Oliver
October
By
AIS 32 OS I AURIS
Capyright, Bell Syndicate (WNU Service)
(Continued from last week.)
“Doctor Lansing,” she cried, “we
must return to Oliver's house immedi-
ately. He will have to come over to
our house— Better still, Sammy, you
must drive him up to the city. Tonight
At once. I am frightened. Something
terrible is afoot. I know it. I feel it.
It is so still. Look! Why aren't the
street lamps in Maple avenue lighted?
It is as dark as—"
“By jingo, Lansing,” exclaimed
Sammy, starting up from his seat to
peer over the windshield. “See that?
Men running across Maple avenue.
*Way up yonder where that arc light
is at Fiddler street. Three or four
men. Didn't you see them?”
“We must beat it back to Oliver's,”
half-shouted Lansing, excitedly.
“Take the women home first,” or-
dered Sammy, “and then come back.
I'll go ahead.”
“Wait!” commanded Mr. Sage.
“Drive on up Maple, Sammy. Follow
those men. See what they are up to.
They are headed for the swamp road.
Lansing and I will follow you in a
jiffy. Drive like the devil!” he shout-
ed in ringing tones.
“No, no, no!” screamed Jane. “The
other way! To Oliver's! I will not
go home. I'm going to him! Turn
around—turn around! Do you hear
me?” :
“Where in God's name are the po-
lice?” cried Josephine.
“We can't take you back there,”
cried Lansing. “H—1 may be to pay.
It's no place for women, Jane. Sit
still! Ill have you home in two min-
utes.”
“1 will jump out! I swear to heaven
I will,” she cried shrilly.
“Turn back!” commanded Jane's
mother. “I am not afraid of them.
Jane is not afraid. We cannot desert
Oliver if he is in danger. Please God,
he may not be. Turn back, I say!”
“Yes!” cried the minister. “We
must get to Oliver—all of us!”
The two cars made reckless turns
in the narrow street and were off like
the wind.
CHAPTER XII
The Hanging
Since ten o'clock men by twos and
threes and fours had been making
their way through back streets and
lanes to an appointed spot an eighth
of a mile east of the Baxter home, the
tree-bordered swale that marked the
extreme northern end of the slough.
Whispers swelled into hoarse, guttural
mutterings as the mob, headed by its
set-faced, scowling leaders, left the
swale and started its deadly march.
Quickly the house was surrounded.
No avenue of escape was left unguard-
ed. A small, detached group ad-
vanced toward the porch, above the
roof of which were lights in the win-
dows of what everyone knew to be
young Oliver Baxter's bedroom.
A loud voice called out:
“Come out! We want to see you,
Oliver Baxter.”
Oliver raised the window and leaned
out. “Who is it? What have you got
down there? A mob? TIll see you
in h—1 before I'll come out!”
A deep growl rose from a hundred
throats, stilled almost instantly as the
clear voice of the leader rang out
again.
“We will give you one minute to
come out.”
Oliver glanced over his shoulder.
Mrs. Grimes had come to his bedroom
door.
“Telephone for the police, Serepta,”
he cried out sharply. “No! Wait!
You mustn’t be here if that mob breaks
in and—"
He did mot finish the sentence.
There was a rush of footsteps in the
hall, then Mrs. Grimes was flung
aside and into the room leaped three.
four, half a dozen men.
Oliver knocked the first man sprawl-
ing, but the others were upon him
like an avalanche, . . . As they led
him, now unresisting, from the room
his wild, beaten gaze fell upon the
huddled form of Serepta Grimes lying
inert in the hall.
“For God's sake, be decent enough
to look after her,” he panted.
They dragged him down the stairs.
Out of the house and down into the
yard they hurried him. There they
paused long enough to tle his hands
gecurely behind his back, An awed
silence had fallen upon the crowd—
the shouts ceased, curses died on
men’s lips. They had him! Tragedy
was at hand.
