au,
SYNOPSIS
CHAPTER l.—Arriving at the lonely
tle railroad station of El Cajon, New
exico, Madeline Hammond, New York
1, finds no one to meet her. While in
e waiting rocm a drunken cowboy en-
, asks if she is married, and departs,
ving her terrified, He returns with a
est, who goes through some sort of
remony, and the cowboy forces her to
say ‘‘SiL.” Asking her name and learning
her identity the cowboy seems dazed. In
shooting scrape outside the room a
exican Is killed.
1, “Bonita,” take his horse and escape,
en conducts Madeline to Florence
sley, friend of her brother.
CHAPTER I1.—Florence welcomes her,
learns her story, and dismisses the cow-
boy, Gene Stewart. Next day Alfred
Hammond, Madeline's brother, takes
Stewart to task. Madeline exonerates
him of any wrong intent.
CHAPTER IIl.—Alfred, scion of a
Fealthy family, had been dismissed from
8 home because of his dissipation.
Madeline sees that the West has re-
deemed him. She meets Stillwell, Al's
employer, typical -<western ranchman.
Madeline learns Stewart has gone over
the border.
CHAPTER IV.—Danny Mains, one of
Btillwell’'s cowboys, has disappeared,
with some of Stillwell’s money. His
friends link his name with the girl Bo-
CHAPTER V.—Madeline gets a glimpse
of life on a western ranch,
CHAPTER VI.—Stewart’s horse comes
to the ranch with a note on the saddle
asking Madeline to accept the beautiful
animal. With her brother’s consent she
does so, naming him ‘‘Majesty,” her own
pet nickname. Madeline, independently
rich, arranges to buy Stillwell’'s ranch
gaa that of Don Carlos, a Mexican neigh-
Tr.
CHAPTER VII.—Madeline feels she
has found her right place, under the light
of the western stars.
CHAPTER VII1.—Learning Stewart had
been hurt in a brawl at Chiricahua, and
knowing her brother's fondness for him,
Madeline visits him and persuades him to
come to the ranch as the boss of her
cowboys.
CHAPTER IX.-Jim Nels, Nick Steele,
and “Monty” Price are Madeline’s chief
riders. They have a feud with Don Car-
los’ vaqueros, who are really guerrillas.
Madeline pledges Stewart to see that
peace is kept
CHAPTER X.—Madeline and Florence,
returning home from Alfred’s ranch, run
into an ambush of vaqueros. Florence,
knowing the Mexicans are after Made-
line, decoys them away, and Madeline
gets home safely but alone,
CHAPTER XI.—A raiding guerrilla
band carries off Madeline. Stewart fol-
lows alone, The leader is a man with
whom Stewart had served in Mexico. He
releases the girl, arranging for ransom.
Returning home with Stewart, Madeline
finds herself strangely stirred.
Then, mounting, he slipped behind
her and lifted and turned her, and
then held her with his left arm so
that she lay across the saddle and his
knees, her head against his shoulder.
As the horse started into a rapid
walk Madeline gradually lost all pain
and discomfort when she relaxed her
muscles. Presently she let herself go
For a Little While She Seemed to Be
Half Drunk With the Gentle Sway.
¢ ingofa Hammock Jo
Ne
and lay inert, greatly to her relief.
For a little while she seemed to be
half drunk with the gentle swaying of
a hammock. Her mind became at once
dreamy and active, as if it thought:
fully recorded the slow, soft impres-
gions pouring in from all her senses.
She could not believe the evidence of
the day’s happenings. Would any of
her people, her friends, ever believe
it? Could she tell it? She remem-
bered the ghoulish visages of those
starved rebels, and marveled at her
blessed fortune in escaping them.
Stewart's arrival in the glade, the
courage with which he had faced the
outlawed men, grew as real to her now
as the iron arm that clasped her. Had
it been an instinct which had impor-
tuned her to save this man when he
lay ill and hopeless in the shack at
Chiricahua? In helping him had she
hedged round her forces that had just
operated to save her life, or if not
that, more than life was to her? She
‘believed so.
A heavy languor, like a blanket, be-
gan to steal upon her. She wavered
and drifted. With the last half-con-
The cowboy lets a |
LIGHT: OF
"WESTERN
ANY YAN
,
v7 A Romance
<=
scious sense of a muffled throb at her
ear, a something intangibly sweet,
deep-toned, and strange, like a distant
calling bell, she fell asleep with her
head on Stewart's breast.
CHAPTER XII
Friends From the East.
