wnpmsnav, soccer .23, 1922,
B, ELEANOR BOOTH SIMMONS
New Your. Saturday.
HE reasons why Lassie. Larry
I Casey‘s beautiful Gordon set-
ter. ran away from her com-
fortable hoarding place at Fort Try-
nn Hall. on the crest of Washington
Heights, and set up a dog Bolshevist
republic right' in Manhattan Bor-
ough, in the heart of the land of
muzzies and leashes, were hidden in
hvr silky black and tan head. But
Cht’l‘Chi.Z la femme! “’hatever her
motive. it was Lassie who founded
the trilvc of the Wild Dogs of In-
wood. which for three years, making
their lairs in caves among the rocks
of the wooded hillsides and in the
cellars of abandoned houses. caused
people to feel they were living in
sumo Cflyulo haunted part of the
“Wet. inrsil- hml a consort. but up
to the timv he doped with her he
had showed so liitlu character that I
am Sllrvg she was the Lenin of the
whole picturesque performance. And
waking 0' cold nights in my bod, the
winter after her disappearance. and
listening to the Weird howls that
came pivrcingly from a cave that
opened from a vacant lot on Broad-
way a fs-w bloc-ks above the 19lst
Htrret subway station, I/fancied I
could rigs-sinuuish her voice leading
the chorus,
l asiv, before she became a Bel-
Silt‘Vli-Sl, was an employee of the City
of New York. She was: aseistant to
Larry (hwy, an inspector of the
Park I‘M-p.1rtmnnt,nn«l lived with him
in a “‘e-mhrz- lwatcn stately old house
On the banks of the Harlem. Accus-
tl-nzvrl in an active llt‘o- with Larry,
prnluilily she found existence dull
when he took her to Fort Tryon Hall
and left her confinvd in the barns
there. If C. K. G. Billings, the for-
mer owner. had been there still with
hss rm‘inr: horses. there would have
bm-n something doing, but the place
was; empty except for a. few auto-
mobiles. and Lassie languished.
Perhaps seeing so many dogs in
mnzzles and loashcs gave her. in her
idleness, morose thoughts about civi-
lization. The population of the upper
rml of Manhattan Island is a popu-
lntinn of dog owners, and For: \Vash-
ington avenue, where it passes the
Fort Tryon Hall barns, is one of
their promenades. Daily many well
to (lo canine; take. their unsatisfac-
tory exercise there in resigned pac-
ing or frantic pulling at leashes, at
the sides of their music-rs and mis-
tresses. Perhaps Lassie, looking out
ml this, drmmcd of herself as the
Liberator of hnr kind.
. D K I Y
mall boy of the neighborhood gnaw
her carrying a live hen into meimve
behind the great rock 'in the vacant
lot on Bronay. Larry Casey, in-
formed of her escapade, came over
and beat about with calling and
whistling. but if she heard him she
paid no attention. To be queen of a.
pack was a heady draft, and Lassie
was queen.
cannibalism in Cave.
The pack grew by leaps and
bounds, literally. Big dogs, little
dogs. blooded dogs and monsrels
came to swell its numbers. There
are always many lost dog's; comes.
especially, have a something in their
blood that frequently will send the
most cherished pet adventuring far
from home. Some fine litters of
collie pups were born in that cave
on Broadway. Few of them lived to
doghood Their mothers had re-
‘9‘.de m type in a measure, but civi-
lization had dulled certain instincts;
they were unaware that the wild
mother when she stops nursing her
young carries them meat till they can
forage for themselves. Unable to
look out for themselves the puppies
died, and it is to be feared, too, that
when the. lean winter came there
were sad cases of cannibalism in that
cave. .
Winter is hard on these four
footed Bolshevists, but it is a fat life
they have led during the summers.
Hen roosts were robbed and two large
goats, pastured on a grassy slope on
Upper Bolton road, above the Hud-
son, were killed and eaten. I-‘thn
hunting failed there were always
garbage cans to rifle or some one's
kitchen window left unfastened with
a roast, or some sort of picking in-
side. Nothing was too trifling for the
pack to salvage. In vain did people
appeal to the Police Department and
the Society for the Prevention of
Cruelty to Animals.