“In Heaven's name, men—what are
you going to do with me?” Oliver cried
out in a strange, piercing volce.
“Shut up!”
Something fell upon his Hany
geraped down over his face. He stifl
a scream. He felt the slack noose
tighten about his bare throat.
He was shoved forward, protesting
siygilly, impatiently.
They had picked the spot—the place
where father and son parted on that
distant night. And the tree—the
sturdy old oak whose limbs overhung
the road. They had picked the limb.
There was no delay. . The
stout rope was thrown over the limb,
the neose was drawn close about his
neck by cold, nervous fingers. . . .
A prayer was strangled on his writh-
ing lips. Strong hands hauled at the
rope. He swung in the air. . . .
A great white flare of light burst
upon the grewsome spectacle—the réar
of a charging monster—the din of
shrieking klaxons—and then the pierc-
ing scream of a woman.
The dense mob in the road broke,
fighting frantically to get out of the
path ex Lansing’s car. Soiao were
struck and hurled screaming aside—
and on came the car, forging its way
slowly but relentlessly through the
struggling mass.
Up to the swaying, wriggling form
shot the car, a force irresistible, guid-
ed by a man who thought not of the
human beings he might crush to death
tn his desire to reach the one he
sought to save.
“Let go of that rope!” yelled this
man.
Behind him came another car. Panic
seized the mob. The compact mass
broke and scattered.
A writhing, tortured figure lay in the
mfldle of the road, a loose rope swing-
ing free from the limb. The bewil-
dered, startled men who had held fit
in their hands fell back—uncertain,
bewildered.
Lansing, unafraid, sprang from the
car and rushed to the prostrate form.
In a second he was tugging at the
noose, cursing frightfully.
Now a woman flung herself down
beside the man with the rope around
his neck, sobbing, moaning, her arms
straining to lift his shoulders from
the ground.
A baffled roar went up from the
mob. Men surged forward and hands
were laid upon the rope—too late.
The noose was off—and Saramy Parr,
standing over the doctor and the dis-
tracted girl, had a revolver In his
hand.
“Come on!” he yelled. “Come on,
you dirty cowards! You swine! You
He Yelled. “Come on,
“Come on!”
You Dirty Cowards!”
d—d Huns!
sized pull!”
From all sides boomed the shouts
and curses of a quickly revived pur-
pose.
“Rush ‘em!”
“Kill the —”
“Beat their heads off!”
“Get him! Get him!”
Suddenly a strange voice rose above
the clamor. Rich, full, vibrant, it fell
upon puzzled ears, and once again
there was pause. .
All eyes were upon the owner of this
wondrous clarion voice. A startling
figure she was, standing erect upon the
front seat of Lansing’s car.
“Men of Rumley! Hold! Hold, I
command you! Is there one among
you who has not heard of the gypsy’s
prophecy of thirty years ago? Let
him speak who will, and let him speak
for all.”
A score of voices answered.
“Aye!” she went on. “You all have
Aeard it. I ask one of you—any one
of you—to stand forth and tell the
rest of this craven mob what the
gypsy fortune teller said on that wild
and stormy night.”
“ghe said the baby son of Oliver
Baxter would be hung for murder be-
fore he was thirty years old,” bawled
someone.
“And what else did she say?” rang
out the voice of Josephine Judge.
“Oh, a lot of things that don’t mat-
ter now,” yelled a man back In the
crowd. “Get busy, boys. We can’t—"
“Stop! Listen to me, varlets! You
believe she spoke the truth when she
uttered that prophecy? Answer!”
“Yes!” came from a hundred throats.
“Then you must know that this boy
was adjudged innocent of this crime
on the day he was born,” fell slowly,
distinctly from the lips of Josephine.
“I will repeat the words of the gypsy
woman. She said: ‘He will not com-
mit a murder. He will be hanged for
a crime he did not commit’ Speak!
