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| Prices
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rywhere.
. inspired oy a government
a scientific farmer
‘for prizes
ed to the Buys’ Corn club.
‘Sam works hard cleaning up and ferti-
lizing the wornout farm Miles Fagan rid-
feules scientific farming, but lets ‘his boy
join the corn club
While blowing out stumps Sam saves
Joe Watson's life. Sam plans his contest
acre of corp and other crops and the
stocking of his farm “with cattle.
He prunes and sprays the old trees of
the orchard, improving them greatly, and
his successful farm astonishes Miles
Fagan and other slow going neighbors
.S8am’s careful study of scientific agri
culture and ‘his up to date methods. ot
seed sl odt ig; are rewarded by splendid
erops.
CHAPTER Vi.
AM'S well tertlized, well cult
vated acre of Irish potatoes sur
prised the neighbors with the
amount it produced.’ Two hun:
dred bushels were what he harvested
from the patch, and, selling them at
60 cents per bushel, he had $120 to
show for the first crop. It was only
the 1st ‘of June, so he immediately pre-
pared the ‘land and planted the acre
again in June corn.
After that the work came thick and
fast The cane was ready to be cut
He moved it, let it cure’ god stacked
gwar two two tos of ge say in the barn
another crop
a but the
umpkin yams must be planted. .So
he prepared and bedded the ground.
and one cloudy day just before a rain
he pulled the potato slips from the bed
where he had grown them and planted
this acre also with a second crop.
The cotton then had to be plowed.
and when that was finished the four
acre cornfield, in which he was aiso
growing a flourishing crop of pump-
s, was calling for him.
"The peach and plum crops were very
ort this year, owing to a late frost,
t the Powell orchard never suffered
in this respect The old trees had a
per crop. Prices being good, after
rs. Powell had preserved what she
wanted, Sam sold $40 worth of plums
and $110 worth of peaches, making a
3 1 of $150 income from the fruit,
ot to mention the preservings for fam-
use.
y in the winter, before the fam-
moved, Sam had made arrange-
ts with a breeder of a fine strain
Plymouth Rock chickens to ten
gs of eggs. For these he was ty
pay $1.50 a sitting. Mrs. Powell
y owned a mixed breed flock of
ts but Sam’s oe with Which
gg hea
e * beartly with NJ hon
. The first of these sittings
were hatched while it was yet cold
and before summer came on, with its
excessive heat and insect pests, the
whole ten bad been brought off and
more than 100 thrifty young Plymouth
Rocks were running about the farm.
The ample range and shade and the
rye sown in the orchard made the in-
come from poultry almost clear profit.
Chickens require little feed when they
can get green stuff and insects. Be-
sides the Plymouth Rocks Mrs. Powell
raised six dozen common breed fryers,
which she sold at $3 per dozen, or $18.
From the thoroughbred flock, after se-
decting seventy pullets and five roost-
érs to keep, she sold the culls for $15.
roosters at $1 and-pullets at 50 cents.
The egg market was very low during
the summer months, but even at a few
cents a dozen $20 worth were sold this
year and the family had all they could
eonsume at home. Finally, in the fall,
the old flock of common chickens was
sold, bringing 25 cents each or $12.60
in all. Surplus milk and butter from
the two cows brought $50 for the year.
But this wasn’t all. The acre of
watermelons, cantaloupes and vegeta-
bles contributed its share. Sam’s wa-
termelons were a long white variety,
with black seed and blood red meat,
sweet as sugar. These melons always
brought something above the regular
market price. In all the young farmer
sold $40 worth of melons and vegeta-
bles.
The June corn made a fair crop. Sam
sold the roasting ears at one cent each.
These brought him $30. Then be cut
and cured the stalks for feed. The
ground being once more cleared, he
plowed, barrowed and planted it
turnips.
Sam found that a little farm of fif*
teen acres can keep two or three people
very busy, especially when the farm is
made to hump itself, growing one crop
right after another. Hardly a day
passed that he or his sister didn’t have
to drive to town to sell something.
Whenever it could be arranged Sam al-
ways let Florence go, for then he could
be hurrying the heavy work forward.
September came and Florence enter-
ed the high school. but Sam, badly as
be wanted to begin, found it impossi-
place th
2
pit]
ble to do so until after Christmas.
