Walkerton Independent, Volume 62, Number 2, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 4 June 1936 — Page 2

FLAME IN THE FOREST By HAROLD TITUS CopyrightbrHaroldTllua. Illustrations by IrWID Myers WNVS«rvI«K

CHAPTER Xll—Continued “West kills Downer and caches away the money. Only just now. he's dared to use a little of it, some that he didn't know could be identified. When the first of it showed up, on the same night I happened to hit the Landing, Ezra came to me and let me in on IL I’ve been busy ever since.” Rapidly he narrated what they had learned and suspected; what they had found today; his encounter with Bluejay and the very obvious fact that his own arrest had been made on Tod West’s suggestion. “You see, he had a double motive with you. Likely he, too, thinks that Nan . . . well, likes you a lot. He wants you out of the way. You were in a bad spot the night of Downer’s murder; he plants the box with just a little money, gets Bluejay ready to swear to this story of his and figures that’ll dispose of you. “Me, though; he figured he’d better hire me killed and he missed by about a hair. The next best thing is to keep me behind bars as long as he can because he knows damned well neither Ezra nor I fell for the Bluejay lie about you and that cash box. “Here we are: the two of us in jail, something over twelve thousand dollars still missing and West on the loose. “Did you notice that West's head and neck were swollen up? You did? Am I crazy, or did I hear somebody say he’d been stung by a hornet?” “That’s what he told!” Stuart was trembling, infected by Young's intensity. “Check! That’s no hornet sting. That’s bee sting. He's been fooling around bees somewhere; he gets stung and gets all daubed up with honey because there’s honey on the box and honey on the crowbar he used in making the plant!" "The hell you say!” “Fact! Do you know anybody that keeps bees?” “Bees? There isn’t a hive of ’em in the county. I know all these settlers and —’’ “But there are wild bees in the woods. ... Oh God!“ he muttered, rising and slapping a hand to his head. "Why the devil won’t a man's brain work when he needs It most? . . . Honey and money! Money and honey! “We should be out of here tonight, hut there isn’t a chance. And controlling county politics as he does, you can bet West’ll see to it neither one of us gets loose in a hurry. . . . Money and honey. . . . Holf, the thing’s just too damned hot to let drop. . . . How in the name of high heaven can we get out of here?” He swung out of the cell and tiptoed to the window before which he had stood. The heavy bars were set in stone. Even with a hack saw, it would take hours to cut through. . . . Back he ran to the panel of steel which made the front of their prison. Bars, heavy and thick, ran from ceiling to floor; the lower ends were set in a steel plate; the plate was held to the concrete floor by heavy lag screws, square headed, solid. . . . On his knees he felt along that plate. “Lord, here's a short section of it!” he whispered. . . . “Look; the thing's in three sections.” —running his hands up the bars. “This door and its steel frame is one . . . And one, two, four . . . seven lag screws hold it to the floor. With those out .. .” “But how?” Holt whispered, voice shaking, now. “How the devil ’d you get ’em out? Where’d you find a wrench?” “Wrench? . . . Wr . . . Why . . . King Christopher! Holt, on the way in, d’you hear—” He gripped the other's arm so tightly that the boy winced. He strained to listen and put his lips close to Stuart’s ear. “Stand here and if anybody comes talk or whistle or sing. . . . Whistle if you can! For the love of God, walk up and down and whistle. . . . No, never mind why. . . . Let me alone . . . I'm going to try to pull a fast one. . . . Got any string? Search yourself! Or a shoe string’d do. . . . Yes! Get one out. . . . And cover me up, boy, if you ever did anything in all your life!” Ducking into a cell he felt along the base of the brick wall, scraping up fragments of plaster. With these, he went quickly to the rear window and peered down. Tip lay there, still panting from his long, hard run. “Hi, chum !” —cautiously. The dog rose and stood looking upward, tall busy. “Tip, fetch!” On the command Kerry tossed a bit of plaster toward the car. The retriever went out with a great bound, running in short circles, snuffling. looking up, whining. “Fetch!” Again he tossed a fragment and it struck the fender. With the sound. Tip whirled, bounded toward the car, pawed at the ground and picked up the plaster in his mouth, trotting back to his place below the , window. “Give! Now .. . fetch again! In ] the car, boy, in the car!” Behind him. Holt Stuart was pacing ■ and whistling lowly, raggedly; not a . musical whistle; a rather dry and ( husky one, to be sure, but still, it was sound. . . . Mystified, Tip trotted out to where he f had found the plaster and sniffed and ! ] pawed, looked back, trotted around the car, stopped and lifted his nose high, ( drinking in scent from the seat. “Right! Good dog ! Up, now ! Fetch. Lightly, the dog leaped within, bunt- • Ing the half opened door wide. He investigated at length, smelling here and j there, pawing, and then, on a blanket which spread across the cu^ ion, ho found his master's scent and immedi- i । ately began tugging at it .stoutly. “No! Not that! Not the robe!’ Young moved his feet up and down relieve the nervous tension which ' i

