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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (July 9, 1931)
CHAFFEE ROARING HORSE BY ERNEST HAYCOX He was again full of vital M&eigy. The country of his aihoice lay stretched into the misty horizons, swelling like fhe surface of a placid ocean. It was sage and sand arroyo jluc butte—the same as the iand to the other side of the Emnge; yet somehow it was a t*lrer Land here and he felt freer in it. The peaks were heavy with snow, the bench was lightly overlaid; down In thf flat country no snow hati m far touched the earth, though the air was shot with the warning of it and the sun was dim above unusual clouds. Se he traveled leisurely, tim tog himself against the hour when he was to meet the ex Stirrup S men at the old tiu&rters. And around twilight mi this short day he surmount ed a knoll to confront the fa miliar, heart-quickening sight mi hlr, old homestead. The •otton woods marched against the deepening blue, the creek hank was heavy with shadows. And the house sat serenely in the shelter. /> But only for a moment did he feel the pleasure of revisit ing . The next moment he was wistfully sad and regretful. A light glimmered out of the eabiu windows. Somebody else enjoyed the comfort of the atructure he had created with mo much sweat and pride and hope for the future. He reined to only for a moment, absorb ing the picture. Then he spoke %uletly to the horse and cir *led away for Stirrup S. “Things change.” he mur mured. “That’s life, I reckon. And if a man doesn’t move with the times the ground is cut from under his feet. I must he getting old. Seems like I'm always harpin’ back to what used to be. Well, it’s hard for a fellow to bury a piece of his Me In one spot of the earth «nd then go away and forget. I’ll never find another place ■Hko n. *• Twilight was absorbed into itarkness. A sickle moon cast m blurred reflection above the •loads, the stars were hidden. JLnd in the desert quietness lie became aware that some cue followed him. Nothing of •ight nor of sound came for ward to tell him this; it was vather one of those impalpable warnings carrying across the alt to vaguely impinge on his nerves. Some men are given the faculty of feeling such things; some men are not. It Is almost an instinct and com parable to that sense in birds which turns them south and north on the approach of the seasons. Jim Chaffee had felt such warnings before. When lie obeyed them he profited; when he tried to reason out the strange fact of their ex istence he invariably went wrong. He traveled onward, snaking certain of the warn ing. Presently he shifted his •curse to right angles and fell Santo a gully, waiting. "Four live hours would give them time to get on my trail,” he said to Lumself. "But how would they know where to look? Maybe they figure an •id dog always strays home.” signals rose behind. Far off s coyote lifted its bark and wail to the profound mystery •f the universe. Somewhere was a like reply, and that was •1L Chaffee tarried fifteen sr'nutes and then went on. Perhaps his senses played him false. Eoth uncertain and rest less he pressed the horse to a tester pace. He passed a aolitary pi r e and a hedgellke -'Slump of juniper bushes; he •truck a beaten trail and then the outline of all that had been the Stirrup S home ranch iay dark and obscure in front •f him. He stopped, oppressed by the 39 tenancy of those chilly sha I dows. Once Stirrup S had been crowded with life; a light had glimmered from the big house; melody and warmth had dwelt in the crew's quarters. Fine men had walked the yard, proud of all that Stirrup S meant—its vast range, its wide-flung herds. A domain it had been, a little empire apart, a haven and refuge, a sturay piece of the historic West. Now it was but a cheer I less relic of brave dreams gone to defeat. Out beyond in the still heavier shadows Dad M^t terlee lay asleep. Miz Sai^vr lee was gone, the crew scat tered; never again would -he corrals echo to the s;„*je shouts, the same epithets, ;».e same ribald jeering. This hj*d been his home; and tne thought of it renewed tp^ feeling of homesickness -at him. “Times change. I guess h* ain’t got any right to stick fa the old, familiar tilings. But goes hard -it goes hard.’’ His old-time partners wei^ not yet on hand, otherwise > light would be burning. Drop ping from the saddle, he Ivy the horse nearer a corral am left it. Walking alongside th.i bars of the corral he was moo. distinctly assailed by the sen 1 sation that others were abroad in the night, behind him oc about him. The farther he is sued into the yard the more strongly did the belief become until at last he halted, draw ing his muscles together and dropping his gun arm. He stood betw "n the crew’s quar ters and the big house, facing westward toward the gaunt outline of the barn. He had not been aware of a wind be fore, yet there appeared to be a rustling and a whispering ana a sort aorasion oi sounas running here and there. It seemed to him to grow louder around the crew’s quarters; it seemed to him shadows were shifting. He stepped sidewise, closing upon the porch of the big house, at the same time watching the other direction with flaring eyes. Was it the Stirrup S bunch, waiting for him and yet wish ing to keep under cover for fear of the forces leagued against them? Supposing his friends were over there? Did they figure it was his play and not theirs? Well, maybe it was. He debated, more and more sure of company in the yard. At that point he heard the j first definite breaking of I silence—a boot dragging along ■ a board, a subdued murmur. All th's by the crew’s quar ters. "ithing came from the big house. He got to the steps of the house porch and made his decision; he drew a breath, lifted his gun from the holster, and sent a challenge running softly across the yard. “Who’s that?” It were as if he had opened ! the door to bedlam. A staccato ; roar rent the silence and the blackness. Flames mush points; bullets smashed along | roomed at widely divergent 1 points; bullets smashed along the porch and spat at his very feet. And above this he heard i the booming, sledging voice of Theodorik Perrine sum moning up the attack. “Now we got him! Snap into it! Lay lead over there—lay lead over there!’ ’ He leaped up the steps and over the porch. The door was closed; he flung it open, slid inside, and slammed it shut. The next moment he had jumped away and down to a window. The door seemed about to beaten off its hinges by the impact of bullets. They came onward, Perrine’s mighty, sounding wrath liwe the break of rollers on abeach. They were up to the porch; ] iron one window r:e saw tneir shadowed forms weaving this waj and that way, and he oi ned on iem With a brace of .'.hots that scattered the | gang and flattened them down against the porch boards. But only for the moment. He could not stop t cm; he could not keep them from coming through—either by the front or the back. What he r^uld tie i was play a game of hide-away Another shot humbled them for a few moments. I*, those moments he slipped up the stairs. On the landing he heard the front door give and go down. Only Perrineh strength could have smashed it so suddenly and completely; and they were inside, rovin: here and there with a singula, recklessness until the giar. that led them boomed again “You go outside, Clipper: Watch! Back door—for the love o’ God, watch that back door!” “Listen,” grumbled one of the men, “this ain’t no way to get him. Damn’ place is full uh holes an’ shadders. Le’s go outside and string around it. Burn the joint. Can’t miss him then.” “I want to ^et my hands on him,” muttered Perrine. “Use yore head—” 'Shut up! This is my party!” The giant had gone mad. Chaffee’s groping arm touched a table in the hallway. There was a piece of Indian pottery on it. SLizing the jar, he bent over the banister and dropped it down. The smash of it on the lower floor woke their : res s guns. Smoke swirled upward;*hot profanity beat along the darkness. I ney were falling flat, overturning chairs and tables for protection. “That corner “Chaffee- yore dead now!” Chaffee went on down the ! upper hall a-tiptoe. A window • opened to the roof of the back porch, and he hoped to let pimself down quietly and jircle around to his horse. But in treading the hall his boots iTruck a loose board. It sent <jut a sharp protest, and as he reached the window there seemed to be a general break up of Perrine’s party. The renegades broke in all direc tions, boots drumming the lower flooring, sounding out of the doors. He debated, try ing to catch the meaning of the move. Then he heard a brace of shots cracking from the general direction of the barn. Hard after, Perrine went a-bellowing across the yard. “He’s wiggled clear! He’s monkeyin’ with our hosses! Clipper—Clipper, where in the name o’ Judas are yuh Nev, mind upstairs—that’s just a sound!” The rest of his vast fury rolled out unprint able and blasphemous. Chaf fee shook his head, not under standing. He drew the catches of the window and raised it, noise lost in the general racket going on below. He shoved himself through and worked to the edge of the porch roof. Back here was quietness; out front the guns were playing. Looking to the ground from