Come on and get a man-
Are not those the words of the
gipsy
EARL TSI hE CTR
Absolute silence ensued. It was as
if the crowd had turned to stone.
“And so,” she cried, leveling her
finger at the men in the front rank,
“you have done your part toward mak-
ing the prophecy come true. You have
hung Oliver October Baxter in spite
of the fact that you were told thirty
years ago that he would be innocent.”
The mob stood rooted to the ground.
A sudden shout went up from those
in the front rank—a shout of relief.
Oliver October was struggling to his
feet, assisted by Jane and Lansing.
His arms, released from their bonds,
were thrown across their shoulders, !
» | wrinkled, his eyes fixed on one of his
his chin was high, he was coughing ! bony hands.
violently.
“Don’t try to speak yet, Baxter,”
cautioned Lansing. “Plenty of time.
You're al! right. You'll be yourself in
a few minutes. Thank God, we got
here when we did.”
They got him into the forward car,
where he huddled down between Jane
and her mother. They heard him whis-
per hoarsely, jerkily:
“Never mind about me—I'm—an
right. They won't try—it again. Look
after Aunt—Serepta first. She's hurt.
They left her—Ilying up—"
“Don’t worry, old top,” cried Summy
eagerly. “I'll go back and look out for
her. You go along with Doc. He'll
fix you up. All you need is a good
stiff —"
“Clear the road!” roared a score of
voices as Lansing’s car moved slowly
forward, and off the sides, down the
slope and up the bank, slunk the
obedient lynchers. The once blood-
thirsty horde bore off swiftly, appre-
hensively, but still dubiously through
the night which now seemed to mock
them with its silence.
An hour later Sammy Parr ex-
pressed himself somewhat irrelevantly
in the parsonage sitting-room.
“Say, Miss Judge, you were great.
I never heard anything like that
speech of yours. And your voice—
why, it gave me the queerest kind of
shivers.”
Josephine was pacing the floor, her
fine brow knitted in thought. She was
muttering to herself. Oliver, lying
on a eouch, smiled up into Jane's
lovely eyes. Then he sat up.
“Sammy,” he cried out thickly but
with the ring of enthusiasm in his
voice, “do me a favor, will you?”
“Sure,” said Sammy, springing te
his feet.
“Stand up with me.
be married.”
“Great!” cried Sammy. “I'll not
only stand up with you, old boy, but
I'H let you lean on me.”
“Now?” gasped Serepta Grimes, ir
great agitation.
“Yes—now !” cried Jane softly, and
for the first time that night the color
came back to her cheeks.
CHAPTER XIII 0g
Sars =
Mr. Gooch Sees Things af
Night.
Horace Gooch was going to bed. He
had had a hard day, and it was nine
o'clock. He had a book, a well-worn
copy of “David Harum,” but he did
not begin reading at once. He was
thinking of the many dark and lonely
nights old Oliver Baxter had spent in
Death Swamp. It gave him a creepy
feeling. He tucked the covers a little
more tightly under his chin—but still
the creepy feeling persisted.
“Hey, Horace!”
Someone was knocking at the fron.
door—and the voice! There was only
one voice in the world like that.
Mr. Gooch went to the window. He
Aesitated a moment, then boldly drew
the curtain apart.
“Hello, Horace,” came wafting up
¢0 Mr. Gooch. “That you? Say, open
up and let me in.”
Mr. Gooch grasped the window
frame for support.
“Good G—d!” he gulped, but in a
voice so strange and hollow that he
did not recognize it as his own.
The figure drew nearer the house.
sm Ollie Baxter. For goodness’
sake, Horace, don't tell me you've for-
gotten your only brother-in-law. I—"
“Go away! You're dead!”
“You come down here and let me
in,” cried the other. “I'll derned soon
show you I'm not dead.”
Mr. Gooch was not convinced. ‘It
was Oliver Baxter and he was very
much alive.
“Well, what do you want?”
