6 A CANOE SONG. In the moonlight on the river, cool be neath the summer dew We grasp our bird's-eye paddles and swing out the old canoe; down the trickling pathway in a silver wake of light. Arc left our cares behind us as we pass into the night. Night of shadows, shimmering moon, Lighting all as bright as noon; Hear the murmur of the water. And the wild cry of the loon. Hear the shrill scream of the night hawks as they sweep the fragrant air, Heavy with the scent of cedars, hem looks, maple, spruce and rtr. Oh! your heart Is light within you as we swiftly glide along, And with her voice to thrill you we awake the woods with song. Night of shadows, shimmering moon, •lighting all as bright as noon; Hear the murmur of the water, And the wild cry of the loon. —Lloyd Roberts, in Canadian Magazine. I A Daughter of the Sioux By GEN. CHARLES KING. if Copyright, 1908, by The Ilubart Company. CHAPTEK Vll.—Conti sv k n. There in a dozen places were signs old Indian trailers read as they would read an open book. Places where, pivoting on tlie heel, a heavy foot had crushed right and left into the yield ing soil <-f the roadway, making con centric, circular grooves and ridges of sandy earth, where, earlier in he morning, Dan's and Harney's dainty hoof-prints were the only new im pressions. For nearly ;>0 yards had this obliterating process been carried on, and in a dozen spots, until the road dipped over the rounding edge, and, hard and firm now, went winding down to the flats. Here Webb, with Dade and llay, returned, while Illake meandered on, musing over what he had been told. "It's a government heel, not a cowboy's," had Hay said, hopefully, of the print of that pivot ing lump of leather. "That gives no clew to the wearer," answered Illake. "Our men often sell their new boots, or give their old ones, to these hangers-on about the post. So far as I'm concerned, the care with which the print has been erased is proof to me that the major saw just what he said. Somebody about Hay's place was mighty anx ious to cover his tracks." But a dozen "somebodies" besides the stablemen hung there at all hours of the day, infesting the broad ve randa. the barroom and stores, striv ing to barter the skin of coyote, skunk or beaver, or, when they had nothing to sell, pleading for an un earned drink. Half a dozen of fhese furtive, beetle-browed, swarthy sons of ihe prairie lounged there now, as the elder officers and the trader re turned, while Blake went on his way exploring. With downcast eyes he followed the road to and across a sandy watercourse in the low ground, and there, in two or three places found the fresh imprint of that same bar shoe, just as described by Webb. Then with long, swift strides he came stalking up the hill again, pass ing the watchful eyes about the cor ral without a stop, and only cheek ing speed as he neared the home stead of the Hay's, where, once again, ho became engrossed in studying the road and the hard pathways at the side. Something that he saw, or fan cied that he saw, perhaps a dozen yards from the trader's gate, induced him to stop, scrutinize, turn, and, with searching eyes, to cross diag onally the road in the direction of the stables, then again to retrace his steps and return to the eastward side. .lust as he concluded his search, and once more went briskly on his way, a blithe voice bailed him (from an upper window, and the ra diant face and gleaming white teeth of Nanette Flower appeared between the opening Ininds. One might have said he expected both the sight and question: "Lost anything, Capt. Blake?" "Nothing but—a little time, Miss Flower," was the prompt reply as, without a pause, the tall captain, raising his forage cap, pushed swift ly on. "But I've found something," muttered he to himself, between his set teeth, and within five minutes more was again closeted with the post commander. "You saw it?" asked Webb. "Yes. Three or four places—down in the arroyo. More than that— Where's Hay?" he broke off sudden ly, for voices were sounding in the adjoining room. "Here, with Dade and the doctor." "Then—" But Blake got no fur ther. Breathless and eager, little Sandy Bay ctyne bounding through the hallway into the presence of the officers. He could hardly gasp his news: "Major, you told me to keep watch and let you know. There's a courier coming—hard! Mother saw him— too, through the—spyglass. She says they—see him, too at Stabber's— and she's afraid " "Bight!" cried Webb. "Quick, Blake; rush out half a dozen men to meet him. Those devils may indeed cut hint off. Thank you, my little man," be added, bending down and patting the dark curly head, as Blake went bounding away. "Thank you, 'Sandy. I'll come at once to the bluff. We'll save liiui. Never you fear." In less than no time, one might say, all Fort Frayne seemed hurrying to the northward bin IT. The sight of tall ("apt. Blake bounding like a grey hound toward his troop barracks, and shouting for his first sergeant—of Maj. U'ebb almost rsuiHii'i. aero.--.