nodded. Yes.” at_Proutt “He broke him to run deer” Westley began to tremble. and he could not take his cyes from Sala- dine; and Proutt broke out in a roar- ing oath, till Saladine turned slowly upon him. The deer hunter went o to ses man, Proutt broke He looked waited 1 knowed what would come; but 1 wanted to s A bird dog's bred to birds. If he's bred right. it's in him. Reck’s bred right. You can make him run deer. Proutt did But you can't make him like it Birds is tils meat. You saw that t now. He didn't pay any heed to that buck; but he did pay heed to the pa'tridge.” Proutt cried: “Damn vou. Saladine ou can't say a think like that aladine cut in: “I saw you. x by Fuller's Brool N deer crossed there, up into the meadow. You was in the alders with Reck. and you tried to set him on. He wouldn't run, and vou drove hinu 1 saw you, Proutt” Westley looked down at Rietk: and he looked at Proutt, the traind looked back at Reck agai was something in Reck's eyes which made him hot and angry: there was< a pleading something in Reck's Alow - ly wagging tail. * * ¢ And West- Proutt, cool enough now and he “I can Month 4go. Down see it now there was there was something, joyously. “Why, Proutt, you man who knows dogs. -Didn’t you know ou could not kill the soul and the honor of a dog like mine? Reck is He knows his .work. Proutt. 1've mething, felt He laughed He moved a little toward the other. Proutt,” he suid, “I'm -going to lick you till you can't stand.” Proutt’s big head lowered between his shoulders. *“So—"" he said. And Westley stepped toward him. Saladine aid nothing: Reek did not stir; and the woods about them wers as still as still. It was in this silence, before a blow could be struck. that they heard the pound of runnin feet in the timber above them: and Saladine said swiftly: “Deer! He moved, with the word, half a dozen paces back by the way they bad come, to an old wood road they had crossed. and stood there. look- ing up the siope. Westley and Proutt forgot each other and followed him and Reck stayed close at Westley's hegl. They could hear the beating feet more plainly now; and Saladind muttered P : “Scared. = Something chasing it. On the word, abruptly startling them, fhe’ deer came into view--a doe, running swiftly and unwearied. Striking the wood road ‘the creature followed the easier going, down the slope toward them: and because they were 80 still 4t failed to discover the men till it.was scarce two rods awmy. Sighting them then, the doe stopped an instant, then lightly leaped into the brush at one side, and was gone. * kN % > TTHE men dld not' look after: the deer; “they walted to see what pursued it. And after a moment Saladine’s face grimly hardened, and Westley's became somber and graye. and Proutt turned pale as ashes. For, lumbering down the hill upon the deer’s hot trail, came Dan, that hound which Proutt had shut away at home—came Dan, hot on the trail. as Proutt had .taught him. The dog saw them, as the deer had . .done, and would have swung aside. But Proutt cried, in a broken voice: ‘Dan, come In. covering a front of half a dozen rods they advanced. ~Westley was in the middle, Saladine was below, Proutt above the other two. Westley had suggested putting his| hunting bell on _Reck, but Proutt gatived that with a caustic -word. “He'd know, then,. you wanted birds,” he said. “And, anyway. itd scare the deer.” So they followed the dog by sight or by the stirring of his feet among the leaves, and at times he was well ahead of them, and at times when he moved more slowly | they were close upon his heels. At such moments Westley held them| back till Reck should work ahead. | Whether Reck, had any knowledge | of what was in their minds, no man can say. There were moments when’ they saw he was uncertain, when he turned to look Inquiringly back atf them. But for the most part he worked steadily back and forth as a good dog will, quartering the ground by inches. And always he progressed along the ridge. and always they follow- ed him. And Saladine, down the slope, watched Proutt as they move on. No man spoke, save that Westley | urged Reck softly on when the dog i turned back to look at them. And at the last, when they saw that Reck said Proutt. “You can do as you please. But don't ask me to keep my mouth shut. You was quick enough to shoot Jackson’s dog when you caught her on that doe.” wa) know.” said Westley, and his face . e as qui Reck, when I'm sure.” SR “You'll take pains not to get Weuleyhhddtm- Voice steady. “Did you ever. have to call Jou Svex Reck off of deer “No. “Then he's never been N e > taught not to “Neither had Jackson’s dog.” ‘What I mean,” said Westley, “is this. He doesn't know. it's wrong to no_excuse.” 