racked his body. “Stay there. .. . And fetch. . . . Fetch, old timer!” Tip abandoned the rug. More snuffling, more pawing, and then he came trotting toward the jail wall, a limp glove in his jaws. “Fine ! Give. .. . That's a boy ! And fetch again!” He turned and beckoned Stuart closer with a jerk of his head. “Working fine! Get a blanket and cut it into strips, about so wide,” — measuring with thumb and finger. “And keep whistling! For the love of God don’t stop whistling! It means more to us than you'll ever realize.” And now Tip was fetching a tire iron and next he brought a pair of pliers, handling the metal gingerly, head bent far to one side as the grip necessary to holding them hurt his teeth. As he deposited each against the wall he looked up and threshed bls tail and panted. “Fetch!” whispered Young harshly. “Clean her out! Bound ’to be a wrench!” But It was an S wrench and then the other glove and a screw driver; next a jack handle and then . . . Young was laughing excitedly as he waved an arm wildly for Holt because Tip was advancing, a monkey wrench held gingerly from the side of his mouth. “Good dog! Take I. . . Hold it, now ! Steady. . . .” “How’s that?” muttered Stuart, thrusting the rope made of a ripped blanket into Kerry’s hands. “Whistle! . . . Stay by the door and whistle!” He scanned the darkness beyond the lighted area anxiously. Any passer, seeing the dog, could upset his plan. And Nat Bridger might have his vanity satiated by now by the gang at the pool room. Time was precious. The blanket rope was long enough. He bent the shoe lace to it and made in it a running loop. Then cautiously he thrust the string through the bars and carefully paid out the strands of woolen. Tip stood there obediently, wrench in his jaws, rolling bls eyes toward that descending noose. It swung and swayed; the loop touched the dog’s head, dangled near the wrench and . . . then closed of its own weight! With a muttered curse, Kerry jerked It upward again. Improved the knot and tried once more. Thrice and a fourth time he was forced to open the loop before It finally swung over the end of the wrench. Then, holding his breath, he drew it taut and with a muttered, “Give!” swung the wrench free. It touched the wall with a dull clink; it came up and he drew a great gasp of night air as his hand, thrust between the bars, closed upon It. How they worked on those tightlyset lag screws! On their knees, close together, ready to throw themselves back into the cells at the first alarming sound, they toiled. Two of the seven came easily. Two more yielded to their combined strengths. The fifth and the sixth finally moved but the seventh . . . Ah, that seventh! With Stuart’s hands gripped over Kerry’s they put their weights on the wrench handle until Young thought the flesh would roll from his palms. They sweated and panted and cursed in whispers and then, without warning, it gave, letting go so suddenly that Kerry lunged noisily against the cell bars. And on that sound came another: steps approaching; feet at the entry and they scuttled for their cells. “Any calls. Ma?” It was Bridger's voice and a woman answered from somewhere. He came on and peered through the door, trying the lock. Young held his lungs flat for fear the whole panel would move. “You boys all right?” he asked. “What d’you mean, all right?” Stuart growled. The sheriff laughed and turned away. For an hour, then, they lay still and not until a muffled, regular snoring heralded the fact that rest had come to the county’s servant did they leave their cots. It was the work of a mere moment to remove the last screw and, with his shoulder to the panel. Young shoved carefully. The bottom plate grated on the concrete, gave, squeaked a trifle and then .. . swung free! A man could roll beneath it to the jail corridor and be on his way. But he let it swing back and crouched there on the floor listening. Abruptly, he said: “After I’m gone, you set the screws back and cover the heads with dust.” Stuart looked at him blankly. “You mean . . . That is . . . You’re going alone?” “Listen, chum! It’s tough, I know. But you’re in as a murder suspect. Breaking jail would be damned serious for you. With me, it’s a lesser offense. And, besides that, we’ll need information about Bridger's plans, perhaps.” That was not his reason, his real reason. Good enough, to be sure; but knowing Stuart for a hot-headed, impulsive boy, he did not dare risk liberating him now, when so much and such careful, patient work lay before him. “Hell, Young! I hadn’t figured—” “But I had. I know Just what's got to be done, outside. Can’t you see that maybe you'll be . . . you’ll be helping Nan by sticking here and keeping your eyes and ears open?” “Os course, if you put It that way »» His consent was not without reluctance. Kerry rolled beneath the out-swung panel. “Good luck!” They gripped hands through the bars. “Tell Nat the fairies came for me. . . . And when you’ve got the screws back, duck that wrench down the sewer.” And silently he made his way into the sheriff’s office, down the side steps

