New-York tribune., 1921-02-06
FRATERNITY has not changedS
y in a hundred years; yet Is

or that cholerlc Old Man Varney has
larrupcd his thirty-year-old son
with an AK helve or that Jean Bubier
has bought six yearling steers. But
there is always some word Of news
for the nightly interchange in Will
Bissell's store before the stage comes
in with the mail.
The talk in Will Bisselrs store
turns, night by night, upon the crea-
lures 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 Fraternity. Every man has one
dog, some have two. These, you will
understand, are real dogs. No mon
grels here; no sneaking, hungry,
yapping ours. Predominant, the
English setter, gentlest and kindest
and best natured of all breeds; and,
In second place, the lop-eared hounds.
A rabbit hound here and there, but
not many Of these. Foxhounds more
often.
There are few sheep in Fraternity,
so the dogs are free of that temp
tation; but there are deer. The deer
is sacrosanct, to be taken only with
rife and ball and by woodcraft
that bests the wild thing at it's own
game. No dog may justly chase a
deer; and dog so pursuing is out
lawed and may legally be shot by
any man. Men without conscience
and dogs without honor will thus
pursue the deer, in season and out;
nevertheless, deer running is for the
dogs Of Fraternity the black and
shameful crime.
THEY were talking dogs on a GER
tain night in late September in
Will Bisseil's store. A dozen men
were there; most of them from the
village itself, two or three from out
lying farms. Jim and Bert Saladine,
both keen hunters of the deer, who
killed their legal quota year by year,
leaned side by side against the candy
counter and Andy Wattles sold them
licorice sticks. Lee Motley had
driven down from his farm above
the Whitcher Swamp; and Jean
Bubier had come in from the head
of the pond; and there was Gay
Hunt, and there was George Free
land and two or three besides. Proutt
was one Of these others, Proutt, of
South Fraternity, a farmer, fox
hunter and trainer of setter dogs.
Finally, Nick Westley, North Fra
ternity man, appointed within six
months time to be game warden for
the district; gentle man. we'll liked
in spite of his thankless job; man
with sense of humor, steady and
persistent courage and a kindly
tongue.
This night, as it happened, was to
be the beginning Of the enmity be-
tween Proutt and Westley. One
sided at first, this i'll feeling. Two
sided at the last, and bitter enough
on either side. A strange thing,
dramatic enough in it's development,
fit to be numbered among the old
mems tales that were told around
the stove.
Proutt, the dog trainer, was a
man who knew dogs. None denied
him that.
EYES," they would say, "Proutt'll
break dog for you. And when he
gifts done with your dog your dog'll
mind"
If you scented some reservation
in word or tone and asked ques-
tion, you got no explanation. But
your informant might say casually:
"Heppvrton's good man with a
dog, too. Over in Liberty. Gentles
'em"
Persistent inquiry might have
brought out the fact that Hepperton
never whipped dog; that Proutt
knew no other method.
Proutt was not liked. He was a
morose man, and severe, and known
to nurse grudge. But he turned
out dogs which knew their business
and none denied him this. So he had
his measure of respect, and his
neighbors minded their own affairs
and kept out Of the mans harsh
path.
Curiously enough, though he
trained settlers, Proutt did not like
them. He preferred the hound, and
his own dog-a lop-eared brown-and-
white named Dan-was his particu-
lar pride. This pride was like the
pride of new father; it showed
issalf in much talk Of Dams deeds
and Dams virtues, so that Frater-
nity's ears were wearied with the
name Of Dan, and it was the fashion
to rv,.iva ~, oaass eYnn,y1 ~ Dxo,,&+1n |