'l;l'm}not excusing him.” routt swore. “Well, w! ans hat are you m going to take him into the swamp and find a deer,” said Westley slowly. “See what he does. He's never been taught not to run them. So he'll run any that we find. If ifs in him to do it he'll take after them.” Proutt nodded, and there was a cer- tain triumph in his eves. “You take your gun along,” he said. “You're go- ing_to need that gun. estley, white and B steady, sald: e the gun. Will you come “No; not this time o’ day.” “Wsltg'ey turned toward’ the house. 'Wait,” he said. “T'll get my gun; and we'll go pick up Jim Saladine. He'll he know.” nodded. . “TIl Proutt Westiey went into the house. Reck stood on the doorstep. Proutt, wait- ing,” watched Reck with a flickering, deadly light in his sullen eyes. * k% % SALAD!NE listened silently to West- ley's request; but he looked at Proutt with an eye before which Proutt uneasily turned away his head. Nevertheless, being by nature & taciturn man, he made no comment or suggestion. He only said: “I can find a deer. “Where?’ Westley asked. “Over in the Sheepscot,” said Sala- dine. “T've got mine for this season; but I know some h: over there where the: feeding, come evenin Proutt said ui ily: “Hel irer than Sheepscot. 'Where?" asked Saladine. ¢Everywhere.” “We ain't got time to much _territo today,” said mildly. I'N go alon wait,” ‘e like to be cover that the hunter he Sheepscot suits | T'm most sure we'll pick up dee! Westley aske: “Do you think I'm testing Reck fair?’ ‘Yes, I'd say 50,” he ‘Proutt still a danged ‘Westley. a: Saladine spat. sgreed. “I've got work to do, objected. “Sheepscot’s lonf “I want you to come,” sald - Proutt assented at , 8n they set off in his team. He and Westley in the front seat, Saladine way."” and Reck behind. A five-mile d!lv: Dk itainly as Proutt exclaimed: over the Bheepscot ridge. had found game, it needed no word to bring the three together, two or three rods behind the dog. * o ok ok ECK, as the gunners say, was “marking game.” Nose down, he moved forward, foot by foot; and now and then he stopped for long seconds, motionless, as though at point; but always he moved for- ward again. And Westley felt the cold sweat upon his forehead; and he looked at Proutt and saw the dog trainer licking his tight lips. Only Saladine kept a steady eye upon the dog and searched the thickets ahead. After a rod or two Reck stopped, and this time he did not move. And Westley whispered to the others: “Walk it up, whatever it is. Move in.” So the men went slowly for- ward, eyes aching with the strain of staring into the shadows of the wood. ‘When Reck took his point he was well ahead of them. He held it while they came up beside him; and then, as they passed where the dog stood, something plunged in the brush ahead, and they all saw the swift flash of brown and the bobbing white tail as a buck deer drove straight away from them along the slope. And Proutt cried triumphantly: deer, by God! I said it. I told you so. Shoot, Westley. Damn you, shoot! ‘Westley stood still as still, and his heart was sunk a hundred fathoms deep. His hand was shaking and his eyes were blurred with tears. For Reck, who had no rightful concern with anything that roved the woods save the creatures which go on the wing, had marked a deer. Enough to damn him! Had hunted deer! He tried to lift the gun, but Sala- dine spoke sharply. “Hold on. Look at the dog.gHe didn’t chase the deer.” Wesiley jrealized then that Reck as, in t, still marking game, | moving slowly on ahead of them. But Proutt cried: ‘“He'd smelled it: h; didn't see it go. Or there's another