Evening Star Newspaper, January 3, 1926, Page 74

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. MAJOR OF LAMONTAI BY CHARLES ALEXANDER. 0., JANUARY 3, Mrs. Purdom Knew That Old Wally Loved His Government and H is Dog Above Everything Else. ROM a faint trafl In a salmon- berry thicket a dog burst forth, tawny, shaggy and unkempt, like a hobo who has been drawn by his heels through a muddy culvert, His bounds and his poise when ‘he stopped to look back belled the hobo. His heavy muscles were springy, as if were on tip- tos. His brown eyes, half hidden by halr, were quick and challenging. The broad pale-green salmonberry leaves rippled again, and old Wally emerged. He shook the leaves from his flannel faded overalls and ver: He polished a sleevs game warden’s badge on his breast. The dog waited till Wally came up to him. He fell in step then, not behind the man, but beside him, walking slow- 1y, head up, with a certain dignity Wally, an old 10-opund single-shot rifle in the crook of his arm, straight- ened his G-foot thin form and also walked with a certain dignity, The evening sun glinted on his badge. They were but a hundred paces from a little board store and post office. Scatteerd on the worn board platform before the store were lounging men. Among them a brilliant red hat ad- vertised it with sharp bobs and ducks its owner recited mighty stortes. Crossing a foreground of cart tracks and yvellow mesqu 4 Wi stalked straightly and serio small blue eyes, wide apart in his long, sharp shot glances at the city fisherman inhabiting the red bat. In the Lamontai, or Mountain River country, Wally was game warden. And Mr. Dagget, with the red ha creamy creel, 8-pound pole and tapered line was the only angler on the La- montal. “Absolutely, the 'S no other way to take trout.” Dazget was telling the native hillbillie nd fern-jumpers lounging on the platform. “That is, no decent way. A trout's entleman. Between gentiemen everything ought to be fair an' Between a trout an’ me, I s fair play an’ no gang-hoo Mr. I that from sq et removed the red hat theoretically prevented people shootinz him for a deer or a ibbed his short black hair. 1d his dog lingered, listen: nt of Dagget. Dagget's fer- y on Wally's deerslayers today, inquired Dagget, s that it hurt he Major an’ me did. We tooke: > treed a 8foot panther. Gov'men: vs a panther kills 50 deer a year. This ol’ Tom, he won't kill no more nes. Deer belongs to the e an’ the Major keep arter ‘em. Ketched a _crowd of trout, now did ye? They ain't bitin’. They's too many kultus on crowdin’ the river.” Dagget laughed. “Dad,” he sald impressively, “It was only the lmit stopped Play fair and use vour head and youwll get 'em. Can’t strong- Rrm trout. It's like poKer." Wally's gimlet e: Bet's. get’'s fac "not toc replied, es bored into Dag- or, the dog, watched Dag- “Mister,” said Wally, y you didn t tatch no limit unless ve tooken an’ strong-armed ’em. With a spinner ye might catch teum salmon, not trout. Nary a trout out from under the rocks when the tyee fish is runnin’. 1ey’s only one way v uld get to come out from under the rocks “Rot!” Dag: snorted. “I got ‘em. The boys W oT creel—full. I don’t jerk 'em out with a telephone pole, either, old-timer. I fish! It's a sclence.” * ok k% ITHOUT a word Wally strode ore and down a trail quapin tr Behind it was ol sp: d on a sl f in the spring, fern wrapped, were Dagget's watching Dazget rally’s steps were @ short. £ hefore Wal open with red, berry-like of peas, spilled too long. did not reach the had slicked a trout knife. Half a dozen salmon e “That's ye strong-armed ‘em gol hing y the old man snarled “Balmon egzs fer bat! No trout can keep from them eggs. I knowed It Dagget, vou know the Gov'ment law about salmon " Drawing_him self up. his bl ng, Wally sald, “Dazget, conslder yourseM—" He looked into a cold little .25 Colt, its tiny barrel thrusting beyond Dag get's white knuc Wally’s hands did not go up. They seized Major by the shoulders and held the dog back “You old fool! the salesman sald “I know the law. But It's a dead letter. You know that. Who ever heard of a man pinched for using salmon eggs? Everybody uses ‘em Now, listen to me: I know Col Barnes. He's State pame warden an’ my friend. 1 see him at the club every day. Play poker with him. You know where you'll get off when I tell him of this.” Dagget put his gun up. Wally drew a sleeve across his sun-reddened brow. It was true. Salmon egzgs, irresistible, were a despicable snare to use against hungry trout. Sports- men did not stoop to them. The law forbade them. Yet some anglers baited their fly-hooks with salmon eggs. Law and duty were the fetishes, the relizion of Wally's lonely years. Now and then his superiors, like Col Barnes, surprised him in the way they worshiped at the same shrine. In court he could do nothing with Dagget. Wally walked slowly back to the store. Major lay down outside it and bit the drying mud from be- tween his toes. Conjuring up a grin, Wally leaned against the lock boxes