I and with a low whistle to Tip, leaped into the car standing ready. He opened the choke wide, stepped • on the starter and the motor caught > and drummed. Then, quickly, he slipped in the clutch and turned down the jail I drive to the street. Once there he looked over his shoulder. Lights showed above two entrances to the jail but windows of the I sheriff’s living quarters showed blank. Nat Bridger was deep in dreams of I continued grandeur while a prisoner I used his car for escape and as Kerry s bounced across the railroad tracks, leaving even the outskirts of town bei hind, and headed for the Mad Woman . he beat Tip’s ribs resoundingly with one hand and laughed until the muscles of his belly ached. “ CHAPTER XIII Jim Hinkle had not slept. Too much • had happened at Nan’s headquarters 1 and too much speculation had gone on at the Landing that night to let his 1 senses sink into unconsciousness. BeI sides, he had had Tod West to watch, until West took to his bed. He had promised Young he would watch West’s ! every move and was doing his best 1 to make his word good. i So when that light rapping came on his door he was out of bed with a ' stealthy bound. “Young, Hm,” came the cautious whisper in answer to his query. “Come I out here!” “My God, Young, how’d you—” “Never mind anything now’, Jim. Where's West?” “Asleep,” — peering tow’ard Tod’s house. “I watched until long after he’d gone to bed. He come to th’ store pret’ well tanked up, I'd say. That was 'n hour after they took you to town. He seemed more like his old self ’n he has for a long time. He laughed 'nd visited 'nd then went home. I watched through his window 'nd saw him hittin’ a bottle right hard. Then he went to bed.” “One other Item about West. Where was he yesterday? Friday?” “That’s somethin' I dunno. All day Thursday he hung here. I seen him talk to Bluejay in the evenin' 'nd—” “Check!” “—he turned in right after that. Friday he made a lot of fuss about goln’ flshin’. He drove to Big Beaver 'nd & Wli, 7* ■ 7 fl I ccmmikayll’ O' ki or * v '\'Mol■ ‘ / I < ■ tL" She Looked Up Almost Timidly and Gave Him Her Hands. set up his rod ’nd got ready to fish, but he didn’t fish! He cached his rod under a log ’nd hit out. I fullered far's I could but lost his trail, it bein’ so dry that—” “Which way 'd he go?” “North ’nd west.” “That checks, too. And when he came back to town, what?" “All puffed up. Said a hornet'd stung him.” “Fine!” whispered Kerry. “That all ties in. “That’s enough of West. I've got to talk fast. Back down the road half a mile you’ll find Nat Bridger’s car—” “Nat’s!” “Yeah. It ... It helped speed his departing guest!"—chuckling. “I don’t want him to know what direction I bit, of course. I want you to drive his bus back to Shoestring, cut east on the trunk line highway, go as far as you can without making too much of a walk for yourself, let the air out of a tire and leave it.” “But what are you goin’ to do, Kerry?” “Going bee hunting.” “Bee huntin’!” The man’s incredulity was explosive. “What do you want of—” “I don’t know. That’s the devil of it! I'm on my way. You get back, fast as you can, and stand by to watch Tod.” “My gosh, Kerry, I don’t understand—” “And neither do I maybe. Good night!” At Nan’s, Young also encountered sleeplessness. He could see the girl and old Ezra sitting together in the light of a single lamp and from the doorway he hailed them cautiously. “Careful, now!” he warned as their amazement became articulate. “I don’t want to be seen.” Omitting all detail, he told what had happened. Then: “Money and honey, Ezra! There’s a hook-up somewhere; they tie in. I’m on my way to try to wrangle it out. I want some stuff from the kitchen and the men’s shanty, Nan.” His eyes had been fast on her face as be talked, rapidly and lowly. Its oval seemed more sweet and gentle than ever. He wanted to touch her, to take her hands, to draw her close and say the things that W’ere surging in his heart, of far more consequence