his elevation was like staring into some black pool of water. “Maybe It’s another neat little device of Mr. Perrine’s,” he said to himself. “He’s crazy as a louse on a hot brick. But I can’t be speculatin’ all night. Here’s a break. Better take it. Now, if they’s a man waitin’—” He dropped and hit the ground on all fours, feeling the impact stabbing his still insecure ankle. So far so good. No gun met him, nobody came catapulting out of the sur rounding shadows. He rose and galloped away from the house, hearing the thundering voice of Theodorik Perrine rise and fall from one raging epi thet to another. He skirted a shed, reached the corral, and hurried around it. His horse still stood, though restless and circling the reins. Chaffee never gave it a thought; he sprang up and turned the pony. A voice came sibilantly from somewhere. “Jim.” “Who’s that?” ] "M:.rK—Mark Engie.” Iion>t ana rider closed in, came be side Jim, The Indian’s arm dropped un Chaffee’s slioui der. “I am your friend." “How in the name of—” “Let’s ride out first." The pair spurred off, th drum ol their ponies bring ing Perrine’s gang down th yard on the jump. But pres cntly they had become onli murmuring figures in thi distance. The reports of the shooting were domped. “Bettei swing,” said Chaffee. “They’l be on our heels pretty quick.’ “Now, listen, Mark, how die you bust into this?” “This afternoon I saw you going north. T was hidden ir a gully. I have led a soltary life recently, Jim. I have come near nobody. But I saw you and I followed. I know many things—too many things. But I was by the corral when Per rine’s outfit opened up. The rest was not hard I am glad to see you back.” “That goes double.” mut tered Chaffee. “I owe you somethin’, Mark. Blamed if I don’t. Well—let’s swing around i anyhow. I sent word ahead I for the old outfit to meet me . back there. It’s plain they won’t, so we’ll try Linderman which Is the alternate rer dezvous.” “They will not be at Linder man’s,” said Mark Eagle, never altering his tones a whit. “They wore at Melotte’s a little before sundown—part of them. Others are scattered.” “How do you know, Mark? You were on my trail around then. ” ‘I saw Meiottes irom a distance at four o’clock. He is building a bam and they arc working on it. I saw them." “They'd still have time to reach Linderman’s,” insisted Chaffee. “And they wouldn’t turn me down. I told Red Cor coran in Bannock City ten days ago to round ’em up.” “Red Corcoran,” said Mark softly, “never reached Me lotte’s, Jim. He is dead—killed eight days ago—up in the bench behind Cherry’s horse ranch. I found him, with a bullet in his heart. And I saw a big boot track near by, as big a boot track as you found back of the livery stable.” “Dead!” cried Chaffee, struck clean through by the news. “Red? Why—Perrine killed him?” He sat a long time, staring up to the hidden stars, sad and outraged and remembering the sturdy, reck less courage of the man. “Another fine friend gone. Why was it Jeff Ganashayd didn’t mention that when I saw him to-day?” “Nobody know’s but me— and Perrine. It is way back on the bench, Jim. The story was on the ground. Corcoran coming from the low pass— coming from you. And Perrine ran into him. Wasn’t it a good chance for Perrine to settle a grudge? I buried Red.” Chaffee’s hand rose and fell. “Mark, I wish you’d help me. I wish you’d round up the boys and have them meet me somewhere.” “I will. And the time has come to tell you something else. Light a match.” (TO Hi CONTINUED) Judicious Lending. From Guaranty Trust Co. Bulletin Regarding the relationship be tween foreign loans and the inter national movement of goods, opinions in this country vary. Some maintain that the high level of American exports since the war was possible only because we have been 1 lending foreign countries the funds I with which to purchase our goods and tli.it eventually we must accept i an import merchandise surplus if our international transactions are to be buluaced without the con , tinuous process of extending credit i abroad. Whichever of these pos ! sibilitirs occurs, the fact remains that most of our excess capital 1 loaned abroad has been invested in foreign industries, permitting them to expand and to bring a greater degree of prosperity to those coun tries. Prosperous customers are by no means a setback to American busi ness. As long as there is ample credit in this country to finance domestic industries, the Judicious exposing of American capital is wholly a desirable thing; for in reality it merely means that Ameri can invr tors are security holders in foreinn business enterprises and enjoy the