in the post office part of the store and addressed Mrs. Purdom, who stood within the general delivery window. “Any Gov" men business today?" he asked hope- fully. “No, Mr. Waller,” she answered. “But there’s a stack o’ mall. I de- clare & body'd think you was aimin’ to set up housekeepin’, the catalogues you get.” Bhe gave him an armful of varl- colored advertisements. Two years before Wally had sent his name to New York in answer to an advertise- ment that read: “Big mall every day. Send name, address and silver dime. The advertisement had not led. The sallow widow, sharp and thin as a steel table knife, considered Wally with possessive eyes. “Of course, Mr. ‘Waller,” she said, busying herself with & handful of letters, “you'll be ‘wantin' me to bank that $20 bounty you'll get for this last panther? I'm sendin’ some money of my own to the bank next week. I thought—- Juggling his own armful of mail, ‘Wally reddened. “Ye see, Mis' Pur- dom, I aimed to send fer a brass- studded collar for the Major. Facin® them thers the way he does, he needs it to keep 'em from gettin' his throat. Just today—say! It was great the way he duv in on that old Tom Gol hing! Wisht you'd been there,” he added, incautiously. “Wisght I had, indeed!” the Widow Purdom retorted. She was vexed to be outrivaled by a shaggy, dirty dog. Wrinkles flocked across her bony fore- head. ‘“Thomms Waller, an’ your hound dog! 3 ehouwld yau'd b A ashamed not to have human company around you at all. Livin' up there with that whelp! That's no way for a gentleman to live, Thomas Waller!” Thomas Waller hitched his stained overalls and moved toward the door. “He ain’t no hound, Mis’ Purdom,” he said, instructively. “He's a Alredale. An''ye know I tooken an’ traded 10 valuable panther hides fer him.” “More’s the pity!” she muttered, shutlling her letters. * X ok ok UTSIDE, Wally walked with giant strides among the bantering fern- jumpers and up the trail through the salmon berries. At the store a fern jumper observed: “That's a smart dog Wally's got. Dagget squinted doubtfully. “Smart as Wally, anyway,” he replied. “The only difference between ‘em, in fact, is that the dog can’t vote. A laugh went up. But Wally, on the trail, did not hear it. He thought almost wistfully of the Widow Pur- dom. She really must have meant that she would marry him. In his face he felt the hot blood burning. But he couldn’t support her, and he wouldn't live out of her store, with the tobacco -chewing fern - jumpers perched out front every day. Rivers and forests were better friends. He could afford them. For a mile Wally’s trail climbed among cascaras and vine-maples and alders. Then it pitched upward among rocks. Wally came out on a verge high above the river. From far ahead Major returned at a lope and sat, panting and looking down. Wally watched the river. Here he always paused to watch it. Below him, through two walls ot dark forest, it fretted over black and white rocks. It was a nervous river. In spots it ran smoothly for 20 feet over white rock, the water like bottle-green glass, to sweep and lash upon a pro- truding black boulder. Stealthily it swept into dark cormers to rip and fiing itself ag.inst rocks. Patches of iather, evidences of fury. tossed on it. Wally regarded it. It was part of his domain. Up that wild path be- tween the walls of the forest the sal mon came, those that had swum out of it four years before and ranged the free seas in swift-gleaming freedom. To it they returned, great and gleam- ing and up its rapids they fought, to spawn, which was a crowning glory, and high on its upper reaches to die, which was the wages of their freedom. All this to old Wally was big, like the phenomenon of the stars, of a forest wind, or of a budding woman. Major left the man, trotting back down the trail. He returned with news. This he imparted by purring his paws on the man's breast and holding his eyes for a moment. Then he dropped, turned and looked back down the trail, ears pointed. But Wally went on. He climbed for a quarter of a mile. Close by, all the way, was a heavy roar, where the Lamontai plunged over the mountain and raved down a precipitate series of raplds and chutes, among massive boulders. At these falls the trail came to the river again. Here at the head of the steep rapids the river leaped over the broken shoulder of the mountain in & 40-foot fall. It was thin, this flow of green water, and it splattered on a hard boulder below that had been worn down until its surface was a bed of needles, the softer stone carried awa At other points beside the fall were minor ladderlike rapids. Up these the greater and stronger salmon flashed. Wally watched. He saw a back cut the water, a flash in a smoth- er of white foam. He never under- stood how the salmon fought up through such water, up and up, be- vond boulder and boulder, until the break of the mountain and the swift deep pool beyond were reached. Wally had felled a_tree across this pool. It served for a foot-log by which he reached his cabin