A policeman took a. crack at the
dogs with his. pistol, but the dogs
Were too fleet for him. The S. P. C.
A. said it was against the law to
shoot, poison. smoke out or other-
wise main-eat the creatures. No one
ever did enter that cave except one
little boy, who. rushing in where the
police and the S. P. C. A. failed to
tread, brought out two adorable col-
lie pups.
There is a sheer drop of the hill
from Fort Tryon Hall to the Broad-
way cave, tea steep for man to climb
except at the point where steps have
hearted folk thought they were try-
ing to get down and couldn't. and
telephoned the s. P. C. A.. whose odi-
cers went up the hill. and like the
King of France. came down again.
Two years ago the tribe suddenly
changed its seat of government to
the wooded land that falls abruptly.
like a. primeval forest set on end
from Upper Bolton road to the ship
canal, as Spuyten Duyvil Inlet has
now become. Maybe the leaders
craved more room and greater retire-
ment. Anyhow. thither they went and
in those fastnesses waxed great «in
numbers. )Iighty were the foraging
parties they sent out, according to
the woman who lives in the house at
the turn of UpperéTBolton road—the-
house wherevll'oseph Keppler, forn’er
editor of Puck. lived thirty years ago.
‘ Though she has several dogs of' her
own, numerous children and a pig.
this woman has had a. heart for her
four footed Bolshevist neighbors.
Night after night when winter came
she ,cooked’a huge kettle of scrapple
and left it at the top of the hill. In
the mor ng the kettle would be
licked to a polish.
“I was sorry for the poor beasts."
this Woman told me, “and then I
Up a BolsheVISt Republic
.awful yell. I 01261196 the door, and; 1
Jimmy tumbled in, mid behind him I
saw an chop?“ dog his lawn slav-
'efing and his eyes like coals 'of fire.
I shut the door. but for an hour he
prowled around the house, an I
threw him a. bone from the soup pot,
' and he took it and ran awfiy n
Fifty dogs Gaining down upper
p .
-n\., _.
Happy, the handsome Airedale, met his death re-
sisting the call of the impress gang.
hoped giving them the scrapple
would save me getting my hem-costs
robbed. It did sometimes, maybe.
My, they did fight over that scrap-
ple! They‘d keep us awake nights
with their lnerling and yelping.
Morning's before it was light they'd
start out hunting. I'd see fifty of
them coming down the road‘licketr
split, like this."
She pedaled her hands with great
velocity, enacting the swift flight of .
the dogs.
“And they were terribly fierce."
she continued. ”One evening I sent
my boy down to Dyckman street. to
market, and by and by we heard an
Bolton road seem a good many.
Maybe the dim light of early morn~
lng confused this woman's sight. I
have never seen more than six of the
tribe at one time, though F. Hodge—
kins Silverthorne, amauthentic citi-
zen living at. 196 Seaman avenue.
tells me he has beheld twenty of
them fighting under his window at
\midnight. It seems that. not con-
tent with the natural growth that
came with voluntary recruits, they
sent out an occasional impress gang
to drag in domesticated dogs of the
neighborhood. On the night Mr.
Bilverthorne describes a Seaman
avenue collie was bold enough to de-
cline to accompany them; He bit
.the chief wild dog, and the chief .,
wild dog 111?th his head and emitted
a. war cry.
Instantly. as it seemed. the street.
was filled with canines, comiug’from
every quarter. Lean. lank,
liberty,
they ,came' and launched
themselves upon the resident collie.
who for his part put up an excellent
fight. Several of his dog neighbors-
rushed to' his assistance, and from
midnight until 2 o’clock the fight
raged. People watched them from
windows by the light of the street
lamps, but, none ventured forth, and
if there were policemen in hearing
they prudently disregarded the
racket. In the morning the collie
lay dead, and several of the neigh-
borhood dogs were nursingg painful
Wound-s.
This was in November. 1921. Las-
sie, the one time queen of the pack,
had months before dropped out of
sight. Even in these days of fem-
inist supremacy a woman couldn‘t
rule that four footed revolution long.