Three days after her return to the
ranch Madeline could not discover any
physical discomfort as a reminder of
her adventurous experiences. If it had
nat been fer the quiet and persistent
guardianship of her cowboys she might
almost have forgotten Don Carios ead
the raiders. Madeline was assured of
the splendid physical fitness to which
this ranch life had developed her, anc
that she was assimilating something
of the Western disregard of danger.
A hard ride, an accident, a day in the
sun and dust, an adventure with out
lJaws—these might once have been
matters of large impori, but now for
Madeline they were in order with all
the rest of her changed life.
There was never & day thal some
thing interesting was not brought to
her notice. Sillwell, who had cease-
lessly reproached himself for riding
away the morning Madeline was cap-
tured, grew more like 2m anxious par-
ent than a faithful superintendent. He
was never at ease regarding her unless
he was near the ranch or had left
Stewart there, or else Nels and Nick
Steele. Naturally. he trusted more to
Stewart than to any one else.
“Miss Majesty, it’s sure amazin’
strange about Gene,” said the old cat-
tleman, as he tramped into Madeline's
office.
“What's the matter now?’ she in-
quired. .
“Wal, Gene has rustled off into the
mountains again. He's sneaked oft,
an’ Nels, who was down to the lower
trail, saw him meet somebody that
looked like Padre Marcos. Wal, I went
down to the church, and, sure enough,
Padre Marcos is gone. What do you
think of that, Miss Majesty?”
“Maybe Stewart is getting religious,”
langhed Madeline. “Let him take his
mysterious trips into the mountains.
Here, Stillwell, I have news for you
that may give you reason for worry. I
have letters from home. And my sis-
ter, with a party of friends, is coming
out to visit me. They are society folk,
and one of them is an English lord.
Let me read you a few extracts from
my mail.”
Madeline took up her sister's letter
with a strange sensation of how eas
ilv sight of a crested monogram and
scent of delicately perfumed paper
could recall the brilliant life she had
given up. She scanned the pages of
beautiful handwriting. Helen seldom
wrote letters, and she never read any-
thing, not even popular novels of the
day. She was as absolutely ignorant
of the West as the Englishman, who,
she said, expected to hunt buffalo and
ficht Indians. Moreover, there was a
satiric note in the letter that Made-
line did not like, and which roused
her spirit.
When she finished reading aloud a
few paragraphs the old cattleman
snorted and his face grew redder.
“Did your sister write that?’ he
asked, “Does she think we're a lot of
wild men from Borneo?”
“Evidently she does. I rather think
she is in for a surprise. Now, Still-
well, you are clever and you can see
the situation. I want my guests to en-
joy their stay here, but I do not want
that to be at the expense of the feel-
Ings of all of us, or even any one.
Helen will bring a lively crowd.
They'll crave excitement—the unusual.
Let us see that they are not disap-
pointed. ' You take the boys into your
confidence. Tell them what to expect,
and tell them how to meet it. I shall
help you in that. I want the boys to
be on dress-parade when they are off
duty. 1 want them to be on their
most elegant behavior. I do not care
what they do, what measures they
take to protect themselves, what tricks
they contrive, so long as they do not
overstep the limit of kindness and
courtesy. I want them to play their
parts seriously, naturally, as if they
had lived no other way. My guests
expect to have fun. Let us meet them
with fun. Now what do you say?”
Stillwell rose, his great bulk tower-
ing, his huge face beaming.
“Wal, 1 say it’s the most amazin’
fine idee I ever heerd in my life.”
“Indeed, I am glad you like it,” went
on Madeline. “Come to me again,
Stillwell, after you have spoken to
the boys. But, now that I have sug-
gested it, I am a little afraid. You
know what cowboy fun is. Perhaps—"
“Don’t you go back on that idee,”
interrupted Stillwell. He was assur-
ing and bland, but his hurry to con-
vince Madeline betrayed him. “Leave
the boys to me. Why, don’t they all
swear by you, same as the Mexicans
do to the Virgin? They won't disgrace
you, Miss Majesty. They'll be simply
immense, It'll beat any show you ever
seen.”
“I believe it will,” replied Madeline.
“Very well, we will consider it settled.
My guests will arrive on May ninth.
Meanwhile let us get Her Majesty's
Rancho in shape for this invasion.”
* * * » \d *® *
On the afternoon of the ninth of
May, perhaps half an hour after Made-
line had received a telephone message
from Link Stevens announcing the ar-
rival of her guests at El Cajon, Flor-
ence called her out upon the porch,
Stillwell was there with his face wrin-
kled by his wonderful smile and his
eagle eyes riveted upon the distant
valley. Far away, perhaps twenty
miles, a thin streak of white dust rose
from the valley floor and slanted sky-
ward.
