CHAFFEE
of
ROARING HORSE
BY ERNEST HAYCOX
CHAPTER I
Jim Chaffee Takes a Chance
When Jim Chaffee walked
out of his homestead for the
last time in three long years
of struggle, It was with his
senses sharpened to the
pleasantness of the place he
was losing. The cabin sat on
the south bank of a small
creek that crossed the desert
diagonally from the white and
hooded peaks of Roaring
Horse range to the dark, dis
'mally deep slash of Roaring
Horse canyon. Cottonwoods
bunched about the log house,
the lodgepole corrals, the
pole-and-shake barn. The
morning’s sun, brilliant but
without warmth, streamed
through the apertures of the
trees; the sparkle of frost was
to be seen here and there in
the shadowed crevices of the
creek bank. Standing so, Jim
Chaffee could look up along
the course of the creek and
through the lane of trees to
see the distant bench fold and
hoist itself some thousands of
feet until it met the sheer and
glittering spires of the range.
A solitary white cloud floated
across the serene blue; the
broad, yellowing cottonwood
leaves bellied gently down
around him, and there was
the definite threat of winter
in the sharp air, reminding
Jim of the nights he had
‘spent beside a glowing stove,
listening to the blizzard howl
ground the stout eaves, dream
ing his dreams. He could never
step inside the cabin again;
those three years had gone
for nothing.
Before'closing the door he
ranged the room with a last
wistful glance, a last reluctant
appraisal of those household
goods with which he had
lived for so long a time. Every
thing was neat and clean on
this eventful morning; the
’ dishes were washed and
stacked in the cupboard, the
floor swept, the fire drawn.
Nothing was out of place,
'nothing removed excepting
one small article, a bright
blue-patterned mushbowl that
he carried under an arm. Even
the bed was made up. All this
Ire studied, as well as the
pictures tacked to the walls—
pictures cut from old maga
zines—and the. odds and ends
of furniture that he had so
laboriously created. He looked
at these things gravely, re
gretfully, and then closed the
door, turned the lock, and
dropped the key in his pocket.
As the lock clicked his lips
pressed together and his face
settled; from the moment of
discovery Jim Chaffee had
liked the location above all
others. Within its area he felt
contented, somehow controlled
by the conviction that he had
struck roots into the very soil.
Nor had he ever gone away
from it without turning rest
less and wishing soon to be
back. Three years of himself
was in the place; a part of
his heart was there.
1 His horse stood saddled and
■waiting. Jim swung up and
turned out along the trail. A
hundred yards away he
stopped to look for the last
time. Tiie cabin was half
hidden in the creek’s depres
sion, a faint wisp of smoke
spiraled from the chimney; he
had seen this picture a
thousand times, yet to-day it
affected him ctrangely. For
to-day at noon his notes fell
due and he hadn’t as much as
a solid dollar to pay on them.
Real property and chattels
belonged after that hour to
the bank, and he became
whattJie-jhad been in the be
ginning, 1 an errant cow
puncher with a horse beneath
him and the sky above. Noth
ing more. Three severe
winters and a falling market
had wiped him out.
He looked to the peaks and
shook »his head. They stood
tect woiking men from oppression;
supporting labor In its fights to gain
* status wh:re it can bargain equal
ly with capital; upholding welfare
* legislation designed to combat un
"V t employment, long hours of labor, !
and Insanitary working conditions. I
'" “We must'bear In mind that the
United States is a democracy, and
that we must have, above all things,
wen,” he said once.
Justice Brandeis has fought to
protect man’s right to individual
thought and freedom. He believes
that “in frank expression of con
flicting opinion lies the greatest
'promise of wisdom in gov^rnmec'®1
out too clearly, they seemed
to close; and around the tips
was a faint, contorted wisp of
a cloud that inevitably
augured the fourth successive
hard winter. He lifted his gun
from the holster, fired a single
shot, and whirled about, gal
loping rapidly away.
“By the Lord I hate to go!”
For a moment rebellion and
bitterness made a bleak battle
ground of his cheeks; then the
expression was gone. It
couldn’t last long, for he had
seen disaster coming many
months before and had braced
himself for this final scene.