“J want to come in and spend the
night with you, that’s what I want.”
Presently the two were seated in
Gooch’'s warm kitchen.
“Now,” demanded Mr. Gooch, “where
have you been all this time?”
Mr. Baxter stretched out his wrin-
kled legs, and filled his pipe and lit
it, all the while keeping his keen little
eyes on his brother-in-law.
“Well, sir,” he began presently; “l
hunted this country over before I
found her. She remembered every-
thing. It took me nearly two weeks
to get her to admit that she lied, and
I guess she wouldn't have done it if
I hadn't offered her a hundred dollars
to tell the truth.”
“Are you talking about the gypsy
who told his fortune?’ inquired Mr.
Gooch, comprehending suddenly.
“Yes, Queen Marguerite. I finally
got her to confess that everything she
sald was false, Oliver ain't going to
be hung any more than you or I. All
spite work, she says. Got mad at all
of us.”
“So that's what you've been up to,
you blamed old idiot,” exclaimed
Gooch, “Letting us all think you were
dead! That reminds me—I was just
wondering whose body it is, since it
can't possibly be yours. The one they
found in the swamp yesterday, I
mean.” ;
Mr. Baxter inquired with sudden in-
terest: “In the swamp, eh? Out in
I'm going te
{ Tom Sharp’s body.
one of the pools? Why, it must be
Tom Sharp was
killed with an ax right out there on
the edge of the swamp thirty years
ago. He was killed by a gypsy— Say,
Horace, if they think that body is
mine, who is supposed to have killed
me?”
Mr. Gooch experienced a strange
and unusupected softening of the
heart.
“A man that used to work around
your place,” said he, after a moment's
hesitation.
Silence fell between them, Mr. Bax
ter was thinking profoundly, his brow
“Just so it wasn’t—Oliver,” he sald
at last, swallowing hard. He had
removed the gaudy muffler, His
Adam’s evple rose and fell twice con-
vulsively. “I'd hate to have people
think he did it.”
“Don’t worry about that,” said Mr.
Gooch brusquely. “Get along to bed
now.”
[THE END.}
Spaniard Gets Credit
for the Frankfurter
What 1% a hot dog? Well, it is most-
ly bull; bull meat mixed with pork,
highly spiced, steam cooked and
smoked over hickory smoke. It orig-
inated in ‘Bologna, Spain, so long ago
that only the main facts may be re-
called. They used to slaughter an
enormous number of bulls in the arenas
of Spain in days when bullfighting was
more popular and more brutal than it
is today.
It looked like a great economic crime
to see so much prize beef wasted. But
nobody wanted bull beef just so; bulls
are tough and not so delicious as cows
and steers are. A butcher in Bologna
had an idea and bought bulls that
were killed in the bull ring and made
the meat into a sausage, mixed with
pork and highly seasoned. Bologna
sausage appealed to the popular taste.
Germans borrowed the formula, put
the same sausage mixture into small
casings and Bologna became “Frank-
furter” in Frankfort and “Weenie” in
Vienna. Coney island gave it the name
of hot dog and popularized it.
One stand in Coney island that has
been selling hot dogs for half a cen-
tury is reputed to have a sale of five to
ten tons of Frankfurters a day in the
busy season. Somebody has to sell
a lot of ’em to get rid of that 400,
000,000 pounds a year.—Colllers’ Mags:
zine.
Confidence in Self
Man’s Biggest Asset
Life is an island, entirely surrounded
by risks, losses, troubles, hardships and
misadventures of all sorts,
Most men go to pieces when they
have had a few beatings. They wilt.
They fade away. They crawl into a
safe little corner and hide, while the
great rough tide of glorious life rushes
past them.
The fact is that defeat is the normal
thing in this haphazard little world,
and victory comes but seldam. Every
victory, usually, is the result of a long
series of defeats. :
A man must have faith in himself
and in what he is trying to do. He
must say: “I can.” He must back
himself to win. He must bet on him-
self. He must have faith in the peo-
ple he works with. He must believe
in his team. He must see the better
side of his co-workers and not think
that his own point of view is the only
right one.