“Look!” said Florence, excitedly.
“What is that?” asked Madeline,
“Link Stevens and the automobile!”
“Oh no! Why, it’s only a few min-
utes since he telephoned saying the
party had just arrived.”
“Take a look with the glasses,” said
Florence.
One glance through the powerful
binoculars convinced Madeline that
Florence was right. And another
glance at Stillwell told her that he was
speechless with delight. “Wal, as Nels
says, I wouldn't be in that there ot-
tomobile right now for a million
pesos,” he remarked.
“Why? Is Steveus driving fast?”
“Good Lord! Fast? Miss Majesty,
there hain’t ever been anythin’ except
a streak of lightnin’ run so fast in this
country. I reckon I'd like to be hyar
when Link drives up, but I want to be
with the boys down by the bunks. It'll
be some fun to see Nels an’ Monty
when Link comes flyin’ along.”
“I wish Al had stayed to meet them,”
said Madeline.
Her brother had rather hurried =
shipment of cattle to California: and
fc was Madeline's supposition that he
liad welcomed the opportunity to ab-
sent himself from the ranch.
“] am sorry he wouldn't stay,” re
plied Florence. “But Al's all business
now. And he's doing finely. It's just
as well, perhaps.”
“Surely. That was my pride speak-
ing. I would like to have all my fam-
ily and all my old friends see what a
man Al has become. Well, Link Stev-
ens is running like the wind. The car
will be here before we know it. Flor-
ence, we've only a few moments to
dress. But first I want to order many
and various and exceedingly cold re-
freshments for that approaching
party.”
Less than a half-hour later Madeline
went again to the porch and found
Florence there.
“Oh, you look just lovely!” ex:
claimed Florence, impulsively, as she
gazed wide-eyed up at Madeline. “And
somehow so different!”
Madeline smiled a little sadly. Per-
haps when she had put on that ex-
quisite white gown something had
come to her of the manner which bew
fitted the wearing of it. She could not
{ resist the desire to look fair once more
in the eyes of these hypercritical
friends. The sad smile had been for
the days that were gone. For she
knew that what society had once heen
pleased to call her beauty had trebled
since it had last been seen in a draw-
ing-room. Madeline wore no jewels,
but at her waist she had pinned two
great crimson roses. Against the dead
white they had the life and fire and
redness of the desert.
“Link’s hit the old round-up trail.”
said Florence, “and oh, isn’t he riding
that car!”
With Florence, as with most. of the
cowboys, the car was never driven.
but ridden.
A white spot with a long trail of
dust showed low down in the valley.
It was now headed almost straight for
the ranch. Madeline watched it grow-
ing larger moment by moment, and
her pleasurable emotion grew accord- |
ingly. Then the rapid beat of a horse’s
hoofs caused her to turn.
Stewart was riding in on his black
horse. He had been absent on an im-
portant mission, and his duty had
taken him to the international bound-
ary line. His presence home long be-
fore he was expected was particularly
gratifying to Madeline, for it meant
that his mission had been brought to a
successful issue. Once more, for the
hundredth time, the man’s reliability
struck Madeline. He was a doer of
things.
Madeline advanced to the porch
steps. And Stewart, after taking a
parcel of papers from a saddle-bag,
turned toward her.
“Stewart, you are the best of
couriers,” she said. “I am pleased.”
Dust streamed from his sombrero as
he doffed it. His dark face seemed to
rise as he straightened weary shoul-
ders.
“Here are the reports, Miss Ham-
mond,” he replied.
As he looked up to see her standing
there, dressed to receive her eastern
guests, he checked his advance with
a violent action which recalled to
Madeline the one he had made on the
night she had met him, when she dis-
closed her identity. A man struck by
a bullet might have had an instant jerk
of muscular control such as convulsed
Stewart. In that instént, as her keen
gaze searched his dust-caked face, she
met the full, free look of his eyes. Her
own did not fall, though she felt a
warmth steal to her cheeks. Madeline
very seldom blushed. And now, con-
scious of her sudden color, a genuine
blush flamed on her face. It was frri-
tating because it was incomprehensi-
ble. She recelved the papers from
Stewart and thanked him. He bowed,
then lea the black down the path to-
ward the corrals, ’
Madeline watched the weary horse
and rider limp down the path. What
had made her thoughtful? Mostly it was
something new or sudden or inexplic-
able that stirred her mind to quick
analysis. In this instance the thing
that had struck Madeline was Stew-
art’s glance. He had looked at her,
and the old burning, inscrutable fire,
the darkness, had left his eyes. Sud-
denly they had been beautiful. The
look had not been one of surprise or
admiration; nor had it been one of
love. She was familiar, too familiar
with all three. It had not been a gaze
of passion, for there was nothing
beautiful in that. Madeline pondered.