expenditure, mostly in this country, of the return that these , loans bring them. 1*AS D IN FULL El Paso -Harry Brassen is an Rawest fellow. The other day he jawL- Ja box csr ride out of town, fceccntfy The railroad officials of line on which he copped the {rre ride received a letter from him. bless your railroad,” the let m? rpacl. “PletSe accept these enclosed 40 cents worth! ^ rt»y repentance for jkdua* yoiN: _ AgtuJnn* Looks Up. yrom the Dallas News. Th® drought d^alt Aikansas a blow. BrjsJtett_«taa« 100 days make even hope itself a mock ing: desert. But the rains have come and the seedtime also had already the harvest is in process, as to some things at least. Arkansas has enough to eat and to spare once more. Fearing lest the country draw the conclusion that Arkansas is the land that God forsook, Earl Page, com missioner of agriculture for the state, sends out a statement of im proved conditions found by him cn the farms of Arkansas. It is some thing of a tribute to American gen erosity and Arkansas grit. For the farmers or hills and lowlands who were in dire distress Last year are | this year calmly cultivating a crop which will make them safe from want. Farmers elsewhere will trouble about the low price of their prod ucts. But in Arkansas they are mak ing certain that they produce the things that they themselves need. There are no live-at-home sermons In Arkansas now. The merciless sun i and niggardly clouds preached it last year and Arkansas has not for gotten. Arkansas will live at home ' this summer and fall, yes, and this winter, too. Grimly and without j wordiness of any sort, Arkansas | fanners are doing all they know ' how to do in order to make sure of that. NO ZOO FOR HIM Peris—A six-foot orang-outrang escaped from the Paris zoo and took up his abide in an apartment house. He announced liis presence by sitting heavily on the keys by the piano. The noise disturbed him and he grabbed several pictures off th'» wail and hurled them around the room. Then he sat down until his keeper esme. All the choice tid bits the keeper had to offer couldn't induce the animal to quit the house. OF INTEREST TO FARMERS - ,, - -- — -- - _ _ _ BABY TURKEYS Li ttle turkeys fall victims to many diseases. It is hard to doc or them successfully, so it is nec essary to rely on preventive meas ures almost entirely. One of the most important is the raising of the young turkeys absolutely separate from chickens. It is often wise to raise them away from the main flock of grown turkeys, on clean, well-drained ground. It is extreme ly dangerous to brood baby turkeys with chicken hens, and all turkey hens used should be wcrmed ano deloused before the brooding pe riod starts. Each turkey mother should have a small rain-prcof coop at least four feet square. This will take care of the brood without crowding as they grow older. These coops can be made with shed roof, 30 inches high at the rear and 48 inches in front. The front should be almost entirely open, but cov ered with hardware cloth not larger than ’j-inch mesh. Earth enware drinking fountains should be provided, especially if milk is fed,, as they are very easily cleaned. It is never wise to mix baby tur keys of more than one week’s dif ference in age until they are 10 weeks old, after which they can range freely under the watchful care of the mother. One turkey can easily care for 30 to 40 babies. Keep the brooding coop closed un til all dew in off the grass in the morning, and keep the young tur keys shut up on cold, rainy days. The mother turkey should never be allowed to range until the young sters are at least a week old. The little turkeys can be given a small grass yard, which should be changed every four or five days. As soon as the young turkeys are a week old the hen may be given a chance to range with them dur ing the warm, dry parts of the day, but should never be allowed to eat or run wun me cnicxen hock, it is well to allow the young turkeys to be slightly hungry most of the day. Do not give them any solid feed during the first two days, but allow7 them access to fresh drinking water or clean milk. They should be given coarse sand or grit and some green feed, such as finely chopped onion tops, lettuce or green alfalfa. Be sure the green stuff is tender and clean, and put in narrow troughs into which the young turkeys cannot climb. Milk Is a wonderful feed for turkeys cf any age. Be sure it is fed in earth enware or wooden vessesl, is rea sonably fresh and that the vessels are cleaned each day. Many farm women who begin feeding their turkeys on crumbled, hard-boiled eggs, including the shell, mixed with finely chopDed