However. he began studying at night,
all the hard work he did he
and for
»d to keep pretty close up with
the fall ‘he
B8weet potatoes,
vines anad feedi
dug the acre of
ping off the
and 1
“punk, He <tored twenty-five
bushels 0 ope ux: ams! sold the
other 12° 1 ain ay Xi per hohe)
Sam "ow never foro waat the
govern: in: told him abont seed
When his : 10est aoe was at maturity
he went down rhe rows and tied
strings to the stalks that bore the most
and the finest ears.
In the same way, also, the young
farmer selected his cotton seed. Here
‘and there in the rows he found stalks
that were unusnally large and perfect
| in shape. These were generally in
some rich place where they had been
{ particularly favored. If they were
| heavily loaded with bolls and the bolls
were large and fow down on the sta
indicating that they wouid open early,
Sam ‘white strings on them
conspicuous. laces. :
It may seem that with all this work
Sam Powell had little or no time for
pleasure or recreation. Such was not
the case, however, though he some
Ses bad to work longer hours thap
he liked because he was not able to get
help.
But Sam had got in the habit of using
| his mind. He never imitated other peo
ple in doing a thing without stopping
to think why it was done or If there
was a better way. He soon found out
that it pays to keep oneself frésh and
vigorous. = By taking the proper ee
and breathing spells and working a
certain hours he found that he nl
do as much or more work in eight
hours as in twelve, After that be did
not commence work before daylight or
quit after dark, as he had been doing.
He saw also that it was a good ifea
to take a, half day or a day off now
and then.
One of the things that Sam enjoyed
a great deal was to ramble through the
woods and fields and study nature. He
was what is'called a nature lover—that
is,” he mever tired of studying trees
and flowers and birds and insects and
animals. It was a mighty hard matter
for him to go after the calves and get
back In time for breakfast. It was not
oiore than a quarter ‘of a mile to where
the ‘calves were usually found—in a
little meadow beyond the creek—but
the earlier Sam started in the morning
the later he would usually be in re
turning.
He would get up sometimes while it
was still dark and only the first red
streaks of dawn showing in the east.
He would get out in the fresh air and
throw out his arms and take deep
breaths and walk about the yard for
a few minutes; then he would be off
suddenly, whistling a lively tune and
scattering the dew from the grass and
plants with his feet.
He liked to sit down on the creek
bank in the dim light of morning and
watch the world Just waking up. A
slight poise from some big treetops told
him that crows were leaving their
roost A louder flapping meant buz-
zards. A splash in the creek announc-
ed that u tuilfrog was taking his morn
ing bath Now aud then a possum
would wad.di- by or a belated coon
returning 1m his fishing np the creek
would ston: to aye Sam maquisitively.
i QOrossing. the creek and getting pret.
‘close to the calves, ‘te ould
am again to’ wateh three or four
rabbits at their bg tomp In the
de ‘grass Farther on he might find
as i How er 13 shrib ‘And study it
ver s on tryl g to determine the
i e'of it. Sam and Florence were
cold, "both nature enthusiasts, and there
were few flowers or trees the names
of which they didn’t know.
. Finally, the young farmer would find
the calves and start them home. and
be might get there by sunrise if he
didn’t find something else to interest
him,
When he came in, fresh, bright eyed
and hungry from his walk and found
breakfast waiting, his mother would
ask:
“Why, what makes you so late get-
ting back, Sam?”
“Oh. I've been watching ol’ Brler
Rabbit and Br'er Possum.” he would
reply. He had read the stories of Un-
cl¢ Remias and always called animals
py the names the old darky gave them.
One Saturday morning Bill Googe
climbed over the fence and came to
where Sam was at work.
“Hello, Sam!” he greeted.
let's go fishin’ this evenin’.”
| “Are you up with your work?’ ask-
od Bam. .
“You bet. I’ve quit loafin’ round
when they’s work needin’ doin’. Every-
thing’s right up to now.”
“All right, then,” said Sam; “I'll bo
glad to go. I was just thinking
about it.”
“Well, I'll git the bait and be ‘long
‘bout 1 o'clock after you. Say, Sam,
you shore are raisin’ a powerful lot o
truck on this place. I declare, I don’t
see how you do it. Of course I know
now that it’s a good deal in the way
you work the land, but i didn’t think
anybody could raise crops like this.
And you never let up—fast as you git
one crop off you've got another com-
in’ on.”
“Yes,” said the boy farmer, “I'm
doing pretty well. Everything's been
favorable, though, and we've had plen-
ty of rain. As for growing more than
one crop, you've got to do that if you
want to. make any money. Besides,
land needs something on it all the time
to keep down the weeds and Keep
humus in the ground. When I get my
corn and cotton gathered I want to
hire you again to plow this land and
sow it with some kind of a cover crop
for the winter.”