It wasn’t hard to lose money
or labor, but he knew he
would never again find a
piece of land lying watered
and sheltered and snug like
the piece he was leaving. Even
if he did find it he wouldn’t
feel the same somehow.
“A man,” he murmured,
“nourishes a picture a long
while and gets sort of attached
to it. No other picture will do.
Not even if it’s identic. Well,
we’re free. Now what?”
He studied the question over
the even miles of desert,
studied it with a somber
leisure, sitting slack in the
saddle and ever now and anon
sweeping the horizons with
long, close-lidded surveys. He
made a splendid picture as he
swayed to the dun beast’s pro
gress—a tall man built in that
mold so deceptive to the casual
eye. He seemed to have no
particular claim to physical
strength. His shoulders were
broad yet rather sharp at the
points, and his chest was long
and fairly flat; on this frame
his clothes hung loosely and
so concealed the springs of
his power, which were muscles
that lay banded along arm and
shoulder like woven wire. A
stiff-brimmed Stetson slanted
the shadows over a face lean
almost to the point of gaunt
ness. It was bronzed by the
sun and without furrows or
wrinkles to mark the labor he
had put behind him. His chin
was cleft, his mouth was wide,
but his lips were thin, and
constantly under the guard
of his will. Deep within pro
tecting wells his eyes were apt
to remain fixed on some
distant point for long intervals
of time; and from the ex
pression in them it was evi
dent they had the power to
draw the rest of his face into
a mask or to fill it with
buoyancy and humor.
“The answer,” he said to
himself after the homestead
faded in the distance, “is sort
of plain. A man can win or
he can lose. I lost. But a man
can always try again. I guess
I’ll muster up some cash and
buy me a set of traps. There’s
a piece of country away up on
the bench by Thirty-four
Pass. By Gosh, we ain’t had
time to take in this sight for
quite a spell.”
(TO BE CONTINUED)
The Slacker’s Diary
Prom Rotary Punch.
First class excuses for not doing
business—Arranged chronologically
for Ready reference:
January: “Can’t do any business
this month; everybody is taking
stock11
February: “Very short month. See
me next month."
March: “They say that after
Easter they’ll be ready to talk busl
April: “Too much rain has put a
damper on business.”
May: “Not ready yet. Will do
something next trip.”
June: “The man with the say
was out of town at a trade confer
ence.”
July: “Won’t do anything on our
proposition until next summer.”
August: “Everybody’s away on
holiday.”
September: "Prospects are wait
ing to see how autumn business is.
October: “Can’t do anything now
until after the election.”
November: “Too busy with Christ
mas orders: told me to see him after
the holidays.”
December: “See us after Christ
mas.”
.--4+
Needless Punishment.
From Dorfbarbier, Berlin.
“Come, Freddie, and kiss your
aunt.”
"Why, ma. I ain’t done nuthin’.”
action; and in suppression lies or
dinarily the greatest peril.”
The words of Mr. Justice Bran
dels, dissenting, will live when those
of his colleagues, whose opinions
usually prevail, are forgotten.
His retirement from the supreme
court would be a national calamity.
The End.
From Pele Meld, Paris.
“I have a little attachment here
for your radio set.”
"Thanks, Smith. Let’s have a look
at it.”
“Well. It's just a rope and a brick,
and the river’s the second turn on
th* i«rt.
THE DESERT MOON
MYSTERY
BY KAY CLEAVER STRAHAN
I am sure that her fear for
John, on the fourth of July,
was real enough. She knew
;hat each minute he was away,
onger than the time necessary
for the trip, was a minute lost
from the perfect alibi she had
10 mistakenly tried to arrange
for him by sending him away
from the ranch. She had not
known that Danny’s fingers
had closed on the stair’s tread.
When John came in the back
way she was afraid that it
would be remembered later—
as it was—and that someone
would suspect—as Hubert
Hand did suspect—that John
had carried the body in at that
time.
She had counted on her note
to Danny, and on the fact
that, as Danny, she was down
stairs within ten or twelve
minutes after the time we had
seen Gaby walking down the
path and had heard Danny’s
voice calling after her, to
prove her own innocence.
They, and the gentleness of
Danny’s disposition, did this
to perfection.