tender green feed have remarkable success. A regular chick starter, mixed with milk or water to a crumbly state, and one hard-boiled egg and green feed added for each three dozen baby turkeys give fine results. All ieed should be absolutely fresh and led in narrow troughs. After the Hd turkey is ranging with the toung turkeys, a creep six feet tquare will prevent the hen from gating with the youngsters. When «hc birds are two or three weeks I’d a mash of yellow corn meal and ground wheat'or grain sorghum can be fed if they get all the milk they can drink. It is a good plan to feed them only enough to keep them busy 10 minutes, then remove the fefd toughs and give them a fresh feed the liext feeding. We can begin by feeding five times a day, decrease it to two or three times before the youngsters are three weeks old, at which period they should be fed only twice. Those who do not have milk and wish to make their own mash will find the follow ing very satisfactory: 50 pounds yel low corn meal, 15 pounds shorts or ground wheat. 20 pounds dried but termi’k, 4 pounds bone meal, 5 pounds oyster shell. 5 pounds al falfa leaf meal. 1 pound salt. Feed the young turkeys all they will clean up. FEEDING BABY CHICKS Of the many systems that might be mentioned for successful raising of baby chicks, the most simple is probably after all the best. Skim milk should be an important source of protein on the dairy farm. Pro tein requirements are very exacting in chick raising, for body tissue, blood, muscle, and feathers are all compounded from the proteins pro vided in the feeds. Home-grown grains are also an important source of nutrients in baby chick feeding. There grains provide carbonhvdrates chiefly, and their contribution to nutrition is to supply fuel for heat, energy, and body fat. Yellow corn, especially, provides the vitamin A needed for growth. Green feeds and rod liver oil supply amounts of vita min D to prevent leg weakness. They also add their contribution to the mineral supply needs furnished to a considerable extent through oyster shell meal In the mash. Skim milk may be given to the chicks as soon as they ate placed in the brooder house. Glass or earthen ware containers are to be preferred *o galvanized metal ones. Water, fresh and with the chill removed, -hculd be provided in fountains, one lor each hundred chicks. A little sand or chick size grit may Ire sup plied just before the first mash feeding. There are s-veral good commercial chick mashes properly br lanced for maximum growth. The fact that the-e are thoroughly mixed is a factor to consider in feeding animals that cor ume such small quantities in a ti.v. Each mouthful that a chick takes should contain the proportion of nutrients needed for health and growth. A suitable mash mixture may be made up of the following: 20 lbs. corn (ground fine*. 20 lbs. wheat bran. 20 lbs. flour middlings, 20 lbs. heavy SYSTEMATIC CULLING June is the time whsa the laying flock begins to fall off in produc tion due principally to the fsct that individual hens cease to produce, start an early molt and become boarders or culls, usually contin uing in that condition throughout the summer. The problem is to weed these birds out of the flock as soon as they cease producing and dispose of them immediately for meat. They will usually be found to be in good flesh and well pig mented, and excellent poultry for market. Every two weeks Is none too often to go through the flock, usually at night when the bird* oats (ground), 10 lbs. meat scrap (45 to 55 per cent protein), 2 lbs. oyster shell meal, 2 lbs. cod liver oil (tested', 1 lb. salt. Where skim milk Is not available for baby chicks, 5 lbs. dried skimmilk or but termilk should be added to th* I rbove mixture. Ground yellow corn or commercial chick grains may bo fed morning and night In pans or hoppers until the chicks will con sume cracked corn and wheat. Then they may be fed from a mixture of 200 lbs. cracked corn and 100 lbs, whole wheat. The first eight weeks, the chicks should consume about twice as much mash as grain. Grad ually this ratio may then ue changed to equal parts mash and grain. The feeding of scratch grains in the litter for exercise has been greatly overemphasized. The con tain.nation from droppings picked up with scratch grains overbalances the bit of exercise that is not en couraged when troughs or hoppers are used exclusively. In baby cnick raising, as well as feeding the lay ing flock, the use of hoppers for grain feeding ij a recommended prrctice for disease control. Pro viding green feed is important. Sliced or chopped mangels, sprouted oats, and heads of cabbage