than the things he let his lips say. But he put the Impulse back. They followed into the darkened kitchen and he searched for what he needed: a small, fibre cracker box, a tumbler, a jar of strained honey. “Get me a quart bottle, please, Nan. Fill it two thirds of honey and finish with water; warm, if you’ve got it. I’ll need a pack sack and some stuff from the shanty.” He was back in a moment, sack on his shoulder, rltie in his hand and quickly stowed away the other articles. “Ezra, we’ve got to keep Bridger as far in the dark as we hope we can keep West. We didn't dare trust Nat with the bullet identification; no more can we on the finger prints. You’ll find Jim Hinkle home by the middle of the forenoon, anyhow’. My suggestion is that you write a telegram and send him out with it; away out; I wouldn't even trust the Shoestring operator. Get the state police in here as fast as they can come and until they are on the job you sit on the stuff we brought in last evening and don't let a soul near it, much less touch it. Am I right?” “Right as rain! I’d wondered what to do and this is it!” He turned to Nan, then, and his strained excitement subsided. He looked down at her, smiling in the faint light. She was more appealing, more desirable than ever . . . and Holt Stuart’s words, with all their incredible implications, came back to him. He felt suddenly humble. ‘There are so many things to say to you. Nan,” he said gravely and saw her eyes drop at the quality of his tone. Ezra noted it too, likely, and moved softly away. But Young did not follow through. "Tonight, though, there’s only one thing for us to think about, to work and hope and pray for: that is to reach the end of this trail we’re on. After that . ..” She looked up almost timidly and gave him her hands. He stooped on quick impulse, and pressed them to his lips. Then he went hastily out. With Tip at his heels he disappeared In the night, taking the road he had traveled thrice yesterday, once on foot and twice in Ezra's car; the read where he had seen bees working in wild bloom. . .. An early northern dawn was already dimming the stars when he reached the place. He was drenched to the hips with tiie dew that clung to the grasses. He spread his one blanket and, rifle against his side, Tip's warm body for a pillow, slouch hat over his eyes, snuggled down for what sleep he might have. A vireo was already singing but he dropped off and it was the sun on his cheek two hours later which wakened him. Fireweed grew all about, rank and tall, with its light magenta blossoms drooping and a-glisten with dew; drops of dew that gleamed like jewels In the slanting sunlight. The sky was cloudless, the morning very still and he muttered a word of thanks for that. A fire of dry cedar twigs which threw’ little smoke made his breakfast tea and broiled his bacon. As he ate, he watched the flowers begin to nod gracefully under the slightest of breezes, saw the dew disappearing from them, saw the petals spreading wide. As soon as lie had eaten he took the cracker box from his sack and cut a hole an inch square in the cover. He smoked his pipe thereafter and waited, listening, looking, the dog sitting before him with a puzzled expression, stirring now and again and whining lowly and licking his chops and gaping. After all that had happened yesterday and last night, Tip appeared to be thinking, this was a devil of a way to start the morning! "Ha! . . . Here we are!” Young was on his feet, then, bending over a blossom that sagged slightly under the weight of a bee. Busily the striped insect explored that flower and crawled to another and still a third and finally, locating what he wanted, squeezed his head and fore parts into the petal fringed nectar cup. “Shove ’em, old feller!” Kerry chuckled as the hind legs braced and the bee twisted and strained mightily to get nearer the precious product of the bloom. “If a bee can grunt. Tip, he’s grunting! Look at him work!” He shook the bottle n f diluted honey and poured some carefully Inside his box. Then, holding the open receptacle beneath the working bee, he struck the spike smartly, knocking him free, down into the box, and clapped the cover In place. With his hat, he covered the top and waited, squatting, while the bee buzzed w’ithln, bumping sides and top and bottom, angered and frightened at this strange, dark imprisonment. . . . The buzzing was constant for an interval; then stopped . . . began again; halted . . . hesitated and w’as still. “Found it!” he chuckled. “Just like we found good old Nat’s car last night!” (TO BE CONTINUED) Thames Race 200 Years Old An English actor, Thomas Doggett, bequeathed in 1722 a sum of money in trust to the Fishmongers’ company “for the promotion of a race between young Thames watermen who shall, within 12 months of the event, have completed their apprenticeship and taken up the Freedom of the River." One of the conditions of the race is that “It shall be rowed against the tide at a time when the tide runs the strongest.” The course is from London bridge to Chelsea bridge (four and a half miles) and the winner receives an orange-colored coat and breeches, a pair of silk stockings, a cap with a badge of Liberty, and a silver badge to be worn on the left arm bearing the White Horse of Hanover. He receives also a cash prize of 20 pounds.—Detroit News.