on the mountain beyond. He talked to Major and walked on the log. Deep below him the wrinkled ribbon of the river, dap: plied green and white, reached awa to the sea. The sun was dipping to- ward the Pacific. From out there the salmon cam “How'd you like salmon steak for pper, Major?"” he asked. “Or byked? I'll_get some clay from the cliff an’ we'll bake i Say, man, I'd like to bring down my brass spoon an’ slap it on them riffies. But it’s vour turn. Mind ye don't chase 'em down to the pool. Ye only go over them falls onct. Stay In the riffles. Get a big chinook that could bite your leg off. * % ok % EAGERLY barking, Major loped up the river. Above the pool were mild, shallow and wide riffles, where shale clogzed the stream. After rest- ing in the pool, the salmon worked through the shailows and on, deep into the dark ranges. Major leaped in. Wally sat on the log and watched. Wading and swim- ming, the dog made the center of the river. He worked always upstream, as did the salmon. His tawny head, the water swirling about his nose, turned from side to side, watching. Then sidewise he lunged. He missed. A spectator came out on the bank beside him. It was Dag- §\\\\\ And he never bit deep into it, for once he had been salmoned, and with Wal- ly’s help had lived through; and he knew fishbones as well as fish. As soon as his salmon showed signs of behaving, the dog plunged into the river again. Wally had not seen Dag- get. Now he heard him. Look here, Dad,” Dagget called. “Get your dog out, will you? How can I fish with him chasing around in there? Wally had wanted only one salmon. Now he wanted two. “Got as much right to the river as vou have,” he bawled. “Go get ‘em, Maj."” Dagget waded in. From his creel he took a tzum salmon—a small steelhead —and deliberately baited his barbed ganghooks with it. Then he cast the steelhead beyond the dog. Slowly he dragged the floundering fish across the current in front of Major. He fished for the dog. Major dived for it. Wally’s yell split the air. The old man came running from log to bank, bank to Dagget Dagget was soft-faced from much shaving cream and pink under his small stralght nose. Tiny veins showed on his chin. His hands, mon- key-like, were small and black-haired. Wally yelled the dog out of the water. His long arm unwound. Dagget hurtled ana fell. His lips bleeding, a tooth slanted out of position, he groped in his Khaki pocket as he got up. Wally was on him, yelling and smashing with his thin, hard knuckles. “You rat!” he screamed. ““Ye'll catch my dog on a hook! Ye'll let him swal- ler it an’ then tear his insides out!" Dagget was down again. Wally seized the dog, who had scrambled out and charged. “Pull that gun!” croaked Wally. “Pull it, ve skunk. Ye can hook me, Mister, but ye can’t hook my dog. Pull your gun. Ye can’t shoot us both fast enough. Making wordless, choking sounds, the dapper salesman got up: This time the automatic was In his hand. Wally released the dog. He stepped close to the gun and crashed his fists into Dag- get's face. The salesman went down again. On the rocks the gun clattered and exploded. Wally pulled Major from the man's throat. Muttering, picking up the salmon as he passed, he stalked across the log and climbed the mountain to his cabin. * ¥ % % AFTER & baked-salmon dinner, old Wally that night sat before the red coals in his smoke-stalned cabin. Major lay beside him. Wally, in his homemade easy chair, lifted his feet to the woodbox and unlaced his spiked muleskin shoes. In the argument with Dagget Wally had received a three-cornered tear in one knee of his overalls. His skinny leg showed in the flickering light from the fire. “Gol hing, Major!” Wally complained. “Hate to be always patch- in’. Wisht the widow'd patch for us, Major.” Long he stared {nto the embers. He was uneasy. He arose and swab- bed out his rifle with a ramrod. Ex- cept that he was clean shaved, he resembled a cartoon of Uncle Sam. Now and again he looked to the queer five-paned window. Beyond it all was black. He frowned, and sometimes addressed his thoughts to Major. The dog’s head rested on one fore leg. When Wally talked, Major lifted his head, regarding his master's eyes. When Wally was silent, Major laid head down and dozed. Somethin’ worries us, man,” Wally said, lost in a dark study. rched back over the day's events. Maybe it's Mis' Purdom. But we an’'t live down there on what we're { makin’ . Major, that Tom panther this mornin’, now, he might have had your throat, Major. Good old man! But I got to git ye that studded collar. I'll git ye a warden's badge an’ fix it on the collar. ‘The old Toms'll know ye represent the Gov'ment then.” He chose a catalogue and looked at the dog collars again, while his thoughts f{dled back over the morn- ing’s hunt. Major, trailing and tree- ing a cougar, had brought Wally to the tree with his deep-lunged music. Wally's shot had just missed the heart, puncturing the cat’s lung. Be- fore Wally could reload the cougar landed on the ground, and in an in- stant