Hidden Treasure Part 25

"Where did you learn to shoot, Ruth?" he demanded, looking at his damaged hat.

"Oh, I learned that long ago," she replied, pleased that at last she had won his genuine admiration. "I've two medals for shooting. My brothers are both crack shots and they taught me. I usually shoot with a rifle, however."

"That's fine shooting," said Bob. "I couldn't do nearly as well as that myself," he admitted grudgingly.

"Now, show me how to bait the hook," she said, picking up the squirrel. Bob took it and showed her how to prepare and put it on the hook.

They then went along the pond until they came to some small thorn bushes that grew on the bank. Bob showed her how to cast the bait by whirling it round and round and then let it fly out into the water.

She tried several times until she got the knack of doing it, then threw in both lines and tied them fast to the thorn bushes.

"How long'll I have to wait before I catch a turtle, Bob?" she asked, as they started for the house.

"Maybe an hour and maybe not till to-morrow morning, and maybe as long as a day or two--it just depends," he replied.

About three o'clock in the afternoon, he noticed that Ruth, who had gotten tired running the mixer, had gone to the house. A little later he saw her with Edith pa.s.sing through the barnyard in the direction of the pond.

It was perhaps a half hour later when he heard shouts in the direction of the pond and someone calling his name. He dropped his tools and rushed across the plowed field, when he saw Edith hurrying toward him as fast as she could walk over the newly-plowed ground. She was waving her hand to him, motioning him to hurry.

"What's happened to Ruth now?" he asked breathlessly, catching up to her.

"It isn't Ruth this time," she replied. "It's Duncan Wallace."

"Why, what's the matter with him?" he asked eagerly, surprised that the staid old Scotchman should have gotten into trouble.

"Well, it was this way," said Edith, between breaths, as they started in the direction of the sand pit, "when Ruth and I went down to the pond the first line we pulled out had a turtle on it, and while I held it by the tail, Ruth took a forked stick and pried the hook out of its mouth; then she thought it'd be good sport to take it down and show it to Duncan Wallace, and when she got near she held it up by the tail and showed it to him.

"'What's that you have there Mister--Miss--?'

"'A turtle, Mr. Wallace,' said Ruth, laughing over the fact that he did not know whether she was a boy or a girl.

"'Oh, a turtle, is it? Well, let me see it.' Then he took the turtle from her, Bob, and laid it on the shovel he was using to screen sand.

He held the shovel so that the turtle's head was not very far from and on a level with his face. Then, much to my disgust, he began spitting tobacco juice in the turtle's eyes, forcing it to draw its head into the sh.e.l.l. It didn't seem to like it very much, for all of a sudden it reached out its head and grabbed Duncan Wallace by the nose, and, oh, Bob, you should have seen him dance and heard him swear; he swore something terrible," she said laughing heartily. "It was the funniest thing, Bob, I ever saw in my life--neither Ruth's ride on the cow the other day nor her experience with Jerry this morning could compare with the way that old Scotchman hopped around, waving his shovel in one hand, the turtle dangling from his nose, and swearing like a pirate."

"Well, how did you get the turtle off?" asked Bob, laughing in spite of his fears for the Scotchman's safety.

"We didn't get it off," said Edith; "that's why we got you here. Ruth tried to shake it off, but his nose bled terribly. He was sitting on a pile of sand holding on to the turtle when I left," she replied.

When they reached the pit they found that the desperate Scotchman, in his struggling to free himself from the turtle, had pulled a large piece out of the end of his nose. Ruth, after first putting her turtle in a water barrel, was doing her best to stop the flow of blood and comfort the still swearing Scotchman, whose feelings were becoming more aggravated each minute by Ruth's uproarious laughter.

"If a girl comes around here again dressed up in boy's clothes, carrying a turtle, I'll throw them both into the pond and drown them,"

he declared savagely, as he got up from the sand pile and started for his home. When he had disappeared, Bob and the two girls sat down on the sand pile and laughed until they cried.