Cheaper Feed for More Profit Home-Grown Grains Can Increase Farmer’s Margin. More than one farmer Is making the most of the Improved prices for dairy products by adopting economical feeding methods. Savings made through more economical feeding are only one of the many ways in which farmers who are members of dairy herd improvement associations are finding that they can increase their returns. Substitution of home-grown grains for more expensive protein feeds together with replacement of part of the corn by oats are two ways by which ualrymen are finding it possible to cut feed costs without lowering their herd production averages. One farmer increased his monthly net Income from 17 cows by SIO.BB with a less expensive ration. Oats replaced a part of the corn in the ration, thus reducing the cost of feed approximately 24 cents a hundred pounds. His herd also produced 34 more pounds of butterfat a month on the cheaper feed. Another increased his net income $11.55 a month through the same kind of a ration change. A third dairyman used a ration composed of corn, oats and distiller's grain instead of corn and a high protein supplement previously used and was able to cut feed costs by nine cents a hundred pounds, although the protein content was the same. The cheaper ration reduced the feed cost of butterfat by five cents a pound and the feed cost of milk by 14 cents a hundred pounds. Control of Erosion Important to Farmer Controlling erosion, the thief of fertile topsoil, is a prominent feature of the new soil-improvement program. The soil-building and conserving crops advocated under the new program serve to che<k erosion in several ways. While these crops are growing, their roots form a thick mat which holds the soil particles In place. They also check the run-'ff of rain water by Impeding its flow down hill and by increasing the capacity of the land to absorb water In large quantities. Then after they have been plowed under, the building and conserving crops add organic matter to the soil that makes It soft and spongy. Rain soaks into such sol] and is held for long periods. Soil well filled with organic matter also has a greater tendency to remain In place than gritty wind or clay soils. When the soil absorbs large quantities of water it prevents floods during heavy rains and keeps the land from drying out so completely when rainfall is scarce. On an 8 per cent slope a field on which nothing but corn is grown will lose 25 per cent of its rainfall by immediate runoff and an average of G7 , tons of soil per acre through erosion । each year. But if the field Is In a good solli building crop, it will lose less than 5 ! per cent of Its rainfall and only a few | hundred pounds of soil per acre. When corn, wheat, and clover are grown in rotation, the average run-off of rain water is less than half the amount from a field kept continually in corn, and the soil losses are only one-seventh as much. Use for Durum Wheat While durum wheat Is unsatisfactory for the manufacture of bread, It is particularly suitable for the production of macaroni, spaghetti and other similar food products which are collectively known as alimentary pastes. The best quality pastes are made from semolina, a coarse granular product obtained from durum wheat by a special milling process which differs from that employed in tiie production of flour from bread wheat. Macaroni and similar products, says the Montreal Herald, are prepared from semolina by mixing and kneading it with water and salt to produce a stiff unleavened dough which is forced through suitable dies to produce the shapes desired, the surplus water added being removed by a drying or curing treatment Agricultural Notes A good home does not operate o a dole system. • ♦ * Seventy-seven per cent of the farm homes still use lamps for lighting purposes. • • • A farm woman who does not have running water yearly carries two tons of water two miles. * • • The champion and reserve champion carload lots of cattle at the 1935 International were fed corn on pasture until August 10 and September 1, respectively, and then finished in dry lot. * • * More Ohio farmers are using farm account books than in recent years, and books closed for last year indicate a general gain in farm income. * * • Losses caused by the yellow dwarf disease of potatoes in 1935 were probably the worst that New York state has yet experienced. » » • Small amounts of bonemeal mixed with the wet mash or even the dry will be of decided benefit in supplying the bone growth for any and all farm animals and poultry. * * * The best time to immunize hogs against hog cholera is before any sign of disease appears. • • • No one thing does so much to Improve a herd as a better sire each time a change is made. ♦ ♦ • Sows on good pasture need perhaps half as much other feed, give more milk and the pigs grow’ faster than when the sows and their litters are In dry lot. This is where a good rye pasture is useful. It saves the alfalfa or clover from destruction, too.