“All right,” agreed Bill. *“I'll do it
And since you mentioned it I guess I'll
sow my field in something—wheat or
“Say,
i rye. I could use it for pasture, too.
| couldn’t 17"
| “Certainly,” replied Sam. “It would
| mot burt to pasture it even if you
| Were going to let it stand. But speak
i
ing of Ia
a———
ing stuff. wl
tT — .
ue a.ad 130 bushels of]
place hasn't done half what it can
be made to do. Here's something 1
clipped from a farm paper. . It'll give
you an idea what land produces when
it’s handled right” Sam took from his
pocket alittle slip of paper and read:
* “There are few who know the pos-
sibilities of the soil when well manured
and watered. One acre has produced
ear nsYS”
The Twe Put Off Down the Creek to
Fish For Perch.
0
216 bushels ot corn. and three bales of
cotton have rewarded another mun
On Long Island 400 bushels of lrish
potatoes is mot an excessively large
crop, and at Greeley, Colo., 400 bushels
is not an uncommon yield. In the Sac
ramento valley. California, Mr. Cleek
has for the past thirty years made a
good living and saved an average of
$400 per year from one acre. On the
island of Jersey rents are as high as.
$200 and $300 per acre, and near the
city of Paris they are higher still
Near San Diego, Cal., there is a colony
of “littlelanders” who believe that one
acre is enough, and many of them are
making good with their small farms
With good soils. plenty of manure and
all the water needed the possibilities
of the soil are enormous, and one crop
follows another in rapid succession.’
“What do you think of $200 and $300.
an acre for rent?’ Sam asked when he
bad finished reading. “They’ve got to
raise something on that land, haven't
they 7’
“I should say they have!” exclaimed
ill
That afternoon at 1 o'clock Bil
Googe came by for Sam, and the two
put off down the creek to fish for
perch and cat that were to be found
in the blue pools of the little stream.
Bill had intended to take his shotgun
along, but found that he was out of
powder and so had to leave off that
part of the sport.
They hadn't gone far when an old
quail ‘with her brood of young ones.
just old enough to fly, rose out of the
grass in front of them with a loud
whir of wings and sailed off into a
‘earby thicket.
“Théy’s goin’ to be some good hunt-
in’ here this fall and winter,” Bill
Googe remarked.
“You're a farmer,
Sam asked.
“Of course, a kind of one. But what
you askin’ that for?” Bill inquired, sur-
prised at the question.
“Well, a farmer ought not to kill a
farmer's friends, ought he?”
“Sure, he oughtn’t!™ George replied.
“Well, you just take it from me that
those quails and nearly all the other
birds that lwe around here are good
friends of vars. We ought not to kill
them, and we ought not to allow oth
ers to come on our places to kill them.”
“Why, I didn’t think a quail was any
good to us except to eat.” said Bill.
aren't you, Bill?"
" “go far as any one knows,” Sam ex
plained, “they're the only bird that de-
stroys the potato beetle. They eat all
they can find, and they do us a good
turn every time they gobble one. More
than that, every single quail eats thou-
sands upon thousands of boll weevils.
Some people used to argue that a quail
didn’t eat anything except grain. But
we know letter now. They eat in-
sects of all kinds, as well as weed
seed.”
“If that’s so they ought not to be
killed,” said BilL
“Of course not,” sald Sam. “We
don’t have any idea how much good
they do us. It ought to be against the
law to kill a quail at any time: As it
is, they say insects destroy one-tentb
of all we produce. If we were to kill
all the birds there’d be such a plagne
of insects that they'd kill everything--
all the trees and vegetation ot all
Farther ou Bill saw a woodpecker
hammering matily on a dead tree. He
stopped ani eiured with his finger
“Bet I contd knock im off with a rifle
from here. tie sic
“Don’t ever du it.” cantioned Sam.
“He's another triend \
“What?” exclaimed Bill. “A wood
pecker kills trees.”
“No, he doesn’t,” said Sam. “He saves
trees. A woodpecker never bores a hole
in a tree for fun He's after worms or
making himself a home, and he makes
When
his home in
bores into a
dead trees.
green tree
he
worm every time. and he
him. The hole the bird
grow up, but if the wor
kill the tree. One we
ms enue -
over 600 trees in a day and examine
them for bugs, egg deposits and worms.