And presently she realized that Stew-
And Now, Conscious of Her Sudden
Color, a Genuine Blush Flamed on
Her Face.
art's eves had expressed a stranve |
or pride. ‘That expression Madelin.:
had never before encountered in thw
look of any man. Probably its strange-
ness had made her notice it and ac:
counted for her blushing. The longer
she lived among these outdoor en
the more they surprised her. Partien-
larly, how incomprehensible was this
cowboy Stewart! Why should he have
pride or joy at sight of her?
The approaching automobile was ou
the slope now, some miles down the
long gradual slant. Its velocity was
astounding. Long, gray veils, like pen-
nants, streamed in the wind. A low
rushing sound became perceptible, and
it grew louder, became a roar. The
car shot like an arrow past the alfalfa
field,” by the bunk-houses. where the
cowboys waved and cheered. The
horses and burros in the corrals began
to snort and tramp and race in fright.
At the base of the long slope of the
foothill Link cut the speed more than
half. Yet the car roared up, rolling
the dust, flying capes and veils and ul-
sters, and crashed and cracked to a
halt in the yard before the porch,
Madeline descried a gray, disheveled
mass of humanity packed inside the
car. Besides the driver there were
seven occupants, and for a moment
they appeared to be coming to life,
moving and exclaiming under the veils
and wraps and dust-shields. :
Link Stevens stepped out and, re-
moving helmet and goggles, coolly
looked at his watch.
“An hour an’ a quarter, Miss Ham-
mond,” he said. “It’s sixty-three miles
by the valley road, an’ you Know
there's a couple of bad hills. I reckon
we made fair time, considerin’ you
wanted me to drive slow an’ safe.”
From the mass of dusty-veiled hu-
! manity in the car came low exclaiir
tions and plaintive feminine wails.
Madeline stepped to the front of the
porch. Then the deep voices of men
and softer voices of women united in
' one glad outburst, as much a thanks-
giving as a greeting, “Majesty!”
* . * * * *
av
*
Helen Hammond was three years
younger than Madeline, and a slender,
pretty girl. Having recovered her
, breath soon after Madeline took her to
her room, she began to talk,
“Majesty, old girl, I'm here; but you
can bet I would never have gotten here
if IT had known about that ride from
the railroad. You never wrote that
you had a car. I thought this was out
West—stage-coach. and all that sort of |
; thing. Such a tremendous car! And,
the road! What kind of a chauffeur]
‘is he?” !
“He’s a cowboy. He was crippled
by falling under his horse, so I had
him instructed to run the car. He can’
drive, don’t you think?”
“Drive? Good gracious! He scared |
us to death, except Castleton. Nothing
could scare that cold-blooded little |
Englishman. I am dizzy yet. Do you |
know, Majesty, I was delighted when |
I saw the car. Then your cowboy '
driver met us at the platform. What |
a queer-looking individual! He had a
big pistol strapped to those leather!
i trousers. That made me nervous.
When he piled us all in with our grips,
he put me in the seat beside him,
whether I liked it or not. I was fool’
enough to tell him I loved to travel.
fast. What do you think he said?
Well, he eyed me in a rather cool and:
speculative way and said, with a smile, |
‘Miss, I reckon anything you love an’|
want bad will be coming to you out:
here!’ I didn’t know whether it was
delightful candor or impudence. Then,
he said to all of us: ‘Shore you had.
better wrap up in the veils an’ dusters, !
It's a long, slow, hot, dusty ride to the’
ranch, an’ Miss Hammond's order was
to drive safe’ He got our baggage
checks and gave them to a man with
a huge wagon and a four-horse team.
Then he cranked the car, jumped in,
wrapped his arms round the wheel, '
and sank down low in his seat. There
was a crack, a jerk, a kind of flash!
around us, and that dirty little town,
was somewhere on the map behind.
For about five minutes I had a lovely
time. Then the wind began to tear)
me to pieces. 1 couldn't hear any-:
thing but the rush of wind and roar of |
the car. I could see only straight]
ahead. What a road! I never saw u
road in my life till today. Miles and.
miles and miles ahead, with not even
a post or tree. That big car seemed]
to leap at the miles. It hummed and:
sang. I was fascinated, then terrified. !