a swirl and hubbub replaced dog and cougar. Shaking free, the cougar had taken form again, whirled and launched in _a sidelong leap at Wally himself. With a puny knife- blow Wally met the leap. Then it was that Major with a rush struck the cat's head, hurling him away. In his chair before the fire, Wally drew a deep and loud breath. “Good man!” he sald. Major arose and laid his head on the old man's bony knee. “You come close to gittin’ minced. But I can’t lose ye. You know I tooken an’ hunted fer two years to get the skins to buy ye. Best dog ever made. A Gov'ment dog ye is, man, an’ named fer a young officer I fought Indians with.” The old man growled and cursed, “Gol hing! Gol hing!” remembering Dagget and the gang-hooks. At ten o'clock Major stretched like a sagging rope and walked to the door. A long, AT A GLANCE SHE READ THE LETTER. A HORROR FILLED HER EYES. get, with a heavy pole and a big spoon, looking for salmon. He had wicked three-gang hooks behind his spoon. Major stood on his head in a foaming riffile. He went under. In the white water there was a storm of tawny dog, flashing salmon, angry water. And they went upstream, dog and fish, floundering and fighting, breaking water and disappearing un- der it, Major’s feet now in the air, now his head. And he came to shore and dragged the big fish out. He dropped it to bark to Wally, seized it as it flounced and slapped him with its tail. He it savagely until it lay still, but & Jong time it would aot stay still. low talk he made in his throat, end- ing with a short bark. Wally 'Jo”od. stiffly. Frosgp i sure,” he yawne Openln* 3 he followed Major out. “I tell ye, man, trouble's ahead. Somethin's goin’ to happen. I feel it. Don't run far tonight, will ye?” Tall gray trees, with mountainous bark, stood around in the darkness. TFar overhead branches sprang from the straight trunks, roofing out the sky. Some / moonlight filtered in. Major picked out a fir tree, eight feet through at the base, and turned around and around in the soft needles at its base before lying down. Wally same and put &R Axm $o the frea He | as he might place It around a man's shoulder. He leaned his old face against the tree. He had never yet pressed his face against a woman's. Back in the cabin, he lifted a steel- white dipper from the water bucket and drank in gulps. Filtered moon- light gleamed on the dipper. The high forest, open underneath like a plllared temple, swayed above and crooned, a rising, pulsing sob, a chord ancient and moving as no organ's c “Good night “We can’t live with the widow, wrappin’ up beans an’ always listenin’ to them fern-jumpers chaw tobacco. Now if we had a income so's we could hold up our heads among "em—" * k kX HEN next he went to the post of- fice the trouble broke. That was five days later, and he had the scalps of seven great timber wolves to send to Portland for bounties. In Portland, meanwhile, Dagget had got In his work. Over a poker game one murky night Dagget chatted with Col. Barnes, State game warden. Yos, there was good fishing in the La- montai country, and few fishermen. The chinooks were running. Steel- heads also were still coming home from the sea. “The river's full of 'em,” Dagget said, lighting a clgarette. “But there's no chance, no chance.” “That s0?” Col. Barnes inquired. “Check!” said Dagget to the play- ers. “Why, there’s a wild dog on the riffles all day, jerking '‘em out. No chance to fish. If he pulls out one he pulls 40 a day. Crazy-mad about salmon. You know how they get.” “Raise you five dollars,” the fat colonel said to the baize table; and to Dagget, “I know. We have more or less trouble with dogs on all the coast creeks. I have a warden shoot them. We have a warden of sorts at Lamon- tal. Old native . Two palrs, my pot, boys! . . . He’s not on regular salary. I doubt if he draws two hundred a vear . . . Car two! . . . I'll have him shoot this dog . . . Who dealt me this alleged hand? He looked at it, but saw instead certaln visions of white water and glistening fish. Dagget saw old Wally shooting the dog he had beaten Dag- get over . . . Old Waully asked the Widow Pu dom diffidently, “Any Gov'ment b ness, Mis' Purdom?" Yes, and a stack of fourth-class mall for you. I declare, Mr. Waller, you must be a busy man, the way you stay away from civilization.” “Busy, yes, ma'am. I've fetched seven wolf pelts. I'll have ye send fer that brass collar, if ye please . . Quick-stamp, eh?"” He took the small white envelope with the blue cornerhead of the| State Game Commission and a special delivery stamp on it, muttering, “Gov'ment busines Opening the | he looked blandly over the| words. It would take him an hour to| puzzle out the typing. Staring at the letter, he looked Intelligent, handed it to the postmistress, and cried “Well, gol hing! What would ye think o' that, now, Mis’ Purdom?” He looked innocently into her ey “Just read it out, will ye?"” She understood her man. She meant to have him for her own. At a glance she read the letter. A hor- ror filled her