XVII

FILLING THE INCUBATOR

Shortly after the new stock had been delivered at Brookside Farm, Bob and his aunt put the new Leghorn chickens in the old sheep shed back of the barn, and the white Plymouth Rocks in a small pen near the cider mill, so as to keep the two flocks apart. They saved all the eggs from each flock and as fast as the common hens on the farm showed a disposition to set, the eggs were supplied to them, until the incubator house was finished.

The incubator was a modern machine of five hundred egg capacity. After a conference, they decided to send to two well-known poultry farms specializing in white Leghorns and white Plymouth Rocks for additional settings of eggs, in order to have new blood for the next year. They got fifty eggs of each breed from the two breeders, making two hundred eggs in all, and took three hundred eggs from their own stock. A careful record of the different eggs was made, so they could keep the chicks separate after they were hatched.

Before the eggs arrived, the incubator was cleaned and tested.

"Won't you let me help you with the eggs, Bob?" asked Edith, as he was getting ready to place the eggs in the incubator. "I've been reading a lot in the bulletins about chickens, and I would like to help you look after them."

"I don't think it would be such a hard job, Edith," he replied, "if you understand how to regulate the heat and keep the eggs turned. Of course, it will be necessary to look after them carefully."

"I already know how to regulate the temperature, and turn and cool the eggs."

"Do you know how to test them?" asked Bob, "to tell which eggs are fertile?"

"Yes," replied Edith, "that's easily done. You can use a candle and an old shoe box by removing one end and cutting a hole a little larger than the size of a quarter in the bottom of the box, located so that when it sets over the kerosene lamp, the hole in the bottom will be opposite the flame. Of course, you'll have to cut another hole in the box, so that the heat will escape, and the eggs are tested with the large ends up. This is done so the size of the air cell may be seen, as well as the condition of the embryo."

"How do you tell when an egg is fertile?" asked Bob.

"That's easy," said Edith. "The infertile eggs, when held before the small hole when the lamp is lighted inside the box, will look perfectly clear, same as a fresh one, while the fertile ones will show a small dark spot, which is known as the embryo. Of course, you have to learn to tell whether the embryo is living or dead, but that's easy to learn."

"I think I could take care of an incubator all right," she continued.

"The first thing you do is to see if it is running steadily at the desired temperature before filling it with eggs; then you must fill the whole tray at one time and not add fresh eggs to a tray after it's once started. The eggs must be turned twice daily after the second and until the nineteenth day. The eggs must also be cooled once daily from the seventh to the nineteenth day, depending on the weather."

"Do you fix the lamps first, Edith, or turn the eggs?" asked Bob.

"Oh, you must turn the eggs before you fix the lamps," she replied, "and, of course, the machine must be cared for at regular hours, just the same as your dairy cows, and the lamp and the wick must be kept clean at all times--otherwise you would not get a uniform heat."

"When do you test the eggs?" asked Bob.

"On the seventh and fourteenth days; after the eighteenth day you must not open the machine until the chicks are hatched."

"If you'll look after the incubator for us, Edith, it'll save me a lot of time--particularly now when we want to start work on the new cow barn."

"Will you let me run it all myself, Bob?" she asked, her eyes sparkling in antic.i.p.ation.

"I don't see why you can't do it all yourself. You understand it just as well as I do; besides, I've had no actual experience myself."

They carefully filled the incubator with the eggs, making a record in a special book of the different breeds and the different breeders.

"How are you going to mark them, Bob, to tell them apart?" asked Edith.

"Oh, that's easy," said Bob. "You punch small holes between their toes and make a code of the marks, so you can tell which is which.

"You can make ever so many combinations."

"Doesn't that hurt them?" asked Edith.

"No, not if it's done when they are very young--though the hole is a very small one, it never closes up, and you can always tell, by referring to your code, the age and breed of each chick. Later, of course, when they grow up, we'll put numbered aluminum bands on their legs, but when they're small the holes are better.