It doctors the tree inside and out. I
saw a woodpecker go over nearly ev-
ery tree in our orchard.”
“Well, now. | didn’t know that,” said
Bill. “lI been knowin’ woodpeckers all
my life, but i never paid no attention
to em. Guess I won't shoot no more |
of ’em.”
“To tell the truth,” Sam went on,
there are mighty few birds or animals
but what do more good than harm. |
believe the common old house cats kill
more birds and chickens than all the
varmints put together. 1 think it's a
good deed to kill a cat whenever yon
find one. There are two kinds of
hawks—the cooper and the sharp shin-
ned—that are bad to kill birds and
chickens. These two hawks look alike.
They are small, The females are 8
mottled brownish color, and the males
are a dull blue. It's a good thing to
kill them whenever you get a chance.
The other hawks and owls don't ‘do
much harm, and they do lots of good
because they live mostly on rats and
mice and such things. Once in awhile
an owl will bother chickens, but it's
only when its regular food is scarce.
“It's pretty much the same way
about the fox, mink, weasel and skunk.
Once in awhile one of these varmints
will get to be bad after chickens. But
we could hardly do without them be
cause they keep down the swarms of
field mice, rabbits, grasshoppers, Crick
ets, hornets and wasps.’
“Where'd you find out these things?"
asked Bill. “1 know they're true when
I hear you say em, but sowebow f
never did think of em before.”
“I've learned a little by reading.
Sam told him, "but mostly by keeping
my eyes and ears open when I'm out
in the woods and fields. Sister and |
like to study plants and animals, espe
cially plants., We're going to take a
correspondence course in botany next
year in the state university. Florence
says she's going to be a florist, and |
want ‘to know all about plants, so |
can farm"
During the long afternoon Sam and
Bill tished and talked, every now and
then throwing out a blue cat or a gug
gle eye to add to their strings that
they kept fastemed to the edge of the
water. [It was cool and shady along
the creek. Birds sang and squirreis
chattered in the branches overbead.
The two farmers enjoyed the quiet
coolness after the bot days in the tied.
Late in the afternoon they wound up
their lines and went bome, each car-
rying a lohg string of fish. Sam sat
on the doorstep in the gathering dusk
and breathed the perfume from the
honeysuckle that clambered over the
yard fence. He saw the stars coming
out, one by one, and the moon creep:
ing up behind a big vak. He beard the
“who-who-who" of an owl away off on
the creek. Then suddenly stars, moon
and owl all vanished. 'He smelled
fried fish and neard his mother calling
him to supper.
| CHAPTER Vil.
AM met Mr. Burns in town ene
‘day tn September. The agent's
district embraced several coun-
8 ties, and he had been absent
for some time. The two had not seen
each other for several weeks.
“ “Hello, Sam!" accosted the agent.
“How's the corn?"
“ “That corn is all right, Mr. Burns,”
replied Sam, “and 1'd like you to come
out one day this week to see it gath-
ered and measured.”
“All right. I'll be out Friday and
bring along the committee that’s going
to report on the contest acres in this
county. Will it take long to Ethier
the corn?’
, “Yes, it's going to take quite & bit of
time, for unless I'm mighty badly mis-
taken there's sure some corn on that
patch.”
“Well, you've tried farming for a
year. What do you think of it as a
business?”
“] think it’s the finest business there
is. 1 like it better than anything else
1 can think of, and I'm going to stick
to it and learn it.”
Mr. Burns smiled. *1 see,” he said,
“that you don’t think you know all
about the business. Did you read those
books that I told you about?’
“No, sir,” said Sam, replying to the
agent's first remark, “1 really don’t
know much about farming. 1 need
more experience. Most of what I know
I've learned from reading. As for
those books, I've not only read them,
but I've studied them too. [I’ve bought
several more since then, and I'm go-
ing to keep on buying till 1 get all the
pest omnes in my line. 1 don’t belleve
it pays to economize on books, do
you?”
“No. it doesn’t,” said Mr. Burns. “If
you know the science of farming it is
easy enough to learn the rest. But you
never can farm intelligently without
learning the science of it. What other
books did you buy?”
“Well, I bought Bailey's ‘Manual of
Gardening’ for mother, but I'm study-
ing it myself. There's a whole lot to
learn about gardening, and every farm
ought to have a garden. Besides that,
‘1 bought Fletcher's *Soils—How to
Handle and Improve Them’ and Dug-’
gars ‘Diseases of Cultivated Plants’
and ‘Weeds, Insects and Insecticides.’”