eyes. Wally saw it. He stiffened. “Come right back here, in my room, Mr. Waller,” she said. Two lounging fern-jumpers were in the store. She glanced at them. “I want to speak to you—on business.” Back in her tidy room, flushing as he saw her white bed, Wally listened to fate as Mrs. Purdom read the let- ter aloud: Mr. Thomas Waller, Lamontal, Ore. My dear Warden: This office has had a number of complaints of the activities of a wild dog on your river detrimental to the pleasure of fisher- men. The dog must be removed. If it has an owner, kindly Instruct him to shoot it, and {f it has no own- er, or he declines to kill the dog, do so yourself. You will make it clear to the owner that the law cannot recog- nize the right of a dog to fish, cannot license him to fish, or allow him the privilege in any way. I hope to see you soon. Very truly, A. A. BARNES, State Game Warden. * ok ok ok N Mrs. Purdom’s sharp eyes was a quick gleam of sympathy. She saw how Wally stood, stiffly, his world whirling, his eyes cringing under the blow. declare!” she cried. “If that ain’t just too bad! Thomas Waller, you come right down here to supper with me tonight. We all need human company in these afflictions. An’ goodn knows you've never had enough But Wally, the open letter now in his hand, walked out blindly among the loiterers and, unseeing, stalked through the mesquite, into the sal- monberries. Major came, not now at his side, but at his heels, head down. And Wally climbed by the nervous river, crossed the log, stumbled slowly to_his cabin. ‘While the afternoon wore away, the fir trees grieving above, he sat humped over his board table. Some- times he muttered: “I won't do it! won't fer no Gov'ment.’ Malo! walked about, his ears lald back, o letter, stood against Wally's leg restlessly. And in his mind, while night fell, Wally recounted his life, all his rela- tions with his Government. It had always been a “hyas kloshe” Govern- ment, & very dear, a very high father. First, as a lanky lad, Wally had been taken from the Indians, who had raised him and alone knew the fate of his parents. He had been taken by a band of bearded men in blue, bugles ringing. And, himself wearing the blue, Wally had struggled through the snowy passes to the Nez Perce wars on the John Day River; with Gen. Fremont on the desert he had corralled the tribes within the cone of Fort Rock; with young Grant at Grants Pass and on the River Rogue he had seen the Rogue war; with young Phil Sheridan he had helped clean up the Yaquina and Siletz. For these things he had been repaid in Indian war medals. “I won't do it he cried, the cry tearing his breast. It had been fa- ther, mother and confessor to him, his Government. Now it ordered him to_shoot his dog. He got up, swaying. Automatically as to what he might do that would please him. And then he wheeled and ran to the river and to the foot log. He would fetch an offering of salmon to_his master. For Wally the roar of the river drowned out what happened. ® ok % % COL, BARNES, portly and expres- sionless as a Buddha, followed his letter to Lamontal. He drove his car from Waldport down the beach on what he represented to himself was a trip of Inspection. But he had old clothes, boots and salmon gear in the car. He recalled that the La- montal, according to Dagget, was swarming with salmon. The fishing dog, the one nuisance on the river, ought to be gone today. Y Parking in the mesquite grass, he waded through the tobacco chewers and entered the cool of Mrs. Purdom’s store. He asked where Warden Wal- ler was. For, as State game warden, the colonel had come to confer with his deputy. He hoped Waller was far away, so that he might be forced, while waiting, to kill time by fishing for salmon at the first riffles. “Why-—Thomas Waller's in the mountains—a long ways off, I declare 1 belleve,” Mrs. Pardom sald, think- ing fast. She must not tell Barnes or any one else what Thomas Waller was doing. She added, her black eyes falling: “He's on some—some Gov- ernment business today.” She thought that Wally would go far away to do what he had to do. “Of course” Barnes sald, greatly relleved. “He'll be in tonight, won't he?" “I don't know, I declare, Mr. Wal- ler doesn’t always come in to town. (She thought Wally would not come to her for a day or two after doing what he had to do.) ou see, he lives in a cabin on the mountain with only a—with a —well, alone.” She gathered some spirit into her volice. “I don't think It's right for a man to live that way. I tell him, my gra- cious, he should live here! You un- derstand, in civilization.” “Of course, of course” rumbled Barnes, secretly amused, as he sensed the situation. “It's getting evening, Mrs. Purdon. I think I'll just drift up the river and try for a salmon be- fore dark, while I'm waiting for Waller.” In the curtained tonneau of his car he struggled into old clothes and boots, armed himself with his t and emerged, to disappear up the s monberry trall. And he sat on the foot-log, humming an answer to the wild