-, the parade toward the flagstaff—of San dy rushing back to his post at the tel escope of the adjutant and officer of the day tearing away toward the j stables, where many of the men J were now at work, were signs that told unerringly of something stir-j ring, probably across the Platte. | As luck would have it, in anticipation of orders to move, the troop horses had not been set out to graze, and were still in the sunshiny corrals, and long before the news was fully voiced through officers' row, Blake and six of his men were in saddle uud darting away for the ford, carbines advanced the instant they struck the opposite bank. From the bluff Webb had shouted his instructions. "We could see him a moment ago," for half a dozen field glasses were already brought to bear, "six miles out—far east of the road. Feel well out to your left to head off any of Stabber's people. Three of them have been seen galloping out already." "Aye, aye, sir." came the answer ing shout, as Blake whirled and tore away after his men. There had been a time in his distant past when the navy, not the army, was his ambition, and he still retained some of the ways of the sea. Just as Webb feared, some few of Stabber's young war riors had been left behind, and their eagle-eyed lookout harl sighted the far distant courier almost as soon as Sandy's famous telescope. Now they were hastening to head him off. But he seemed to have totally van- Ishei]. Level as appeared the north w.tlft prairie from the commanding height on which stood the throng of eug** watchers, it was in reality * low, filing surface like some lazily heaving sea that had become sudden ly solidified. Long, broad, shallow dips or basins lay between broad, wide, far-extendingj yet slight up heavals. Through the shallows turned and twisted dozens of dry nrroyos, all gradually trending toward the Platte —the drainage system of the fron tier. Five miles out began the ascent to the taller divides and ridges that gradually, and with many an inter vening dip, rose to th* watershed between the Platte and ihe score of tiny tributaries that united to form the South Cheyenne. It was over Moccasin, or Ten Mile, Bidge, as it was often called, and close to the now abandoned stage road, Bay's daring little command had disap peared from view toward eight o'clock. It was at least two, possi bly three, miles east of the stage road that the solitary courier had first been sighted, and when later seen by the major and certain oth ers of the swift gathering spectators, he was heading for Frayne, though still far east of the highroad. And now Mrs. Bay, on ihe north piazza, with Webb by her side and Nannie Bluke, Mrs. Dade and Ksther in close attendance, was briefly tell big the major what she had seen up stream. One glance through Sandy's glass had told her the little fellow had not watched in vain. Then with the ready binocular, she had turned to the Indian encampment up the Platte, and almost instantly saw signs of commotion—squaws and children running about, ponies run ning away and Indian boys pursuing. Then, one after another, three In dians—warriors, presumably had lashed away northward and she had sent Sandy on the run to tell the major, even while keeping watch on this threatening three until they shot i behind a long, low ridge that stretched southward from the foot- ; hills. Beyond doubt they were off in hopes of bagging that solitary horseman, speeding with warning of some kind for the shelter of Fort Frayne. By this time there must have been nearly two hundred men, women and children lining the crest of the bluff, and speaking in low, tense voices when they spoke at all, and straining their eyes for the next sight of the coming courier or the swift dash of the intercepting Sioux. Well out now, and riding at the gallop, lilake and his half dozen, widely separating so as to cover much of the ground, were still in view, and Dade and his ; officers breathed more freely. "See what a distance those beggars of Stabber's will have to ride," said the veteran captain to the little group about him. "They dare not cross the \ ridge short of three miles out. It's my belief they'll see Blake and never cross at all." Then up rose a sudden shout. "There he is!" "There he comes!" "See!" "See!" and 50 hands pointed eagerly northeastward where a little black dot had suddenly popped into J view out of some friendly, winding watercourse, four miles still away, at least count, and far to the right and front of Blake's easternmost trooper, livery glass was instantly brought to bear upon the swiftly coming ri- I der, Sandy's shrill young voice ring- ! ing out from the upper window. "It isn't one of papa's men. His horse is j a gray!" Who then could it be? and what could it mean, this coming of a strange courier from a direction so far to the east of the traveled road? Another moment and up rose another shout. "Look!"