“They're just the books you needed,”
sald Mr. Burns. “My, if. you keep on
reading and studying this way it won't
take you any time to finish the course
in the agricultural college when you go
down there.”
Friday morning early Bill Googe
came over with his wagon and team,
and he and Sam started in to gather
the contest acre
had gone over the patch and ga
the ears selected for seed
them at the edge of the patch
8 o'clock they bad one big log
ered and were just driv
load it in 8 bin that Sar
thered
t tot
when Mr. Burns and the judging com-
mittee arrived.
The men stood around, examined the
ears and watched them unload, then
the
gather the next load, which
but a very little time for all of them.
After that Sam brought out some mel-
ons and cantaloupes, and the men
in the shade of ‘a tree while
mainder ot the corn
By 11 o’ciock the last of the corn had
been gathered and nnloaded. Mr
Burns and the committee then meas
ured the pile of seed corn and calcu
lated the contents of the bin
“One hundred and thirty nine bush
els,” announced Mr. Burns. “Now for
the cost.”
Bvery item of expense and labor con
‘mected with the acre was put down.
All this was added up and the result
divided by 139
-%“One hundred and thirty-nine bush-
Sia; sot po bushel, 11 omnta™ an
pounced the agent again. “Well, Sam.
you're sure going to win some of those
prizes. Several of the boys are going
to beat you on production, but the cost
fs where you come in. Your acre shows
a big profit. Well, gentlemen. let's go
down to the next place. You’ll hear
from me later, Sam.”
One hundred and thirty nine bushels.
and Fagan had made twenty-five bush
els to the acre just opposite. One al
ways feels relieved when a ong, hard
task != finished. This was Sam's feel
ing as he watched the men drive off
He bad done his best and his work had
been fairly measured. He felt more
frec now to finish up the work on the
farm and turn his attention to. schoo!
and study.
The young farmer removed the husks
from bis seed corn, then went through
it sud made a second selection of the
finest ears. From these ears he re
moved the defective grains at the ends
and then shelled the rest into stout
sacks.
In selecting seed cotton he pursued
pretty much the same plan. After
picking the cotton from the finest
stalks and polls be bad It ginned and
saved the seed. These seeds he put in
a screen that let the small and lintless
ones pass through.
This method gave Sam the finest seed
from the wrgest and most perfect
plants, both of cotton and corn. He
cold have sold at high prices much
more than he had to spare of either
kind. One day, just after the seed had
been selected and was stored away.
Miles Fagan came over to buy.
*1 want to buy some 0 that cotton
and corn seed of yours,” he said
“How much can you spare me and
what'll they be worth?”
“I'm selling them at $2 per bushel
for either kind.” Sam told him, “and
1 have only six bushels of corn and
twenty of cotton seed to sell.”
“My, but that’s a high price!” ex
claimed Fagan, *'Still, I reckon they're
worth it and I'll take the lot.”
Can't let you have them all,” said
the boy farmer. “l've promised Bill
Googe half of them, so you can have
three bushels of corn and ten of cot
ton seed.”
That ain’t as many as | need. but
I take ‘em,” said Mr. Pagan.
“Sani’s school chums gathéred most of
his cotton crop, for which he paid them
at the rate of 60 cents per hundred
pounds. Ten and sometimes twelve of
im would come out early Saturday
morning and pick until night, in which
{ime no less than a bale’ would be
' . When the las¢ straggling
docks of the patch had been gathered
flam found that his ¢rop had yielded
one bald’to the acre. The five bales he
sold for $250 and stored away 150
bushels of seed for feed.
The four acre tract of corn yielded
seventy bushels to the acre. or a total
of 280 bushels, all of which Sam put
fn the barn with that trom the one
acre. He didn’t intend to sell any of
this crop. as he could make more by
feeding it to hogs.
The crops were now about all gath
ered. There remained the peas and
the pumpkins that had been sown
among the corn and the turnips. which
were not yet ready to be gathered.
8am hauled but many loads of big
golden pumpkins with the one horse
wagon. There was’ not much market
for pucapkins, but he managed to sell
about 100 at § cents each, or a total of
$6 worth. And still he had more
pumpkins than he knew what to do
with. He knew, however, that what
the family did not use would be fine
feed for the hogs and cows when the
cold weather of winter came on. So
he carefully stored them away.
With the black eyed pea crop it was
she same. Sam thought that he had
never seen so many peas in all his life.