song of the river, threading up his pole, as Major trotted out on the log. Major stopped. Warden and dog looked steadily at each eyes meeting and holding. Hello, old man,” Barnes said ca: ually. He had an Airedale of his own. Major acknowledged the tone by lowering his head and sniffing ca: ally of the stranger. He looked up- stream, his eves seeming to focus on illimitable distance. Back over his shoulder he looked, at the forested mountainside where Wally sat limp- Iy at the foot of a tree. Then Maj managed a turn on the foot-log and walked back to the bank whence he had come, stepping slowly, listening without appearing to listen for wh the stranger might do behind him. Barnes did nothing but feel con- tented and busy himself again with his salmon pole. From a fat fiy book he extracted a huge brass spoon, gang-hooks and double-strength lead- ers. Once he looked over his shoul- der at the falls behind him, mesmer- | gotten his habttual other, their | 1926—-PART 6. ized by the hurtling water. Manlike, he thought It would be ruinous to float over the falls. When he looked back, Major was wading into the rif- fles at the upstream end of the pool. Barnes watched. Major fished. Barnes lighted his pipe; it went out; he forgot it. He laid his pole along the foot-log and his undivided feel- ings and faculties followed the fishing dog. * ¥ % ¥ JAJOR was a tawny sea woif. He trailed a salmon that crawled as only chinooks crawl through the ripped waters of the little cascades. Major swam, his jaw cleaving the water like an otter's; he lifted his head to spot and follow his fish; he whirled, dived, swam again. In a lather-coated whirlpool below a bowlder he plunged under. Barnes saw Mujor's back uppermost, then his legs, and the glistening body of a sal- mon striking great blows as it flopped in Major's jaws. He had it near the tail. Its struggles blinded and half drowned him. Slowly he worked it toward the near shore, opposite where he had entered the river. The salmon was longer than Major, and heavy and rong from its years in rigorous seas. oughing and panting, Major lay among the rocks with his paws on his catch. Once it went flouncing away. He leaped on it And on the foot-log Barnes had for- passivity. Dark- ness gathered. He could not now fish. But he called to the dog and cheered. The fizht had been great. His voice was rich with praise. Major understood that voice, and answered with stubby wags of his tail. But he did not forget Wally. Picking up his fish, he came out on the log. Barnes stood to let the dog pass. “old m vou're all right” he crooned. “You're the goods. Go on: you can pass. I'd like to take you home with me.” There was no extra room on the los. As Major sidled in front of Barnes, the salmon flopped violently in its dying throes. Major clung to it. Barnes moved an Inch backward. His heavy pole on the log was between his feat. He tripped. And dog and man, abruptly were in the water, and a dozen yards below the log, and a dozen yards above the falls. Barnes was being dragzed to the falls. With his teeth he seized Major's shaggy flank beside him. He fought desperately with hands and feet The dog was a steady, powerful tug. Inch by inch they edged toward the shore. Or they dragged back, as new currents caught the man. Once Major lifted his head and eave an explosive cry, the cry that often had -brought old Wally miles over the mountains to a treed cougar. Wally came, as the echoing call reached him faintly. He stood on the foot-log, the swift moony pool about him, the bellowing falls and the man and dog below him. The salmon pole was still balanced on the log. With it Wally reached the man and, the pole bending, urged him to shore. Major was free. In the darkness he swam above Barnes. He dropped be- | hind. The water from Barnes' kick- ing boots strangled him. He was done in. As Barnes dragged out on the rocks a hoarse cry from Wally's quiet old throat struck through him. He rolled, and looked. Touched by moonlight, Major swept slowly, tail-first, in the smooth racing water above the brink. As he tipped over the falls he was raised for an instant, still swimming up stream, his homely dripping face high, his eyes on old Wally on the log. * X X ¥ A LONG time Barnes lay among the rocks, panting. And Waily, silent, his face on his arm, lay full’ length on the log. He whispered to himself: “One thing, Maj, boy: I'd ‘a’ never tooken an’ done it. Ye know I wouldn’t. The Gov'ment fJist didn’t understand, Maj. An’ now- " He spoke aloud, bitterly. “Now I'll never say I done it. neither, Maj. I'll say I ain't an’ won't! “What?" Barnes shouted weakly. Wally came slowly and helped the Government in the fat person of Barnes down the river to Mrs. Pur. dom's. Leaving him beside the kitchen range, where the widow ex- citedly made beef tea, Wally sought the front porch. Barnes told the widow how it hap- pened. And she told him. She told him it was Wally's dog. Almost she told him it was the dog he had order- | ed shot. In a flash of Intelligence | Barnes