Lassie had imagination, daring, even
genius, but Inwood and-Washington
Heights were. getting so wary, lock-
ing up their henhouscs and all, that
the dogs needed a more desperate
and savage leader. Lassie was suc—
-ceeded by an enormous old yellow,
hound who wore a battered muzzle
hanging by one strap. He had been
able to remove his badge of servitude
._unt
washed, unshaven, but drunk with ‘
.rfieting and passed
, trained
from his nose, but to get rid of“
entirely was beyond him. Led by
this great beast; who had a premier.
also yellow,» badly, ‘eaten by the
mange but. full of fight. the. tribe
made so much noise and attacked so
many tame dogs around Seaman
avenue and 218th street that the
residentse-the human ones—held. a
resolutions
against them. , To which the outlaws
replied by collecting under the win-
dows of those who denounced them
and passing viva --voce resolutions of
defiance.
Long after the tribe moved north- ,
ward from the Fort Tryon Hall re-
gion they made frequent forays
there. One '_tba.t was important
enough to get into the newspapers
“was six months before the great
<Seaman avenue fight. G.
AXSOD
Jones, assistant treasurer of the
United States Mortgage and Trust
Company, living in Hill Cottage, a
quaint house perched on a. ledge
among the trees high above Broad-
way at 197th street, was waked one
morning by a crash and the sound
of a body hurtling past his window.
Looking out he saw, he said, eight
dogs lying in a‘ circle further down
the ravine, and plunging toward
them from the house went the great
yellow mastiff which had disturbed
his rest. In his jaws the raider carried
a legkof lamb which Mrs. Jones had
left cooling inside the kitchen win-
dow. Mr. Jones seized his gun and
it on the beasts, but, re-
flecting that Broadway stood just
below.
powerful weapon might miss its
mark and do injury to some person
down there, he decided not to shoot.
Then in the circle of dogs he saw
another reason for not firing. He
saw Teddy, his own Boston terrier.
lost , a year before. Gaunt. and
scarred and ragged, but his own
Teddy. He put down his gun and
whistled, and hearing the familiar
call Teddy started up and would
have returned. Tlfe leader wouldn‘t
let him; The great yellow beast:
walked beside the terrier, trying at
first apparently gentle dog persua-
sions. When Teddy refuseddo listen
but pressed doggedly toward his
master's voice they killed him very
emclently and laped away. the mas-
tiff leading with the leg of lamb,
Mortality List Grows.
Only a. little while after that
Happy, the handsome Airedale who
guarded the greenhouses of A. N.
Kinney, the florist on Fort Wash-
ington avenue just north or the Ab-
bey Inn, met his death resisting the
’call of the canine impress “gang.
For some months the dog repub-
lic fixed its capital under the rotting
and that a bullet from his ’
Perhaps the unrest that was in been built. Bult n was the favorite
tlu; air got into her blood-At was romping place of these dogs. I have
war time than. Perhaps she decided seen six 0: them. led by a splendid
to £11 back to Larry Casey. “’hat- white fellow an rangy and big as n
«\‘(l‘ it was. Lassie wriggletl out of calf, but much more graceful. bound-
hvxr collar and departed. But she ing back and form along an invisi-
w.is never seen in her old home. A his path on the precipice. Tender
1—— —. I 1
By WILFRID EWART,
Author of “Way of Revelation."
T was the after luncheon hour——
that hour when London life
seems to pause, when espe-
rially the \l'est End of London seems
pause. when that genteel area
,tml Iielgravia. its formal
li'“‘-l and streets and houses and
.. :mutimus, leisurely. pleasure-
:.v .;f--, seems to lie back-and,
J ftv yawn. '
ivlf‘k in one's armchair,
at the nowspaper,.one—-
#0 two British offi-
. '"deredin Kurdis—
.- -. _ g enough home to
‘ - *-~‘i-)Yl—~——SD there is a
. . 1" Tit}! for the treaty
the Prince of Wales
Ono yawns‘
o
n(’
Wi th
1". n n c
lilo street there comes
. ‘ ‘. «l >'li1'(‘at0 whistle. The
xx: hum of London has sunk to
~: rll‘». otherwise the whistle
'1" 2. .My not be noticed. But
« r- :n .‘lit‘liiy in short proclam—
li‘ London street boys
chVe-r with their fingers
mm think it was a police
‘hl'r.
r “1‘in is it? A quarter past
”'0 letters to write. there
in -< in the bureau near the
il’ll
.1 “Math: again, nearer, and
1' .'. a lw-t‘lliiiu‘ intimation of ex-
l'wrhaps a street row?
cart is unloading at the
. plmsite. The usual respecta-
‘ sec-ms to lie upon the Lon-
"Ml. . . . Silence? Quiet?
llungi Bang!