et “He didn’t chase the deer,” said Saladine. Westley, without speaking, moved forward behind the dog. And of a sudden his heart could beat again. For they came to where the buck had been lying, to hi warm. And Reck passed over this ‘warm bed, where the deer scent was en oould almost catch it themselves; passed over this scent as though it did not exist, and swung, beyond, to the right and up the slope. The buck had gone forward and down. “He's not after deer,” sald Saladine. They knew what he was after in the next instant; for wings drummed ahead of them, and four partridges got up, huge, fieeting ahadows in_the darkening woods. And Reck's nose followed them in flight till they were gone, then swung back to Westley, wrinkling curiously, as though he asked: “Why did you not shoot?" ‘Westley went down on his knees and put his arms about the doz’s neck; and then he came to his feet So came the hound to heel, sullenly and slowly, eyes off into the wi where the doe had gone: and for moment no one. spoke, till Saladine slowly drawled: e “Westley, give Proutt your gum” * ‘Westley did not speak. He was fm- mensely sorry for Proutt, and all his anger at the man had gone. Proult looked old, and shaken, and weary: and he had dropped his heavy hand. across Dan’s neck. He caught West- ley’s eye and said harshly: *“Fo wPl’ with your gun. I'll use my own.” An instant more they stood Westley turned to Saladine. “Jim. let’s go,” he said. And Saladine” nodded, and they moved away, Reck at Westley's heels. After a moment, an odd panic in his volce. Proutt called after them: “Walit, I'll ride you home.” But Saladine answered 1l walk!™ did not speak at 1. And Westley and the deer hunter then He and Reck went steadily upon their way. The sun was setting; and dark shadows fiitered through the trees to hide old Proutt where he still stood beside his dog. (Copyright. Printed by arrangement with th Metropolitan ’c'lplper";nku.ln o —_— Financial Foolishness. EROME SIMMONS, the United States district attorney, who has. rounded up oil stock swindlers, sald in New York the other day. * “It's pitiful to see how foolish m« great many people are when it comes to a question of finance. *“0ld Wash White is a good cxampls of financial foolishness. When Wash's boes got back to the delts from tho north one day e found the old.man: driving a fine young muie hitched to a handmae wagon. “Now Wash was a notoriously shift- less customer, and so his boss said io him Where did you get that splendid nout, Washington? ‘Ah done boughten it at Magnolia, sah,’ said Wash. ¥ “*Hew mmuch did it cost you? “+Ah done give mah note £’ $200 for it, sah’ “‘Good gracious,’ said the boss, ‘where do you expect to get $200 to meet vour note when it falls due™’ “Wash loeked astonished and of- fended. . “*Fo’ goodness sake boss man, he said, ‘vo’ sho'ly don’ expeck me ter give mah note an’ pay, too? " A Good Spirit. ILLIAM G. McAMOO seaid ‘at-a New “York luncheon: . “We should all try to accept-defeat- gracefully. Defeat accepted with- grace, pluck, humor, is as fine a thing « s victory. s 1 always liked the spirit of the young divine preaching his trial ser~ mon, in’ a fashionable New York church. If the sermon should please, the young man would secure & $12.000 post. Soon from the pulpit, hawever, he saw that his sermon was not leasing. 5 P falfoway through, he paused. Then ] tu ’ he said, in loud, ringing tones: ““The janitor will please open -all the windows. It is unhealthy to sleep in a closed room. e The Cash Call. “ NIARSE HENRY” WATERSON' -¥1 gaid at a Louisville dinner: “One day I met an old colored man toting a fine ham under each arm. It was a gray, cold day, windy and threatening snow, but the old fellow had on a ragged seersucker coat and seersucker trousers—you could see his black skin through the holes. “Ephraim, "1 said, ‘why did_you your money for those ma :ff?;‘gnt)hmu? ¥Fou'd have done bet. ter to buy a&n ‘gvercoat.’ “Old FEph rolled his eyes at me and said solemnly: “+arse Henry, when Ah axcs mah back fo' credit Ah gits it, but when Ah speaka to dis—and he gave his temach three or: four whacks with @ ham—'it cdlls o' de cash.’™ -