— " There they are!' "Sioux for certain!" And from be hind a little knob or knoll on the meridian ridge three other black dots had swept into view and were shoot ing eastward down the gradual slope Another moment and they were swal lowed ii]) behind still another low divide, but ill that moment they had seen and been seen by the western most of Blake's men, and now, on< after another, as the signals swept from the left, the seven swerved ; Their line of direction had been west j ol north. Now, riding like mad, the\ veered to the northeast, and a gram lace was on between the hidden three and the would-be rescuers—all head ing for the low-rolling prairie wherv the lone courier next be ex CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, JULY 30, 1903 pected to come into view—friends ant! foes alike, unconscious of the fad that, following one of those crooked nrroyos with its stiff and precipitous banks, he had been turned from his true course full three-quarters of u mile, and now, with a longer run, bill a clear field ahead, was steering straight for Frayne. CIIAITEB VIII. But Frayne was far from done with excitement for the day. For a while all eyes seemed centered 011 the chase, now scattered miles toward the east and, saw for two of the number left behind, blown, spent and hopelessly out of the race, soon lost to view among the distant swales and ravines. Then everyone turned to welcome the coining harbinger, to congratulate him 011 his escape, to demand the reason for his daring essay, (iregg and his men were first to reach him, and while one of them was seen ill rough the leveled glass to dismount and give the courier his fresh horse, thereby showing that tlie gray was well-nigh exhausted, the whole par'y turned slowly toward the post. Thm one of their number suddenly darted fortli from the group and came spur ring at top speed straight for the ford. "That means news of importance," said Webb, at the instant. "And (iregg and all of his squad are com ing in—not following Blake. That means he and they are more needxd elsewhere. Come on, Mr. Boss. We'll go down and meet that fellow. Or derly, have my horse sent to the ford." So, followed the three or four younger oflicers —the married men being restrained, as a rule, by pro testing voices, close at hand—the commanding officer went slipping and sliding down a narrow, winding path way, 1 mere goat track, many of the soldiers following at a respectful distance, while all the rest of the gathered throng remained at the crest, eagerly, almost breathlessly, awaiting the result. They saw the trooper come speeding in across the liats from the northeast; saw as he reached the "bench" that lie was spurring hard; heard, even at the distance, the batter of hoofs upon the resounding sod; could almost hear the fierce panting of the racing steed; saw horse ami rider come plunging down the bank and into the stream, and shoving breast-deep through the foaming waters; then issue dripping, on tiie hither shore, where, turning loose his horse, the soldier leaped from saddle and saluted his com mander. " "Captain Gregg's compliments, .sir. it's Budge from the Dry Fork. Ser geant Kelly feared that Kennedy hadn't got through, for most of Lame Wolf's people pulled away from t lie Fork yesterday morning, coining this way, and the sergeant thought it was to unite with Slabber to surround any small command that might be sent ahead from here. Budge was or dered to make a wide sweep to the last, so as to get around them, and that's what took him so long. He left not two-hours after Kennedy." In spite of his years of frontier service and training in self-control, Webb felt, and others saw, that his face was paling. Bay, with only 5(1 men at his back, was now out of sight —out of reach—of the post and prob ably face to face with, if not airead,- surrounded by, the combined forces of the Sioux. Not a second did he hesitate. Among the swarm that had followed him was a young trumpeter of "K" troop, reckless of the fact that, lie should be at barracks, packing his kit. As luck would have it, -there at his back hung the brazen clarion, held by ifs yellow braid and cord. "Boots and saddles, Kerry, quick!" ordered the major, and as the ringing notes re-echoed from bluff and build ing wall and came laughing back from the distant crags at the south, the little throng at the bank and the crowd at the point of the bluff, had scattered like startled coveys—the men full run for the barracks and stables, never stopping to "reason why." Nearly half an hour later, gray haired Capt. Dade stood at the point of bluff near the flagstaff, Esther, pale and tearful, by his side, waving adieu and Godspeed to Webb, who had halted in saddle 011 reaching the opposite bank and was watching his little column through the ford—tlire? stanch troops, each about 00 strong, reinforced by about half a dozen of Bay's men left behind in the forward rush at dawn, but scorning disquali fication of any kind, now that danger menaced their beloved captain and their comrades of the sorrel troop. In all the regiment no man was loved by the rank and tile as was Billy Bay. The veterans trusted and swore by, the younger troopers looked up to and well-nigh worshipped him, and now, as the story that the Sioux had probably surrounded the sorrel troop went like wildfire through the garri son, even the sick in the hospital