We went so fast I couldn’t catch my |
breath. The wind went through me,
and I expected to be disrobed by it’
any minute. I was afraid I couldn't
hold any clothes on. Presently all I
could see was a flashing gray wall
with a white line in the middle. Then
my eyes blurred. My face burned. My
ears grew full of a hundred thousand
howling devils. I was about ready to
die when the car stopped. I looked
and looked, and when I could see,
there you stood!”
“Helen, I thought you were fond of
speeding,” said Madeline, with a laugh.
“] was. But I assure you I never
before was in a fast car; I never met
a driver.”
“Perhaps 1 may have a few sur-
prises for you out here in the wild and
woolly West.”
Helen's dark eyes showed a sister's
memory of possibilities.
“You've started weil,” she said. *I
am simply stunned. I expected to find
you old and dowdy. Majesty, you're
the handsomest thing I ever laid eyes
on. You're so splendid and strong,
and your skin is like white gold.
What's happened to you? What's
changed you?
of this
Majesty,
dark
house!
sweetness
I know you,
you have made a home out here.
"That's the most stunning surprise of |
all. Come, confess. I know I've al
ways been selfish and not much of a
sister; but if you are happy out here
1 am glad. You were not happy ar
home. Tell me about yourself ana
about Alfred. Then I shall give you
all the messages and news from the
Bast.”
It afforded Madeline exceeding pleas-
ure to have from one and all of her
guests varied encomiums of her beau-
tiful home, and a real and warm inter-
est in what promised to be a delight-
ful and memorable visit.
Of them all Castleton was the only
one who failed to show surprise. He
greeted her precisely as he had when
he had last seen her in London. Made-
line, rather to her astonishment, found
meeting him again pleasurable. She
discovered she liked this imperturbable
Englishman. Manifestly her capacity
for liking any one had immeasurably
enlarged. Quite unexpectedly her old
girlish love for her younger sister
sprang into life, and with it interest
in these half-forgotten friends, and a
warm regard for Edith Wayne, a chum
of college days.
Edith Wayne was a patrician bru-
nette, a serious, soft-voiced woman,
sweet and kindly, despite a rather bif-
ter experience that had left her world-
ly wise. Mrs. Carrollton Beck, a
plain, lively person, had chaperoned
the party. The fourth and last of the
feminine contingent was Miss Dorothy
Coombs—Dot, as they called her—a
young woman of attractive blond pret-
tiness.
For a man Castleton was of very
small stature. He had a pink-and-
white complexion, a small golden mus-
tache, and his heavy eyelids, always
drooping, made him look dull. His at-
tire, cut to what appeared to be an ex-
aggerated English style, attracted at-
tention to his diminutive size. He was
immaculate and fastidious. Robert
Weede was a rather large florid young |
man, remarkable only for his good na-
ture. Counting Boyd Harvey, a hand-
some, pale-faced fellow, with the care-
less smile of the man for whom life
had been easy and pleasant, the party
was complete,
“Majesty, have you planned any fun,
any excitement for us?’ asked Helen.
“Above all, Majesty, we want some-
thing to happen.”
“My dear sister, maybe you will have
yeur wish fulfilled,” replied Madeline,
soberly. “Edith, Helen has made me
curious about your especial yearning.”
“Majesty, it is only that I wanted
to be with you for a while,” replied
this old friend.
There was in the wistful reply, ac-
companied by a dark and eloquent
glance of eyes, that told Madeline of
Edith’s understanding, of her sympa-
thy, and perhaps a betrayal of her own
unquiet soul. It saddened Madeline.
How many women might there not be
who had the longing to break down
the bars of their cage, but had not the
spirit!
CHAPTER XII
Cowboy Golf.
In ‘the whirl of the succeeding days
fn was a mooted question whether
Madeline's guests or her cowboys or
herself got the keenest enjoyment out
of the flying time. Considering the
sameness of the cowboys’ ordinary
life, she was inclined to think they
made the most of the present. Still-
well and Stewart, however, had found
the situation trying. The work of the
ranch had to go on, and some of it got
sadly neglected. Stillwell could not
resist the ladies any more than he
could resist the fun in the extraor-
dinary goings on of the cowboys. Stew-
art alone kept the business of cattle-
raising from a serious setback. Early’
and late he was in the saddle, driving
the lazy Mexicans whom he had hired
to relieve the cowboys.