- .n taxicab comes round the
f the street very'slowly.
. two people on the driver's
" ' ‘ne of them seems to have
'i‘llitY in manipulating the
. Juil‘; a policeman hangs on
.\ .li’
r'w-t stirs.
C(«rly throng hurries round
._ about forty yards behind
~~nnt a crowd. but a. throng
‘wenty or thirty.
Earl: i'. mg! Bans!
.rum-r ill the two hundred'yu'd"
1 12"}. rump”; the QDHOde unto!“
iii-+3., ‘
Dr '1’ the car, about six 3 d.
“W n ma on each flank. so an:
‘ "‘-“ are about the unto distance
2" ""1 5r- 'h' roadway, walk two men. "
he is tall and well 4mm in a. dark
:1“; ““‘h a green soft but tilted up
k 1° back; he is dark of complex-
n' “°°' ck“ “ll-"d. with o. pustu-
co“ “"3“ up none-11. wear- ade-
emum‘d. rather
8" 11mm as if he has a bed leg; the
t idea certainly 1. mg be ll ‘
smart young American~not an Eng-
lishman. Of his companion on the
rear side there is no definite impres-
sion except that he also is a young
man. In the hand of each infla revol-
ver—an exceptionally l barreled
and forbidding revolver. The two
men are walking backward coolly
and deliberately. firing at every other
step. And- the shots sound trivial,
childish—like the explosion of caps»
in a. small boy's gum—an thex bang
hollowly between the houses.
Woman at Victim's Side.
A policeman in uniform runs along
one pavement blowing his whistle. A
man in a gray flannel shirt half
runs, half walks along the center of
the roadway. There are two or three
other men in gray flannel shirts and
braces and dark trousers—then the
throng of chauffeurs and butlers’ and
errand boys and roadmen and nonde~
scripts.
Servants rush up area steps, ladies
and gentlemen crowd out on bal-
conies, coffee cup in hand. There is
a. little incoherent shouting; there is
booting of motor horns. .
Is it a cinema rehearsal? Is tho‘
green taxicab being “held up"? Is
there money in it? Or is it some
' practical Joke 7
Then one realizes something.
One rushes down stairs, seizes hat
and stick—habit never deserts one—
and out into the street.
Just round the corner where they
have taken the road up a, florid man
in a. gray flannel shirt is lying on‘a.
heap of sand. A group of neighbors
is gathering round: a woman is
kneeling beside him. Against the
railing leans a. chaun‘eur with blood
dripping from his leg into a neat
pool on the pavamentn. Some erg
"Telephone “for a doctor!" Others
“Fetch brandy! " Others “Poor chap.
he’- shot through the stomach!"
Nobody is frightened: nobody par-
uculany excited. ‘
The hue and cry retreating down
the street has turned to the left. In
its white people are looking at one
another with half amused, mg
amazed glances.
"What have they no?" '3“.
they broken into a. house?" “Why,
they've murdered somebody—two or
three people are shot down the road.-
“It'- a proper ,holdup—e regular
gang." “Don't. follow, you'll get
shot"--a.nd like exhortations are
heard at every street corner. at‘
evw‘y ca. steps.
Cut down the second turning on
the left! They can't get far. The:
brutal. expression.“ m ”heading mm. toward “”1
police-tenemuldthemum-
armament. All! when“
*- is... 4 .
An Episode in Belgravia
are. The throng streams dovsn the
side streets. now like a pack of
hounds in sight ofits prey. There
is no longer sound of shots, but the
crowd obscures the view. People
rush out on balconies. The Crowd
suddenly becomes stationary. It I:
impossible to see what is happening.