He must have faith in those great
principles that make us superior to the
animals of the forest—to Truth, Hon-
esty, Sympathy, Justice, Progress.—
Forbes Magazine.
Cause Enough
A camel has its limit of endurance
as the old saw concerning the ultimate
straw and the broken back will testify.
Mrs. North also had her limit, which
was finally reached when an argument,
about which little could be understood,
continued with unabated fury for two
hours in the Smith household next
door.
Calling to Willie Smith, who was
playing in the back yard, Mrs. North
asked the seven-year-old shining light
of the warring Smiths: t
“what is all the row about, Willie?”
“Oh, mamma put her cushion on
daddy's chair and he sat down on in,”
replied the small lad.
“Why, that is no cause for such an
argument, is it?”
«gure it is! It was mamma's pin
cushion!”
Your Loss—My Gain
It was one of the first days of school.
The children, fresh from their long va-
cation, were listening attentively to a
lesson in arithmetic.
“Now,” said the teacher, holding up
a gallon measure, “if this gallon meas-
ure of cider costs $1, what would you
have to pay for a quart?”
“Fifty cents,” said Mary.
“Would you take that?’ sald the
teacher, as she looked at keen-eyed
little Isadore.
“Sure,” sald Isadore. Then very
wisely added: “If she'd give it to
me.”
Cooked Food All Wrong?
Richet, famous French scientist, is
urging Parisians to eat raw meat and
be strong; not only raw meat but un-
cooked vegetables, and so many
Frenchmen are trying it that restau-
rants have many requests for “beef-
steak, raw.” All the physical ills to
which modern man is heir are the re-
sult of cooked food, says Richet. Did
the professor ever try to eat a raw
potato?—Capper's Weekly.
Points Out Neccessity
for Health Standard
Health is a feeling of well-being in
which one is filled with enthusiasm
and viges for both work and play,
says Lydia Clark, director of physical
education for women at Ohio State
university, writing in the Hygeia,
popular magazine of health published
by the American Medical association.
Modern life is making such extreme
demands on the nervous energy of
business and professional women, Miss
Clark points out, that it is imperative
to control all the forces pertaining to
health. Health is an asset of whieh
few of us take cognizance until nature
has given us many warnings to take
stock of our health budget. But even
with repeated warnings, there are
many who fail to recognize the stop
signal because of the lack of knowl-
edge of the degree and quality of
health they may easily possess.
Miss Clark asped many groups of
people if they considered themselves
well, or in good health. The majority
of persons in such groups usually re-
plied in the affirmative. Further in-
quiries have proved that few of those
questioned were free from colds, head-
aches or minor ailments.
There is a popular notion that
health is a negative quality, and that
one is in good health unless he is
actually confined to bed, or under the
care of a physician. Examination and
questioning has been a useful means
of establishing a truer idea of the
meaning and need of a positive health
standard, the maintenance of which
must make for greater happiness and
a richer life,
Order of Precedence
it’s a far cry, as the poets and news
sapers say, from Einstein's theory of
relativity to baseball. But the rela-
dvity of importance conveyed by the
national pastime, as it is not called
yy the poets and as it is by the news
»apers, was illustrated by an incident
that happened in connection with the
world series at Washington in 1924.
Just as a game was about to start, ap
wutomobile drew up before the crowd:
»d parking place in front of the
trounds. “Can’t get in there, move
ilong,” the policeman ordered. “Bul
fm Mrs. Waiter Johnson,” the lady
mn the car protested. “Oh,” sald the
policeman deferentially. He turned te
the nearest of the row of cars, and
said brusquely, “Pull out of there.”