bom TELLS WHY CHICKS DIE WHEN BROODED Coccidiosis, Pullorum, Cause Poultryman Says. By C M. Ferguson. Extension Poultryman. ’ for the Ohio State University. WNU Service. When chicks die during the brooding season, the cause is usually coccidiosis or pullorum tlisease. For pullorum disease there is no cure. The disease is transmitted from the parent through the egg. It is caused by a specific bacteria, and may be controlled only through a sound program of blood testing of breeding flocks. Coccidiosis, on the other hand. Is caused by a microscopic organism that enters the chick's body through the alimentary tract. It may be picked up from contaminated soil, contaminated feed, or contaminated litter, and the most likely source of the infection is from adult chickens on the farm. It is very unlikely that this disease is often purchased with the chicks. The surest means of preventing an Infection is to isolate the young chicks from the old chickens. Hens should not be allowed to associate with chicks, nor be permitted to run over the ground on which the chicks are being ranged. Use of cinder yards, wire porches and clean range all have their place In fighting this disease, hut in addition, it is important to take precaution against carrying the disease organism from the adult flock to the chicks on the poultryman’s feet. For this purpose, wear rubbers when caring for the chicks. Since coccidiosis organism requires warmth and moisture during the part of its life cycle spent outside the body of the fowl. It is good practice to keep the brooder house as dry as possible by placing water fountains on screened platforms. Finds Oil Dipped Eggs Will Hold Fresh Quality Many poultrymen beat the heat in summer by dipping eggs in a thin, white mineral oil. This seals the pores of the shells and helps the eggs retain their fresh quality. Recent tests by the United States Department of Agriculture show that oiled eggs also stay fresh much better in cold storage than unoiled eggs. In an eight-month storage test, the original grade was retained by G-5.8 per cent of the eggs oiled at a temperature of GO degrees F.; by 55 per cent oiled at 80 degrees, but by only 32.5 per cent of those which were unoiled. Eggs given the oil and vacuum carbon dioxide treatment retained 88 per । cent of their original grade at the : end of the storage test. This method, ! developed by T. L. Swenson, of the bureau of chemistry and soils, was 35 per cent more efficient than plain oiling and 173 per cent more efficient than storage with no oil treatment. In the vacuum process eggs are dipped in oil in an air-tight chamber. Enough air is pumped out to create a partial vacuum. Some air also escapes from the eggs. When carbon dioxide is turned into the chamber, the eggs draw’ enough oil into the pores of the shell to form a complete seal. Carbon dioxide has a stabilizing effect on the egg white. If air is used, eggs do not retain their freshness. The “Silkie” Bantam The “silkie” bantam is the most unique specimen of all ponltrydom, and is one of the oldest of the over 100 varieties of bantams. The silkie does not have feathers like other fowls, but is covered with a silky down, from whence it derives its name. Silkie bantams are bred in white, black, golden and partridge, but the most perfect are the white, as they are the original, and the variations of color are yet in the making. Aside from their plumage they are unique in that their skin, flesh, and bones are a dark mulberry color. They are good layers of medi-um-sized eggs. Their most valuable characteristic is their propensity to be broody, and they are prized by game and rare bird breeders for hatching and rearing valuable and tender birds. Silkie bantams cannot fly. Original Bantam Breeds The original bantam breeds, imported and otherwise, are: Cuckoo Cochin, Bearded and Non-bearded Mille Fleur, Blue de Anvers, Black de Grubbe, Blue de Grubbe, Black Belgian, Blue Belgian, Quail Belgian, Black Belgian Barbus de Anvers, Mottled de Anvers, Blue Belgian Barbus de Anvers, Belgian de Uccle, Golden Sebright, Silver Sebright, Black Sumatra, White Silkie, Black Silkie, White Japanese, Gray Japanese, Black Tailed Japanese, Creve Coeur, Black Rose Comb. Ducks for Meat, Eggs Disregarding any difference in size or color of eggs, it may be said that the Pekin duck is to be preferred where meat production is the object, as it is on practically all duck farms. The Pekin has to give place to the Indian Runner if egg production alone is had in mind and these two breeds may be said to summarize in themselves the most desirable market qualities, with other breeds having each its own distinctive merits. The Indian Runner lays a white egg. Trouble at Water Fountain Because most worms and disease germs thrive in moist, warm surroundings, the soil and litter around tiie water fountain probably holds first place as an incubator of trouble. And for this reason measures should be taken to protect the chicks, and poults. : against tiie hazard. This can be done ‘ quite satisfactorily, says the Missouri 1 Farmer, by constructing a wire plat- ' form for the fountain which will • screen in the wet litter and soil so that 1 chicks cannot have access.

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