Her original plan had been
to prove that Sam was the
murderer. With Sam out of
the way, and with John in
possession of his fortune, she
had thought, I suppose, that
she would have no trouble in
persuading John to leave the
Desert Moon. But she was
afraid of the idea. Knowing
John’s devotion to Sam, she
could not reckon, with any
sureness, how disgrace and
sorrow might affect John. It
was too big a risk to take, un
reservedly. So though she
picked the quarrel with Sam,
strewed the pipe ashes on the
' bag, put the key in the fire
place, wrote on the photo
graph, she left loopholes in the
shapes of the many other false
clues. It is only my own notion
that, if she had not thought
the definite accusation of Sam,
which she had made during
the session on the fifth of
July, was necessary to protect
John, she would have backed
out, by that time, and not
have made it.
It is again only my notion
that the request, which she
put in her note to Danny, to
have Danny take her body to
San Francisco for cremation,
was made because she thought
that it would be desirable for
her to be able to leave the
ranch at once—perhaps for
several weeks. Mrs. Ricker’s
expressed suspicion probably
made her realize the wisdom
of returning as rapidly as
possible to the Desert Moon.
Gabrielle Canneziano was a
born criminal. Almost all of
her life had been spent among
criminals. She knew their
ways, and she knew the ways
of honest people toward them.
Consequently, she was too
clever to drop her disguise,
even for a minute, in San
Francisco. When, on the after
noon of the fourth of July, she
had come downstairs as Dan
ny, she had come resolved
from that time forth to be
Danny, in thought and in
deed, up to the level best of
her ability. That she never
doubted her ability to turn
from black to white within
the space of an hour, is a
splendid example of Miss Mac
Donald’s contention concern
ing the egotism of criminals.
Miss MacDonald says that
her first real clue was the one
I gave to her when I said that
no one, except Gaby herself,
who would do such a wicked
thing, had ever been on the
ranch. If she had been on the
ranch, she might have com
mitted the murder. She had
all three of the primary mo
tives for the murder: love, re
venge, and greed. The unique
feature in this case—Miss
MacDonald says that each
case has its unique feature—
was that the murdered girl
had been a duplicate twin.
The hazy, incomplete notion,
Justice Brandeis.
Not until there Is a possibility of
losing him do we realize what Jus
tice Brandeis means in the public
life of America.
It has been suggested that Jus
tice Brandeis might retire from the
United States supreme court to
head the world Zionist movement.
Within the last few days, also, there
has been published a compilation of
the social and economic views of
this wise and far-seeing person
which emphasizes the great part he
has played in the thought and de
velopment of the nation.
• Perhaos no man has more unfal
J7
i Miss MacDonald says, had just
come into her mind; she had
not begun to accept it, she was
only allowing it, dimly, to take
form, when I returned to the
room that day with my hand
full of letters written by Dan
ny. Handwriting, as surely as
fingerprints, Miss MacDonald
says, proves identity.
She asked me, straight,
whether I had seen Danny
writing the checks and addres
sing the envelopes. I answered,
straight and positively, that I
had. (And not twenty minutes
before that Miss MacDonald
had warned me that people
often thought that they saw
things they did not see.)
I had not. I had seen the
person whom I supposed was
Danny writing checks and ad
dressing envelopes. I had
turned my back on her, and
had walked to the door, when
| she called me and gave me
i the envelopes containing the
checks.
Danny herself had written
those checks and had ad
! dressed those envelopes on the
third of July. Owing to all the
furore that had been going on
in the house that day, she had
left her desk befofe she had
torn the checks from her
check-book, and had never
gone back to it to finish her
task. It is possible that Ga
brielle had deliberately ar
ranged that, also; but I think
not. At any rate, she had had
the checks in her possession,
and had waited for a date
that had a three, or an eight
I in it, to produce them. Cir
cumstances and I played well
into her hands that day; she
had only to insert a one in
front of the three to make me j
her fool.
Miss MacDonald, as you
[ have seen, blames herself and
not me for the mistake. She
1 says that she should have
| known better than to believe
me; or, to quote her exactly,
; she should have “doubted
your accuracy of observation.”
Blit, not until the morning
that we found Daniel Canne
•ziano murdered did it occur
to her to doubt it.
She says that it was not
clairvoyance, not intuition,
not even common sense, that
it was nothing but a memory
that took her, that morning,
straight back to the idea that
Gabrielle Canneziano could be
the guilty person. Oddly, the
conviction had come to her
before we found Canneziano’s
body.