begged to be allowed togo, and one poor lad, frantic through fever and enforced confinement, broke from the hold of the half-hearted attendant; tore over to "K" troop barracks, de manding his "kit" of Sergeant Sclirei her, aud, finding the quarters desert ed, the men all gone to stables, dared to burst into that magnate's own room in search of his arms and clothing, and thereby roused a heavi ly sleeping soldier, who damned him savagely, until, through wild raving, hi- gathered that some grave danger menaced Capt. Kay. Even his befud dled senses could fathom that! And while the guards and nurses bore the patient, shrieking and struggling, back to the hospital, Kennedy soused his hot head in the cooling waters of their frontier lavatory and was off like a shot to the stables. It was long before he found bis horse, for the guard had taken Kil maine to "F" troop's stables, and Kent—'y had been housed v "K." "GET BACK; GET BACK!" HE BEGAN TO SHOUT—"THERE'S A MILLION INDIANS JUST OVER THE RIDGE." It was longer still before he could per suade the guard that he "had a right," as he put it, to ride after the major. Not until Capt. Dade had been con sulted would they let him go. Not, indeed, until in person Kennedy had pleaded his cause with that cool-head ed commander. Dade noted the flushed and swollen face, but rea soned that nothing would more speed ily shake the whisky from his system than a long gallop in that glorious air and sunshine. "Maj. Webb is fol lowing the trail of Capt. Ray," said he. "You follow the major's. You can't miss hitn, and there are uo In dians now to interpose. You should catch him by noon —then give him this." "This"was a copy of a late dis patch just- in from Laramie, saying that ihe revolt had reached the Sioux at the agencies aud reservations on the White Earth, and would demand the attention of every man at, the post. No reinforcement, therefore, could be looked for from that quarter until the general came. It.was no surprise to Dade. It could be none to Webb, for old Red Cloud had ever been an enemy, even when bribed and petted and fed and coddled in his vil lage 011 the Wakpa Schicha. His nephew led the bolt afield. No won der the olfi war chief backed him with abundant food, ammunition and eager warriors sent "from home." But it was still after 11 when Ken nedy drove ids still wearied horse through the Platte and, far to the north, saw the dun dust cloud that told where Webb's little column wn% trotting hard to the support of the sorrels. His head was aching and he missed the morning draught of sol dier coffee. He had eaten nothing since his cold lunch at the major's, and would have been wise had he gone to Mistress McGann and begged a cup of the fragrant Java with which she had stimulated her docile master ere lie rode forth, but the one idea uppermost in Kennedy's muddied brain was that the sorrels were Irapped by the Sioux and every trooper was needed to save them. At three in the morning lie felt equal to lighting the whole Sioux nation, with all its dozen tribes and dialects. At .'1:30 lie had been whipped to a stand by just one of their number, and, "Mother av Moses," one that spoke English as well, or as ill as any man in the —tli. Sore in soul and body was Kennedy, and sore and stiff was his gallant bay, Kilnmine, when these comrades of over three years' service shook the spray of the Platte from their legs and started doggedly northward on the trail. Northward they went for full three miles, Kilmaine sulky aud protesting. The dust cloud was only partially visible now, hidden by the ridge a few miles ahead, when, over that ridge, probably four miles away to the right front, Kennedy saw coming at speed a single rider, and reined to the northeast to meet him. lilake and his men had gone far in tiiat direction. Two of their num ber, with horses too slow for a chase after nimble ponies, had, as we have seen, drifted back, and joined, unpre pared though they were for the field, J the rear of Webb's column. But now came another, not aiming for Webb, but heading for Frayne. It meant news from the chase that might be important. It would take him but little from the direct line to the nortii, why not meet him and hear? Kennedy reined to the right, riding slowly now and seeking the higher level from which he could command the better view. At last they neared each other, the little Irish veteran, sore-headed ami in evil mood, and a big, wild eyed, scare-faced trooper new to the frontier, spurring homeward with j panic in every feature, but rejoicing I at sight of a comrade soldier. "(lit back; git back!" he began to shout, as soon as he got within hail ing distance. "There's a million In dians just over the ridge. They've got the captain " [To Be Continued.] Tlie New Walter (iirl. Customer (at dairy lunch counter) — What Is this? Girl —It's what you ordered, sir; a cup of half and half —half milk and half wa ter. —Chicago Tribune. I'nele Allen. "I know," said Uncle Allen Sparks, ; wincing as he felt another twinge, "they say 'better late than never,' but In the case of rheumatism, by George, that doesn't apply!" A Wide Difference. Kate —Is there much difference in their social position? Nell—Oh, yes. Her father gets a sal- ! ary and his father gets wages.