But that car also held a lady, wha
spoke up, saying, “This is General Per
shing’s car. I'm one of the general's
party.” “Pull out,” the policeman or
jered sternly. ‘Didn't you hear whe
this lady is? She’s Mrs. Walter John:
son. Pull out now and be quick about
it
“Hollywood” for Malta
fo meet the keen desire on the pan
of the British to obtain some new
place where films may be made to com
pete with American films. a suggestiox
has been made that studios be erected
on the island of Malta in the Mediter
ranean. The journey from London t¢
Malta requires only three days and
there are vast tracts on the island
awaiting development. It is pointed
out that Hollywood can only imitate
that “happy hunting ground for the
man behind the camera—the eterna
East” There is sunlight the yeal
round at Malta, and within a short ra
dius not only the East itself but al
the well-known backgrounds of Eu
rope. Film-making In England hat
been declared hopeless except for the
limited possibilities of the studio.
Walking on Springs
Leaping through the air like a
kangaroo is the exciting sensatiol
offered to children by the recent in
vention of shoes with springs.
These novel exercising toys an
strapped to the feet in the same man
ner as roller skates, and the weare)
can walk, run, jump, or dance on them
The steel springs, while of unusuai
strength, are extremely elastic. The
effect produced is said to be like walk: |
ing on air.
ch shoe has two spiral springs
says a writer in Popular Science, and
the lower end of each is fastened to 8
sole that prevents the springs from In:
juring carpets or polished floors. With
a little practice, it is said, a child can
make enormous leaps.
Pigeons His Pets
Peanuts for pigeons in Grant park,
Qhicago, cost a pigeon-lover $150 a
year. Four or five times daily this
gentleman, who {is treasurer of the
Orchestra Hall association, leaves a
sky-scraper overlooking the park,
crosses the avenue with bulging pock-
ets of peanuts to ration the birds, many
of them of four year# acquaintance.
His appearance causes a winged of-
tensive. The benefactor carries a knife
with a ‘small, sharp blade, which, as
the birds feed, he uses in removing
strings entangling their feet and to
perform any small bits of necessary
surgery. Wherever he travels he feeds
pigeons in the parks. He is never
feared, whether friend or stranger.
Vessel’s Varied Career
The Roosevelt, the famous ship upon
which Admiral Peary went to the Arc-
tic in search of the North pole, has
bad a varied career. She was built in
a Maine shipyard. Later she was
brought to Puget sound and was con-
verted into a sea-going tug. After this
the Roosevelt saw considerable service
with the fishing fleets of the Pacific,
and now she is taking the place of the
electric generating station on Vashon
{sland in Puget sound which was re-
cently destroyed by lightning, acting
as a floating power house until a new
one upon land can be built.
FARM NOTES.
—Have you put up any houses for
the birds? Rustic ones are practical
and ornamental. Put thvm up before
spring comes.
—Do not forget the State Farm
Products Show at Harrisburg, Jan-
uary 18 to 22. It is the show window
of Pennsylvania argriculture. Each
day is a red letter one for the farm
family. The exhibits will teach in-
spiring lessons.
—Large trees may be transplanted
to the home grounds now. Move with
a frozen ball of earth attached. A
block and tackle and rollers or a
stoneboat will be necessary in mov-
ing the larger trees. Do not attempt
to move trees more than six inches
in diameter.
—Plan your garden for this year.
Use as a basis the amounts of vege-
tables needed by your family for a
healthful diet. Plan for the greatest
quantity of the vegetables your family
likes. Make the location and size of
plot fit the garden you want, whenever
possible, rather than plan the garden
to fit a space that may be too cramp-
ed or inconveniently located.
—Alfalfa is a valuable dairy feed.
Many farmers who have alfalfa and
their own corn and oats are only pay-
ing about $35 a ton for grain mix-
tures this winter. Alfalfa not only
makes it possible to have cheap grain
mixture but helps cows give more
milk than any other roughage will.