Sitting across the table from
Gabrielle, posing as Danny,
that morning at breakfast, she
had thought, idly, of the
breakfast that she and Dan
ny had had together in the
dining-car. She had taken her
chair, that morning, just as
Danny had handed the order
slip for her breakfast to the
waiter. Too vaguely to be
certain that it was really a
memory, she seemed to see
that slip of paper covered
with writing, just then, with
the aroma of coffee in her
nostrils, and with her iced
grapefruit and rolls in front
of her, she remembered that
it wras the same breakfast
both she and Danny had had
that morning. Would such a
small order cover an order
slip with handwriting? Not, it
was certain, with the neat
handwriting that had made
out those checks and adressed
those envelopes. Right then
she resolved to lose no more
time; to get, as soon as possi
ble, a sample of the hand
writing of the girl across the
table from her.
Canneziano's murder, dis
covered in the next half hour,
strengthened her vague sus
picions into as much of a cer
tainty as she ever allowed her
self before she had positive
evidence.
(TO B> CONTINUED)
| teringly expressed and interpreted
the best ideals of America over a
long period of years. These ideals
were his ruling principle of life be
fore he mounted the bench, when
I his time was spent fighting un
wholesome social conditions. As a
I member of the supreme court, his
i allegiances have never changed.
His notable legal learning and
wide economic knowledge are shown
in the thirty most important judi
cial opinion's included in the new
book. Twenty-six of these are dis
sents.
i Thev show him fighting to pro
OF INTEREST TO FARMERS
TREATING THIN LAMBS
Many thin lambs arriving at our
markets, indicate that quite a per
centage of them are infested with
internal parasites. By treating them
for stomach worms, these lambs
can be marketed in much better
condition, making it possible to save
i $2 or $3 per hundred weight. Lambs
infested with the common stomach
worm are thin and lack thriftiness;
further symptoms of stomach worms
are pale, papery-like skins, constant
scouring with thinness, and, in ad
vanced cases, swelling under the low
er jaw, commonly referred to as
bottle neck. Lambs and older sheep
so infested may be treated with
copper sulphate (bluestone); if they
give indication of being badly in
fested, the treatment should be re
peated every 30 days during the
pasture season. The solution is
made by dissolving one-fourth of a
pound of clear blue crystals of cop
per sulphate in one gallon of warm
water, and then adding enough cold
water to make three gallons. Enamel
or earthenware containers should
be used, as copper sulphate corrodes
tin or galvanized utensils. Sheep to
be treated should be penned up for
15 or 20 hours, allowing them water
only. It is best to confine sheep the
afternoon before treating, so dosing
may be started in the morning.
Doses advised are one ounce for
lambs three months of age; two
ounces for older lambs, or three to
three and one half ounces for year
lings or older sheep. For the actual
dosing, a small pop bottle with a
rather long neck may be used, al
though the common syringe of two
or three ounces capacity is more
convenient. In dosing, care should
be taken not to raise the sheep’s
head much higher than the normal
carriage, as the solution may enter
the windpipe and cause pneumonia.
If sheep struggle, refrain from dos
ing until they have settled down
again. After dosing, keep sheep off
feed and water for about four hours,
permitting them to rest before driv
ing to pasture. Copper sulphate is
a poison, and extreme exertion after
dosing may mean death to sheep.
However, no losses need occur if dos
ing is properly done.
CULLING THE LOAFERS
How about your flock of poultry?