and let tuce are all used with success. Fi nally, don't forget that sunlight makes a good ration do better with | chicks. The rays oi light through ordinary window glcss are largely robbed of their power to induce mineral assimilation. Get direct sunlight on the birds as soon aa possible. LESS CORN FOR IIOGS Despite low prices—at least in a relative sense—the last crop of hogs paid well for its board. Cheap grains, favorable weather and pro duction curtailment favored grow ers by enhancing profit. A short corn crop found compensation in full yields of small grains, includ ing wheat, hogs marketing these low-price products with monetary results that would have been im possible otherwise. In the esse of hogs the entire net proceeds made bank deposits, while cattle and sheep carried heavy financial bur dens in the shape of purchasc-mon ; ey loans, transportation charges , and other expenses not entailed by exclusive farm production. The elusive feeder’s margin does not concern the swine raiser, whose major concern is getting more than current market prices for grain, realizing that without conversion into pork such farm products would be worth even less. Recent developments indicate that a larg er acreage of wheat, barley and oats can be advantageously in stalled; these crops, being less ex pensive than corn are available earlier and broaden rotation. The 1930 drought demonstrated that an excessive corn acreage is both un : economic and dangerous. Much Corn Belt land has been “corned” until yields declined to the danger point, creating a fertility-restora ; ticn problem soluble only by re ! sort to small grains and legumes, j Whfat in the Corn Bejt is now rec ognized as a valuable feed crop, especially for young growing hogs. It affords the farmer two oppor tunities to utilize land, as when wheat fails a feed crop can be grown on the same soil. From now on the farmer must regard small grains as feed rather than market I crops, utilizing swine to a major extint for conversion into cash product. Reducing the corn ration will be distinctly advantageous in the important matter of porcine health, especially at the pig stage; the frame structure of the growing animal will be strengthened and a more desirable finished product, from the merchandising stand point, assured. BIG HEN EGGS Recently we examined the trap nest records of more than 2,000 hens, says a poultry expert. All eggs laid by them had been weighed and recorded. No correlation be tween the number of eggs laid and their size w'as indicated, but it was shewn that the poultryman had to select hems lor capacity to produce a large number of large eggs. To il lustrate the difference between hens, take these two. One laid in a year 248 eggs, 90 per cent of them first grade in size, and actually worth $10.20. The other laid 252 four more than the first hen—but only 16 per cent wrere firsts, .and their market value was $8.31. Many pcultrynien cannot trap-nest or weigh eggs. What can they do to grow pullets which will tend to pro duce eggs more nearly like the 510.20 hen? To accomplish this, use as breeders only hens and males which are of good size for their breed, since it is definite.}* known that larger hens tend to" lay the larger eggs. Save the eggs from the b i'ding peas, but before placing them in the incubators weigh each egg. This ^ a simple task. Mark every egg which weighs 26 ounces to the dozen or more, with the fig ure 2G. Hatch such 26 eggs in sep arate trays and mark the chicks which come from them. Reserve tin* outside right toe punch for such chicks. Choo.ee future breeders from h thus marked. We should not go below tilts 26-ounce line, because smaller-sized eggs are like.y to have been produced by liens of the smaH egg inheritance, while it is probable that the Inherent small-egg pro dccer will have laid few eggs as large as 28 ounces to the dozen. Of corn’s?, ether egg factors, color, ihapo and shell texture, must b« remembered. BUT no NOT SKIMP Da not give the sow’s nest too much litter at farrowing time. Many p.'is are destroyed by a full nest. cn the perch, and remove the culls. This reduces the flock and the feed consumed, without decreasing the i egg production. Systematic culling beginning in June and extending throughout the summer has an other big advantage. It automat ic liy leaves in the flock in the fall the persistent laying hens, which the pouinyman will hold over for • breeding purposes the following I year. Before starting the culling , operation one should become fa I miliar with those external charac ! teristics which can be used in sep ; arating the producers from the non oroduems.