understood. He set down his | brown bowl of beef tea and stood up. | | world ang | port "Hotel. WALLY RELEASED THE DOG: HE_STEPPED CLOSE TO THE GUN. The widow's black eyes were Soft s she dabbed at them with & corner of her apron. She put in a broken word for Wally: “Please, sir, Mr. Waller was power ful set on that dog, I declare.” But Barnes was out of the room. He saw Wally, slumped against & post on the porch. Wally stirred, held out his hand. On it was his warden’s badge And it was Sah-halee Tyres, the Government, a thing of the round arching skies, greater than man, end it had always been his sav- ing faith; but it was not greater than Wally’s and Major's love “I didn’t do—it, Mr. Barnes,” Wally grunted. “Didn’t an’ wouldn’t. Not even—fer the Gov'ment.” It was heresy. But he said it Barnes took the badge wavering hand. He did not clap Wally roundly on the back. Softly he dropped his arm about the old man’s shoulders. “Why, thut rotter Dagget!” he cried. “The skunk! I'll beat him to shreds, don't you fear, Waller. He t0ld me, you know—I suppose he'll never come back here. But I'll smear is Iying_mouth, never worry.” He a brilfant inspiration. ow you come In with me, 0ld man. I've some- thing to say I want Mrs. Purdom to hear— “It’s this wa nes said over the beef tea. ‘We've—the Govern. ment needs a full-time warden here. Full pay, you know-elghteen hun- dred. 1 think you'd have to live down here, where you'd be in touch with hunters coming and going.” Barnes glanced into Mrs eyes. He felt he was entitled to that reward. “Now I've just time to change clothes and hit for the Wald- Tide's right for beach from his Purdom’s drivin He arose. “By the way, I'll send you an Airedale — special pet of mine. He needs the mountain life City’s no place for he-dogs. I'll drop in occastonally and see him. And I wish vou'd teach him to fish.” Wally climbed to his feet. Barnes | stepped close, pinned the shining Gov- ernment badge on Wally’s shirt. Then Barnes was gone. The widow Purdom bustled to her stove, where more beef tea glimmered, surrepti- tlously turned the kerosene light lower. Her old heart was racing. Her long fingers were work-hardened, but their touch, on Wally's arm, was soft and light. (Copyright. 1925.) When Great Musicians Go on Rampage As Result of Artistic Temperament BY AVERY STRAKOSCH. HE noun temperament and the adjective temperamental are about as common in the Eng- lish language today as theater and theatrical, or opera and operatic. The Standard Dictionary defines temperament as *a special type of mental constitution due to natural characteristics.” Those who have had much to do with the temper- amental ones are less polite and are prone to believe that the adjective means much temper and very little mental. I suppose it is all in the point of view, or relative, as the scientists are so fond of saying. Whatever tem perament 1s, its most congenial dwell- ing place seems to be in an artistic at- mosphere. But today the average painter or actor is understood to be less tempera- mental than the musician. The opera singer and the concert performer— preferably the foreigner who has come to these shores to find himself sud- denly made a popular idol—seem best supplied with those “natural charac- teristics” on which temperament teeds so well. Peculiar things endear a musiclan to the public. There is, for example, tle veteran pianist, Vladimir de Pach- mann, who once began scolding some people who were talking during one of his concerts. The audience, includ- ing the rude ones, gave every evidence of enjoying this outburst of tempera- ment. The local scribes made a front- page story of his loud verbal displeas- ure, and papers all over the world wmmend upon the incident. From and because he must do something he |. opened the block of his rifile and pushed a cartridge home. mer he set at half-cock. it,” he mumbled, gripping the rifle. Down the mountain trail he stumbled, muttering “I won't.” The forest crooned, sweet sounds floated from the river, a hoot owl made the echoing evening melodious. Wally paused in\ the forest above the pool, hesitating to face the dying sunlight. “I won't do ft, he snarled, and leaning on a tree he waited for darkness, when dark deeds may be done. He slid to the ground; Major came and Wally took the dog in his arms. In a rosy-red kiss Ma- jor's tongue flashed out. msmn" begged Wally, pushing the away. stood Puszzled, Major watched his bowed mastet, o ana| *BAGS! PIGA!” PE PACHMANN SHOUTED. undecided ! that time on de Pachmann has talked to his audiences when he plays. His managers were quick to realize the value of .this chatter and raised the price on the first five rows of seats. Beyond that his voice did not carry. It did, however, at one Cali- fornia concert. L. E. Behymer, the Los Angeles impresario, was present- ing de Pachmann, and the planist, when half way through the concert, suddenly grew very angry at the audience. “Pigs! pigs!” he shouted. no understanding of music! I will not play for you!" ~ Catching sight just then of Mr. Behymer standing at the back of the hall, he velled: “Come up here! I will play for you, but not for these pigs!” The manager had to go down front and climb on to the stage, where he sat beside and calmed the irate musician during the rest of the program. Emmy Destinn, the famous Czech- ian soprano, who ruled the concert and operatic field for a good many years at the Metropolitan Opera House, had her share of temperament, which she seemed to take delight in turning on or off as one does a water tap. A concert manager of the Middle ‘West, whose name is linked with the more important musical events of that territory, once had an experience. with this prima donna that caused him sev- eral nervous moments. - On the evening in question she was booked to appear in one of the larger Southwestern cities. The house was sold out. Every one was happy. It “You have “YOU HAVE PLAY FOR YOU{" looked like a large and highly profit- able event. The manager, whom I shall call Mr, X., arrived at the audi- torfum early Eight o'clock came, then 8:15 and 8:20. Mme. Destinn did not arrive. A sense that all was not well—the sense which all managers must develop if they are to stay in the musical game—urged Mr. X. into a taxi and across town to the great lady’s hotel. In the hall outside the suite of the diva he found her personal represen- tative walking up and down, wildly tearing his hair. 1 ‘'Oh, no, she 1s not ill. But she will not sing! s “Not sing? Why not?” But the unfortunate personal repre- sentatfve could only groan and mut- !?r he paced the hall, “She will not sing’ Then Mr. X. decided upon herofc measures. He walked into Mme. Des- tinn's room, ignoring the maid who tried to stop him, and went over to the bed where the singer was placidly reposing. “Look here,” he said, somewhat brusquely, “I want to know what is wrong with you?” She lifted large, luscious eyes to his. “I do not feel like singing,” she re- marked languidly. “Here,” Indicating the general direction of her heart, “it say I cannot sing tonight.” And with these gentle words she fell back upon a small ermine pillow and closed her eyes, showing that—as far as she was concerned—the incident ‘was closed. . For a moment Mr. X. stood staring down at her. He is a small man, not very strong physically. Finally he drew a deep breath and leaned down. “Let me tell you one thing,” he said, “You are singing tonight!” So saying, he swooped down, wrapped the bed clothes about the as- tonished singer, picked her up bodily and shouting to her maid, “Bring her clothes!” went downstairs. Mercifully it was but one flight to the ground floor. Mr. X. bundied his victim into a taxi and hissed the name of the hall. In deep silence they drove the short distance. When the stage door was reached and Mr, X. was getting ready to lift her out the lady laughed gay “1 will walk,” » said. Inside the door she flung h arms about his neck and kissed him delightedly, ex- claiming: “You are a funny little man! I will sing for you! It says in here,” and she pressed again the general di- rection of her heart, “I must sing to- night—and for vou' She sang, and glorfously. Why did she refuse to sing in the first place? Temperament. It ‘was also temperament which made her sing after being brought forcibly to the concert hall. Temperament, often the compelling force back of musical tri- umphs. The great Emma Calve, also a so- prano, caused many a concert manager a nervous breakdown when she sang in his territory. To bring the French- woman from one town to another in a singable mood, when she was con- certizing in this country, it required the combined efforts of a maid, a sec- retary, the local manager and some one from the New York office of her managers. A manager told me the other day of an experience he had in accompany- ing this Mme. Temperament on one of her concert tours. One evening, worn and weary, the cortege arrived in a small town where the famous artist was to sing the fol- lowing day. There was only one good hotel in the place, and when the en- trance was reached it was plain to all beholders that the lobby was entirely filled with people. One of those politi- cal conventions to which throng half the population of a State was taking place. Madame took one look at the surging mob in the lobby and stopped abruptly halfway up the steps. “No,” she said, “1 will not go in.” The retinue gathered about, hastily explaining that it would be quite nec- essary for madame to go in. There was but one hotel in the place, eta, etc., ad lib. Calve listened sweetly, but shook her head when they had finished. “I will not go in there among al those people,” she sald placidly, and went back to the automobile. The representative from the New York office hurried in to find the hotel manager. +Listen,” sald he earnestly, “some- thing's got to be done, quick!” He explained what had happened. ‘The manager gave his best thought to the situation, then spoke: ‘Her rooms look out upon that bal- (Continued on Sixth Page)