Do you know which ones are good
pay and which ones eat and eat
and eat but never lay? To make
this discussion as practical as pos
sible, let us consider how we can
tell the poor layers or, better yet,
how we can have flocks that consist
largely of good layers. As the lat
ter situation is preferable, we may
say that high producing flocks are
the result of careful selection and
breeding. Purchase of baby
chicks or breeding stock of high
producing ancestry will be the best
insurance against unprofitable indi
viduals, When we have bred-to-lay
slock as a foundation, the percent
age of loafers will be spialler and
there is less culling to be done. The 1
average flock production will be
higher and statistics from farm
surveys in several states as well as
experimental evidence have shown
plainly that poultry profits are di
rectly related to production. A
flock average of 150 eggs is quite
.satisfactory, although many flocks
average 180 eggs or more. Even in
the best flocks, profits may be in
creased by eliminating the poorest
birds. In flocks of average produc
tion. prompt culling of .the loafers is
a vital necessity. How can the un
profitable birds be detected? For
tunately there are several indica
tions of production which can be
used at this season of the year to
distinguish the poor layers from
the high producers. These are:
Molting of plumage, color and con
dition of comb and wattles, and the
presence or absence of yellow pig
ment in beak and shanks. The an
nual shedding or renewing of the
feathers is known as the molt. The
wild birds of forest and stream shed
their plumage every year as do the
fowls domesticated by man. Why
this is done is not known to us, but
we do know that the low producing
hen stops laying in June, July and
August, and begins to drop her
feathers, while the best layers con
tine to produce through September,
October and November. Poor layers
drop their feathers slowly, grow
them in slowly, and lay no eggs dur
ing the molting period. The late
molters drop their feathers very
rapidly, take a short rest when re
placing body and wing feathers, and
then begin to produce again. Their
plumage shows wear and tear from
constant visits to the nest and usu
ally are quite soiled. The early
molters will be looking quite natty
in new coats of feathers but they
are likely to be out of production
for from three to six months. Hens
laying in August will have large,
bright red, glossy combs while in
hens that have stopped laying, the
comb and wattles are shrunken,
dull, dry and scaly. Increased cir
culation of blood causes the en
largement of the head appendages
when the egg-producing organs are
active. As production slows down
the comb and wattles gradually lose
their lustre and smoothness, also
becoming somewhat reduced in size.
At the end of the laying season they
appear limp and wilted and when
production stops entirely the comb
and wattles to shrink quickly. So
striking is the contrast in appear
ance of comb and wattles in and out
of production that it is not diffi
cult to detect the loafers in the
house or yard without handling
them at all. There is another
change in a hen's appearance due
to egg production that may be eas
ily read and is a valuable index to
past performance. This test can be
applied to all yellow skinned vari
eties such as the White Leghorn,
Barred Rock. Rhode Island Red.
and White Wyandotte. When a
pullet starts to lay she will have
stored up in her body a supply of
yellow pigment. This can be seen
in the eye ring, the ear lobe, the
beak and the shanks. This yellow
color comes chiefly from yellow
DON’T CROWD HENS
Good housing is very important
for poultry, which means tight
houses to prevent drafts, sufficient
insulation to keep the temperature
comfortable and prevent frost on
walls or ceiling, sufficient ventila
tion to take out the moisture and
keep the litter dry, floors and fit
tings which can be kept clean and
free from vermin, and as much sun
shine as possible. Good housing
likewise should allow ample space
for each bird. There should be about
four square feet of floor space for
each mature fowl, and poultry spe
cialists recommend about one foot
of feeding space for every five hems,
and one nest for every four to six
corn and green feed. When pro
duction starts the supply of yelloi
pigment is cut off from the beak
and shanks and is dn'erted to th*
egg organs for deposition in th«
egg yolk. Since no more yellow col
or will reach the skin while th*
hen as laying, that already present
begins to disappear so that bleach
ing of the skin coincides with pro
duction. It takes only a few days of
lading to bleach out the eye ring
and ear lobe and about two month*
for the yellow color to fade from
the beak. The bleaching of th«
shanks is of piore importance be
cause of the length of time required.
Prom four to six months’ produc
tion are usually required to com
pletely bleach the shanks. The rear
of the shanks just above the hock
joint is the last section of the shank
to lose its color. Briefly, the loaf
ing hens have all the marks of
identification that you need to con
vict them of vagrancy about your
premises. Why not hold farm
court by appointing yourself both
detective and judge and cull out
these undesirables?