—Somer vllle Journal. WIRE FENCE BUILDING. l)u rnhillt y Depend* Altogether I poo the \\ ay in \\ hieb the Anchor I'oatw Are Set. The amount of time annually con suined in the repair of wire fencei combined with the loss in crops anc in injured animals due to their being out of repair we are confident would foot up a pretty big total. A littl< more time expended, however, in th« first construction of the fence, so tha 1 it may be constructed substantiallj and according to correct principles will very materially reduce these losses One of the first and most important requisites of a good fence is to hav« the anchor posts so set that they wil. ; stay right where they are placed. Tin failure to properly set these is perhaps the most prolific source of poor fence? and the consequent losses therefrom There is much less strain on a fenc< that is kept tight and in proper shapi than on one that is not, because then is less effort on the part of the ani mals to get through than where they can see a more encouraging prospect (1 if A SUBSTANTIAL ANCHOR. of success in that direction. Such » condition of fence can be maintained only when the anchor posts are so set as to resist any reasonable amount ol strain that may be placed upon them The accompanying cut represents s very substantial anchor. The anchoi post should be large, and the lieaviei the better, although actual weight is of minor importance. It should b« of sufficient length to extend 4V& fee l into the ground, where a long stretel of a four or a 4V&-foot fence is to b< attached thereto, and have a two-inct block, the larger the better, spiked or the rear side at its foot and one or the front side just below the surfact of the ground, as shown in cut. If it is a corner post with two stretches of wire attached at right angles to each other there should be two sets of blocks spiked to the post to corre spond. The brace post should alsc have a two-inch piece spiked to its front side just below the surface ol the ground. A good heavy brace, tha* will not spring, should be placed against the brcye post and supported by a stone or block to keep it out ol the ground and prevent decay. The other end of the brace should be placed against the anchor post about midway between the ground and top of fence. It is quite common to see the brace placed against the top of the anchor post, but placed in this manner it acts as a lever to lift the anchor post out of the ground. A wire i? next passed round the brace pannel from foot of anchor to top of brace poat and twisted as shown in cut. Twelve feet is a very good length for the brace pannel; a longer one requires a heavier brace to secure a given strength and too short a pannel makes the brace too steep. The wires should be drawn up well, but not too tight, as this will injure the texture of the wire. This is espe cially true in the case of single strand wire. In cable wire the twist will yield to any overstrain. Staples should not be driven tight, as is often done, but left so the wire can have free movement from end to end. If the wire gets a little slack at any time it can then be tightened by hitching on to either end. If an animal" runs into such a fence with great force the wires will yield throughout their whole length like a spring, and as the body is thrown back they return to their former position, and may show but little change from their former con dition, while the same impact against a fence with staples driven tightly would be sustained by that immediate section of the fence. The wires, if not broken, would be stretched and in jured in texture and left hanging so that immediate repairs would be nec essary. Even with a mild impact that will do little injury to the wire it is drawn through the staples which are too tight to allow it to return and it hangs there loose and out of condition until repaired.—Prairie Farmer. IJp*t Time for Cnpoiiizliijr. The best time to caponize is when the cockerels are about three months old. It is not feasible to do it after a cockerel becomes mature, as the proportion of deaths, culls and slips is much greater than with the younger birds. Capons grow rapidly and mature early, as they ai j quiet and peaceable. Their flesh re mains soft and juicy like that of a young chicken, and as a rule, they bring con siderably more per pound than natural . I birds. They are most in demand from j February to June and are not commonly j marketed until from ten to fourteen j months of age. Capons make more j weight for the feed they eat than any I other fowls, as their only ambition is to eat and rest, two things which are fa vorable to the production of fat and growth.