‘ The crowd sways and presses round
one spot in the center of the road-'
way. There is a struggle. An ugly
snarl goes up. If the crowd was
bigger and if it realized what had!
happened down the road it would be
uglier—and more dangerous.
. What’s llAll About?
Suddenly the people turn back.
All are looking at; something six
policemen are carrying—a big pow-
erful man, still resisting as" best he
may. H7: is hatless, hiscoat is open.
his face and neck are a dull. red, the
veins standing out. He is the em~
bodiment of defiance, brutal helpless
defiance. the fury of a powerful ani-
mal trapped.
"Serves him right!
swing for it:
, "Here /comes ,the other. Some-'
body's caught ‘lm on the 'ead. 'E
ain't 'arf bleedln'. Look!" ‘
Anger arises—has risen. A curi-
ous impersonal hatred takes 'posses-
slob of you. Given the slightest ex-
cuse ~and not knowing the fullness
of the deed, you might pity them—
their blood. their struggles, plight.
the mere‘ fact that all are against
them. Instead of which you wish
that lynching was practiced in Eng-
land.
They disappear inside the police
’1 hope they
station. You try to find out what it
is all about. how many were en-
gaged. A policeman says it is a
gang of prt’li'essional burglars on
which they have long had their eye.
You repair to the starting point.
People have collected by this time.
They are standingr’talking on the
curb, at area gates, on front door
steps. Still by the railings is the
small neat pool of blood. The man
in the my shirt—a. policeman half
dressed just as he dashed out of the
station—43 being lifted into a motor
ambulance a lady who has evidently
done nursing is helping them
The amlmlinco 3fi‘lOVes round the
corner nunide the little watch-
maker' 5 where there is a. cuz- (13-3“:
another man has been wounded.
They lift him in, too.
An acquaintance comes up. She
is dressed in the height of season-
able fashion, with a parasol. She is
perturbed but not flustered.
“I was strolling along when one
of them jumped into a. Victoria. which
was standing beside the curb. At that
moment a. policeman came up and
the man turned round-and fired just
past my head. "
There is excitement abroad, and
resentment —— no fright —- nobody
knows what to make of it.
’ “It‘s Stun Feinera—bet your life!”
A famous name is mentioned.
“They' ve shot him but he's not dead.
Somebody told me who's just come
from the house. It's true" . . .
One frankly refuses to believe it.
Rumor always grows. Ono sensa‘
tion breeds another. '
After all, every disaster is due to
Sinn Felners—or Bolshevists!
But there is a steady movement up
the street. At the corner on the
right hand side stands an exception—
ally large house. One or two police-
men linger outside. The front door
is open. Some housemaids and a.
{I‘he' Rival 5015 the ’Alps
By W. HARVEY JELLIE.
HE PymneeHhe massive
I . mountain wall that marks
the. frontier between gay
France and sunny Spain—are slowly
attaining theirnlue popularity with
the traveler who roams. in search of
noble scenery and fascinating local-
ltles. . 7
The Alps have long monopolized
butler are talking on the doorstep.
Some men are mending the road.
'"He got out of the taxi and they
shot him just as he was turning
the key" . . .
"‘W’hy don't they arm the police
with revolvers? They'll have to
‘ now.”
“There were revolvers in the police
station, I understand, but no ammu-
nition. " ’
“It’s a. disgrace” . .
At this moment red blinds are
lowered in the front windows of the
house.
the interest of the tourist and thou-
sands of Americans in their annual
pilgrimage to the historic spots of
Europe have ‘promised themselves
a fortnight amid Helvetla‘s snow-
clad heights‘ and verdant valleys as
a kind of moral and intellectual
tonic after doing their duty to the
heated cities. and enervating plains
of France and Italy.
But the Alps have a rival in the
vi~.
To“
m
. but these tailed Bolshevists of In-
door of a mu demolished barn on
the rambling estate that runs along
218th street at the head of Seaman
avenue. Columbia University had
acquired this property for a stadium.
wood have no more respect ‘far an
ancient institution or learning than"
they have for a squatters chicken 7
coop.