One morning in June Madeline was
sitting on the porch with her merry
friends when Stillwell appeared on the
corral path. He had not come to con-
sult Madeline for several days—an
omission so unusual as to be remarked.
“Here comes Bill—in trouble,”
laughed Florence.
This beautiful room, |
those glorious roses out there, the cool, |
wonderful |
and, ,
though you never wrote it, I believe |
Indeed, he bore some faint resem-
blance to a thundercloud as he ap-
proached the porch; but the greetings [
|
I'm a Sad De-
moralized Old Cattieman,” He Said
Presently.
“Miss Majesty, Sure
he got from Madeline’s party, especial
lv from Helen and Dorothy, chased
away the blackness from his face and
brought the wonderful wrinkling smile.
“Miss Majesty, sure I'm a sad de-
moralized old cattleman.” he said,
| presently. ‘An’ I'm in need of a heap
of help.”
“Vary wcll; unburden yourself.”
“wal the cowbovs have 2one nHlumh
batty, jest plain crazy over this heah
game of gol-lof.”
A merry peal of mirth greeted Stili-
well’s solemn assertion.
“Qh, Stillwell, you are in fun,” re-
plied Madeline.
“I hope to die if 'm not in daid
earnest,” declared the cattleman. “It’s
an amazin’ strange fact. Ask Flo.
She’ll tell you. She knows cowboys,
an’ how if they ever start on somethin’
they ride it as they ride a hoss.”
Florence being appealed to, and evi-
dently feeling all eyes upon her, mod-
estly replied that Stillwell had scarce-
ly misstated the situation. .
“Cowboys play like they work or
fight,” she added. “They give their
whole souls to it. They are great big
simple boys.”
“Indeed they are,” said Madeline.
“Oh, I'm glad if they like the game of
golf. They have so little play.”
“Wal, somethin’s got to be did if
we're to go on raisin’ cattle at Her
Majesty's Rancho,” replied Stillwell.
He appeared both deliberate and re-
signed. :
(To be continued).
tr—————————(———————
What is a Steel Trap.
The gruesome and disgusting fea-
tures of the steel trap are a constant
and discouraging source of worry for
those persons who understand the suf-
fering and cruelties which the dumb
creatures of the woods and forest
must endure. To be suddenly gripped
in the rusted steel jaws of a soulless
trap must be a nerve-racking and hor-
rifying sensation for those small ani-
| mals which, after the ruthless hunter
i has finally retired with his weapon,
venture out at night in search of food.
An acquaintance of the writer, who
considered himself a great trapper of
muskrats, once told of a case in which
he caught one of the luckless little
creatures whose small legs were mere-
ly stumps grown over with fur, the
tiny feet having been gnawed off in
anguish and pain when the grim teeth
of the trap clung so tenaciously to its
legs. The little creature had been
caught at least three times and in
every case had managed to extricate
itself after much pain and misery.
Such conditions are certainly enough
to demand the abolition of the barbar-
ous trapping practice.
Worst Year for Coccidiosis.
From all indications this will be the
worst year for coccidiosis in young
chicks in the history of the poultry
industry, says Professor Monroe, of
the poultry extension staff of The
Pennsylvania State College.
Ordinarily this disease affects the
growing chicks during the months of
May and June, especially during
warm, wet weather. In spite of the
cool weather this spring Prof. Monroe
says that he has found this dreaded
disease in flocks all over the State
since the first of April.
Crowded and insanitary conditions
are the most common causes of this
disease. In its prevention, farmers
and others are advised to feed milk at
all times, not to overfeed with
scratch grain, keep the house clean
and rear the chicks on clean ground.
Do not crowd, overheat or chill the
chicks.
In the treatment, feed all the milk
the birds can drink, giving no water.
Feed moist mash twice a day and give
no other feed. Strict sanitation
should be observed in house and yards.
—Get your job work done here.
——There are thousands of acres of
fertile soil in northeastern Wyoming,
that are not producing a thing but
grass, and what the country needs is
thousands of men who are willing to
wor kand who will deevlop this land
and cause it to bring forth sixty and
a hundred fold more than it is doing
now.
Large Goitre Reduced
Pennsylvania Lady Tells How.
Mrs. Libbie Patterson, Chambersburg,
Pa., says she will tell or write how she re-
duced a large goitre with Sorbol Quadru-
ple, a colorless liniment.
Get free information at Parrish’s drug
store, all drug stores, or write Box 338,
Mechanicsburg, Ohio, 68-23