FATTENING ROASTERS
A milk-fattened chicken in the
roaster and a steady poultry cus
tomer is easily won. The farm fam
ily, too, should enjoy the best dish
the farm can produce. Ten to 14
days fattening makes a great dif
ference in the rooster that furnishes
holiday and Sunday dinners. There
is nothing mysterious about produc
ing the moist, soft, white meat that
the consumer is anxious to buy, or
that your own family is ready to
enjoy. The proper ration, a iittle
equipment, and a careful feeder is
all that is needed. A good ration
may be made up of 50 pounds finely
ground corn meal, 20 pounds wheat
middlings, and 10 pounds of finely
ground, heavy oats. This grain
mixture should be mixed fresh at
each feeding with skimmilk or but
termilk in the proportion of one
pound of grain to two pounds milk
and fed three times a day. Before
attempting to feed this mixture,
however, it will be best to starve
the birds for about 24 hours. This
makes them greedily eat the new
ration. Care should be taken to un
derfeed rather than overfeed for
the first three days. Thereafter,
they may be given all that is
cleaned up in 20 minutes. Plenty of
sharp grit should be provided. Con
finement is necessary in order to
soften the muscular tissue. The fact
that they must be confined leads
to the caution that only strong,
healthy, vigorous birds should be
selected. Pen confinement works
satisfactorily where the birds are
limited to about two square feet of
floor space. Best results are ob
tained, how'ever, by crat? fattening.
For this purpose an ordinary ship
ping crate 30x24x24 may be used if
one side and the bottom are re
placed by slats or lath. Care should
be taken that the building where
the crates are housed be well ven
tilated, free from draughts, and
above freezing. Strict sanitation
measures are essential and the care
ful feeder watches his birds to take
out any individual that is not doing
well.
TURKEYS FOR LATE MARKETS
A large number of turkeys do not
reach lull growth in time for the
Thanksgiving market and in order
to secure the greatest return pos
sible should be held over and fat
tened for a later market. Fattening
should add 2 to 3 pounds of weight
at a cost of about 14 to 15 cents a
pound. At the Newland Irrigation
project it was found that 514
pounds of grain were required to
make one pound of gain in fatten
ing. In estimating fattening expens
es it must be borne in mind that
not only will additional weight be
added but that a premimu of 5 to
20 cents a pound is paid for well
finished turkeys. It is not good bus
iness, therefore, to sell unfinished
turkeys during the holidays. During
the last two years thousands of un
finished birds thrown on the mar
ket demoralized prices. Turkeys, to
be properly fattened, must have
reached full growth or nearly so.
Otherwise feed designed for in
creased weight and conditioning
will be utilized for further growth.
Fattening should start about two
weeks before the fowls are to be
marketed. If the weather is cool
better results will be secured. Re
strict the exercise as much as pos
sible without interfering with the
health of the birds. Best results will
be secured where corn makes up
the bulk of the ration, but where
corn is too high it is possible to fat
ten them on wheat, wheat and oats,
or wheat, oats and barley. The
Newland ration consists of corn
and wheat of equal parts, without
limit, and free access to skim milk
and green feed. If the grains are
ground for half the ration the ef
ficiency will be increased. Another
satisfactory method is to give grain
at night, equal to or more than the
quantity of mash consumed during
the dav. This scratch can consist
of equal parts of corn and wheat.
A dry, hopper-fed mash should be
made up of equal parts of ground
corn, ground wheat and ground
oats; or'equal parts of ground corn,
ground wheat and ground barley,
depending upon prices of oats and
barlev. To these grains should be
added 10 per cent meat scraps, 2
per cent bone meal, 2 per cent
ground oyster shell or limestone
and Vj per cent salt. In addition,
the turkeys should be given all the
greens they will eat. or 5 per cent
of alfalfa leaf meal in the mash. If
liquid milk is available they should
be given all they will drink, other
wise and 5 per cent of dried milk to
the mash.
SANITATION AID
Cleaning out the barn and poul
try house will be made much easier
if a suitable scraper is available.
Such a bool should be designed so
that the blade will not dig into the
floor. It should be of sturdy con
struction and the handle should be
long enough to reach across the
dropping boards. If one edge is
curved, it will help to lossen hard
and gummy substances.
hens. Two water pails of 10 or 12
quarts capacity are needed for every
100 hens. Each hen should have
from six to eight inches of space on
the perches. Place the rear perch
nine inches from the wall and the
others one foot apart and from six
to eight inches above the dropping
boards. The dropping boards should
be about three feet above the floor
and should extend seven or eight
inches beyond the last perch. If
lights are used, 40-watt lights, with
reflectors, six feet above the floor
and 10 feet apart, are recommended.
One light for every 200 feet is suf
ficient.