Nightly they slept in the snug "
cellar, snarled over the loot thiir
raiders brought in, or not on the
floor timbers and bayed at the moon.
It took a determined little woman to
get rid of them. She was caretaker
on the estate. and she demanded u!
the Police Department that thée
' dogs be driven away.
second precinct sent a company of, .»
So the Forty-7’
sharpshooters, picked men who had -
distinguished themselves in the war, I
and these crack shots, lying in the" -
tall grass and weeping upon the
enemy, killed some of them and J
drove the others away.
Not, however, wholly away. The
pack is scattered but not destroyed;
and there are signs that the lust for 7 '
freedom still burns fiercely in cer-"
.tain wandering canine breasts '0! If”
Inwood and Washington Heights. It
isn't the pure flame that it was
when, Lassie, Larry Casey's Gordon
setter, made her brave revolt against ,1
leashes and license tags and muzzles , L
and all the ignominy of man‘s do-
minion. Like many ano ‘he: revolu-
tion it drew unto itself elements
that went near to destroy it. and the
very conditions under which the dog
republic existed made of each mem-
ber an outlaw with his paw against
every man. One can forgive this.
but one can " hardly forgive their
paws being against their fellow dogs
who refuse to become Bolshevists.
Only last spring a. dog detachment
descended by night upon the house«
boat colony at 207th street and the
Ship Canal and murdered the harm-
less little spaniel that dwelt in the
haunted house standing in the shade
of the big tulip tree. The spaniel's
master, Carl Fritchie, had leased the
house, exercised the ghost and cre-
ated a. home that any dog would-b9
a fool to leave to become a hungry
pariah for any amount of freedom.
That apparently was the conviction
the spaniel acted upon when the
wild dogs came down like wolves on
the fold and surrounded him. Mr.
Fritchie, watching the monstrous
struggle in the dim light, could not
shoot for danger of hitting his pet
and suddenly the marauders dashed '
away, leaving a mangled little body
behind them. This is really a pity;
it puts one out of all conceit with
revolutions. -
.
And the whole thing is making
‘Washington Heights and Inwood.-~'7"
feel that strenuous methods must be
adopted to prevent the scattered dog
soviet from welding itself together
again. ‘
' expand in luxuriant; pastures cov-
Pyrenees, whose popularity is grow~
lug year by year on every score.
And so strong has become the lure?
of these lordly mountains upon the
present writer that he feels com—
pelled to speak of their limitless at-
tractivenesg to every tourist who
cares to leave the beaten tracks and
explore new fields.
In shape somewhat like a. giant
fern the mountain range stretches
from Atlantic to Mediterranean, its
vast frondlike spurs reaching out
into France and Spain, while the in-
tervening valleys form “ports," or
trade routes. between the sister
countries. It matters not by which '
route we cross the range, we find
the same everchanglng variety of.
soul ravishing scenery. Rich valleys
merge into foothills, clad in vine and
maize. Then the gradient increases
and the wall of frowning crags
seems to close in upon the traveler,
while a. hundred waterfalls leap
down the mountainsides amid the
forests of beach and pine to swell
the brawling cataracts that speed
onward to the ,Adour and the _'
Saronne.
For a. space, the higher valleys
cred with herds of great horned mt-
tle and large limbed goats. But as
we near the upper reaches, all is
wild crag and frowning precipice, 7 '
icy glacier and gleaming snfivdrift.’
Deep blue lakes sleep among the"
mountains and lively pines cling'to
the avalanche swept slopes. Grace-'-
ful little izards bound along thin-I
accessible heights and vultures db,
cle round overhead. And the mar-
vel of all this little known world of
beauty and' grandeur in; that it is '
still unspoiled by the "civifizing'
touch of fashionable hotels and
"modérn" comforts.
I once met an American tourist in;
the austere and glorious Cirque do
Savarnie, 10, 000 feet above the sea;
with the great amphitheater of five
miles of encircling marble mounf
talnswallinginthe valley. Andho
exclaimed: "I guess I know pearly
all that two continents have to show .
but here is nature‘s finest piece of’
handiwork." ,
The Pyrenees appeal to every pos-
sible human interest and awaken
every imaginable passion. nil!
Norwalk Chronicler