—Orange Judd Farmer. If farming isn't paying you—there Is a screw loose somewhere. Find out where and tighten it. Whatever you do—do it as well ! you know how. THE ROAD TO SUCCESS. ; I'he Knrmfr Ulio l» lu Lnvf wllli fl(a Wiirk Hnrely FalU In Any tlil»K lie Indertakea. A man passed through my stable the J other day, and looking at the cattle feed | ing there, he said, "I like to see a row of nice cattle. They look good to me." That is the true farmer spirit. You may putin your whole life farming and in the end have lost all, or nearly all, the happiness simply because you do not love your calling. To succeed one must have more than a pecuniary motive in view. He should be able to enter into sympathy with his cows, sheep and horses. He must see in them something more than dumb beasts, to be treated as shabbily as possible and finally turned away for a song. The man who can go through a series of years on a farm and not be a better man, kinder of heart and more sympa thetic to all the helpless creatures about him is a hard-hearted man. The sick nesses of his cows and sheep, the ail ments of his horses and other form ani mals, are all well calculated to awaken in him a kindly feeling which will lead him to do all in his power to alleviate their sufferings. Some men are so bru tal with their stock that they fail to de rive the profit they should from them. They are themselves made harsh And , cruel by their treatment of their entile. It is the same way with other farm work. To get the most out of it, one ought to love the every-day things which come in the line of his duty. I know men who do not even cut down a tree, especially a live one, without a sense of personal loss. These are the true farmers. Farming is morw than plowing, sowing and gathering into barns. It is living. The more we realize this, the better work we will do and the ; more successful we will be.—E. L. Vin cent, in Farm and Fireside. VERY EASY TO HANDLE. When n Single IIOK, Slifpp or ('alt linn to Hi- Hauled, Till* Crate I* Very I'aeful. It is often convenient to have a crate in which to haul a single hog, sheep or calf. It is not necessary to have it so large or so heavy but that it can be easily lifted into the wagon, or even taken in the light wagon where the ani mal to be hauled is not too large and heavy. The frame should be made of two by four, strengthened with rods and bolts. Four-inch slats are nailed horizontally on the inside of the sides and perpendicular on the end. Three slats dropped from above and retained in position by the mortised end will re tain the animal when inside. The crate is about three f-aet wide, A A A I ji Eh □ jaw zz j ta * a * T i 1 sir* LIGHT STOCK CRATE, four and one-half feet high, and five feet long. The three frames are mor tised at top and bottom and have a rod (A) at top, and at the bottom two two by fours are bolted at B. The floor is spiked down to these. The slats are nailed on from the inside to prevent crowding off. To give strength substi tute a two by four in place of slat (D), which should be bolted to the frames. The slats for retaining the animal aro made of two by fours. They are made to slip down between the rod and out side two by four brace across the top of the rear frame, the bottom of the slat (C) mortised to fit a square hole cut in the floor and the top held in position by a pin fitting into holes bored through the top of slat and braces of frame. The figure shows the crate complete.—Cin cinnati Commercial Tribune. RATIONS FOR HORSES. hlkchl of Experiment Station Repnrtk on the A»1 \ i.sn L»i Ii! Y OF CliuiY iikK or CuttiuK Fodder. ft is perhaps the general opinion that when horses have ample time for chew ing and digesting their feed there is no necessity for chaffing or cutting hay and straw. When the time for feediug is limited chaffing and cutting coarse fod der is regarded as advantageous. This is an item of special importance with hard-worked horses kept in the stable only at night. Furthermore, chaffed feed occupies less space for storage than uncut hay or straw, and can be readily handled. Shredding corn fodder is re garded as an economical practice, but i apparently few experiments on the comparative merits of shredded and whole corn fodder for horses have yet ; been reported. No marked variation j was observed in the weights of two lots j of horses fed whole and cut timothy or whole and cut alfalfa and clover hay mixed, in a test carried on at the Utah station. At the Maryland station, in studies of the digestibility of a number of whole and ground feeds, it was found that grinding corn shives—that is, i cornstalks from which the blades, j husks and pith are removed—until the ! material resembled coarse bran, did not destroy its value as a coarse fodder, i and that the finely-ground material ■ supplied the necessary bulk to the ra tion as well as the same material nu ground. It was further claimed that the finely-ground coarse fodder pos sessed an advantage over the unground ; material in that it could be mixed with grain to form a well-balanced ration and fed to horses on shipboard, or under j similar conditions, more readily than unground fodder and grain.—Cov- j ernment Bulletin. A good ration for farm horses is ten pounds of hay, eight pounds of corn, and seven pounds of bran yer day.
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