He sold $20 worth, gathered what
would be needed at home, and then,
the vines still full, he turned in the
hogs and cows for a week’s feast.
According to agreement, Bill Googe
came over when the stock had cleared
out most of the pea crop and set to
work with a large plow turning under
vines, stalks and all. The cotton stalks
were large, and a great many of them,
as well as some cornstalks, were left
above ground. But when Sam sowed
the ground with winter oats and rye
and had Googe follow him with a disk
it cut the stalks to pieces and left the
soil smooth and unbroken.
Soon after they finished sowing a
gentle rain began falling, lasting for a
day. It sank .into the soft soil and
seemed to touch the planted grain with
magic. In a very short time the field
The day before Sam
| 1
| great bulk
and piled !
Before |
from end to end was one long carpet
of green.
The year was growing old, and the |
f the work was done. Sam
now
had
i Of n
‘as sometimes a hint
‘ing the year. orn
of
the air,
sultrv
Sam’s friends. Fred
feasted
$e ‘snd Bill Googe gathered the re |
] Joe "Watson and Andrew
White, had visited him several times
that summer in addition to the days
that they bad worked. But he had
something that he thought would make
a pleasant surprise for the boys, so hé
invited his neighbor. Bob Fagan, and
those three from town to visit him om
Saturday. Sam’s surprise was some
large watermelons, the last of the sea-
son, that he had covered up with grass
and kept fresh and sound The melon
crop had been gone for a long time,
and this would be a treat worth giv-
ing on what would probably be their
last visit this year. Even Bob Fagan
would be as much surprised as any, for
they never grew melons on the Fagan
farm and knew nothing about keeping
them until cold weather.
The boys came, and the day proved
to be suitable for the occasion. It was
a hot, sultry day and seemed to belong
more to midsummer than to autumn.
First the melons were carried to the
creek near the swimming hole and
dumped in a clear pool to float round
and round and cool. Then the boys
were off on a hunt for wild grapes and
pecans. They found both. Winter
grapes and fox grapes they found
hanging in thick, purple clusters from
vines that ran along branches and
from tree to tree. To get them the
boys generally had to do a lot of
climbing, but they liked this, though
they had to be careful about getting
too far out on weak limbs.
The pecans’ hulls were popping open
and dropping their frat to the ground,
go they had little to do except to pick
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The Melons Were Carried to the Creek
Near the Swimming Hole.
them up or chunk the trees to bring
more down. The only competitors they
were the squirrels and crows.
crows merely feasted, but the
were busy In every tree,
gathering their winter supply and stor-
fog them away in their homes in the
twee hollows.
Autumn is atime of beautiful colows.
and the nature lover, like Sam Powell,
prizes it almost as much as spring.
Sam gave his comrades their first les-
son in wooderaft—how to see things.
He pointed out to them the flashing
colors of red and brown and green and
gold. For the first time they really
saw the sumacs flaming on the hill or
the red birds and jay birds making
red and blue streaks as they flew
swiftly through the woods. He show-
ed them how to sit very still and see
the wild things that would come out
and begin their work and play all
around.
The hours passed swiftly. and before
the boys realized it noon was long
past. Being hungry and tired, they
turned back toward the creek and the
pool where the melons were floating in
the sparkling water in a short time
Li)
they were there. aud, car viig melons
to a grassy place in the ~u de of some
trees. they cut thew iy = and ex-
posed the juicy wed hci. in a jiffy
each boy had 8 big dripjnug slice and
was eating it between grunts of satis-
faction. :
They lay in the shade and talked a
long time after they had disposed of
the watermelons. One or two slept,
and Sam and the others amused them-
selves by throwing rocks at the trunk
ef a tree. Suddenly some one said:
“Let's go swimming. I'm going to be
Best in!” Then the race began. Every
bey wes up in a second, peeling off his
@lothes faster than he had ever done
before in his life.
Three were so close together that it
wes hard to tell which was first. They
gave a whoop and, running to the
bank, sprang into the air. They came
down head first, for the water was
deep, and there was no danger of
striking anything. Chug, chug, chug,
they went, one after the other. The
water was as warm as on an August
day, and the boys had fine sport. They
dived after pebbles, had contests of
swimming under water, floating, tread-
ing or swimming on their backs.
Somehow that afternoon seemed too
short to the boys. They had been
| swimming a long time when Joe Wat-
» leisure than he had had |
but the days were yet |
son Sooke LS snddenly
To Be Continued.
Children Cry
FOR FLETCHER'S
CASTORIA