If alfalfa is not already grown on the
farm, get in touch with the county
agent and have your soil tested for
lime requirements; also obtain sources
of good seed and inoculation.
Weather it will pay better to have
lambs come early or late will depend
on how you are fixed to take care of
them. If you have a good shed for
them and will have time to give in-
dividual attention to the ewes and
lambs at lambing time, you will find
the month of March one of the best
months in which to have the ewes
!lamb., The lambs produced in March
can be put on an earlier fall market
as a rule before the prices begin to
drop very much.
—That farmers would profit using
larger quantities of fish meal for hog
feeding, is the opinion of W. L. Rob-
is on, in charge of swine investiga-
tions at the Ohio experiment station.
When carried in dry lot from 67 toe
238 pounds in weight and when tank-
age and fish meal were valued at the
same price a ton, pigs receiving corn
and fish meal made cheaper and more
rapid gains than those receiving corn
‘and tankage. The cost of feed for
, each 100 pounds of gain for the pigs
getting fish meal was $5.92, age-fed
| pigs. With few exceptions fish meul
has proved to be worth more for feed-
"ing purposes than an equal weight of
tankage. A summary of experiments
| at different stations shows a saving of
' 63 cents in the cost of feed for each
1100 pounds of gain in favor of fish
meal.
Fish meal also compared favorably
with skimmed milk for feeding in con-
nection with corn. If middlings, lin-
seed meal, or soy beans are fed with
corn, or corn and other grains, the
benefit from feeding fish meal will be
even greater than when it is substi-
i tuted for dairy by-products or tank-
age.
| —A small flock of sheep upon every
farm would not be a bad mark to set,
providing, of course, that the owner
of the farm liked sheep. A small
flock of sheep is valuable in.destroy-
ing weeds, cleaning the fields and
fence corners. Sheep will eat 90 per
cent. of all the plants which are re-
garded as weeds, while cattle and
horsas will only eat about 50 per cent.
| They consume material that cannot be
readily utilized by the other farm an-
imals, and convert this into wool and
mutton. The grain left in the stub-
ble is not lost to a flock of sheep and
| they will graze volunteer growth and
aftermath on fields where the growth
is too scanty for other live stock.
The animal investigation section of
the Colorado Agricultural college in
co-operation with the United States
government of Akron, Colo., were
able to maintain sheep at the rate of
100 ewes upon 30 to 40 acres of sod.
These ewes lived upon the weeds and
by-products of the cropping system.
Many farms have land which is not
easily put under cultivation. This
waste land can be used for profitable
returns by a small flock of sheep.
There is an opportunity to increase
the farm income by a small flock of
sheep.—B. W. Fairbanks, Extension
Service, Colorado Agricultural Col-
ege.
—Each year a number of boys and
girls “pasture feed” the calves which
they have entered in the baby beef
club project. They allow their calves
to run with the herd during the day
and bring them in at night for their
grain ration.
I have never found a single case
where this plan proved satisfactory,
says A. A. Dowell, live-stock special-
ist of the agricultural extension serv-
ice, University of Minnesota. The
calves grow, and, perhaps make fair
gains, but do not put on the finish re-
quired in the show ring.
There are goed reasons why this
plan should be avoided. The calves
suffer from the heat and flies. They
spend too much time running around
and too little time resting. To make
good gains, they must be well fed,
comfortable, and get just enough ex-
ercise to keep in good health and
vigor.
The best plan is to keep the calves
in during the day and turn them out
Lin the lot at night for exercise. Give
them the freedom of a roomy, well-
bedded box stall. Never keep them
tied up day after day. The box stall
should have ample window space. By
removing the windows, and by cover-
ing the openings with gunny sack,
much needed fresh air is obtained
and flies are kept out as well as the
heat from the sun. The box stall
should be cleaned and fresh bedding
should be added each day. More Yhan
one calf may be kept in the same box
the same age as possible.
stall, but the animals should be near