Chapter 15

As soon as the silo had been filled, the apple-picking was started. They had been in a quandary to know just how to get this crop harvested, as the trees were exceptionally full of well-developed apples. Tony finally solved the problem by saying he could send to Pittsburgh and get three or four Italian boys who would be willing to work for a dollar or two a day, so they were engaged. All the apples were carefully picked by hand and assorted in sizes, using a device designed by Tony, where the apples were allowed to roll slowly down a trough. As the apples dropped through the hole in the bottom of the grading trough, they rolled down other chutes to the waiting crates.

"I think we'll sell our apples this year, Bob, by the piece instead of by the bushel," said his aunt, after inspecting the first that were picked. "They look so fine I think we can easily get four to five cents each for them if they are put in nice cartons and each apple wrapped in paper. We can put our label on them and after we have marketed them for a year or two, people will write in for their supply. I know some firms in the mountains of Virginia who are doing that now and selling all they can raise. We can keep the first and second grade apples for sale and the third for our own use and for cider making. I think perhaps the three best sellers would be the Winesaps, Black Twigs and Albemarle Pippins. They look exceptionally fine. I don't think I ever saw nicer apples than ours."

When they had the apples all gathered, they found they had 500 bushels of first and second grade apples of the three varieties and 63 bushels of the third grade. Of these latter they kept 13 bushels for their own use, and after making ten barrels of cider, they offered the rest for sale in town, where they obtained 50 cents per bushel for them.

"It will be better, Joe, to sell them off at a cheap price rather than keep them and sort them all winter. Besides, we don't want to market any but the best under the name of the farm."

"We must hurry the work, Bob, on the root cellar to take care of our apples," said his aunt.

"All right, Aunt Bettie," he replied; "it's nearly finished."

A few days after the cider-making had been completed, the new milking machine arrived. The agent for the manufacturers sent a man to show Bob how to erect it. When the machine had been completed and tried out, they tested it out that night. Bob found he could milk his ten best cows in just a half hour, or half the time it had taken before to milk by hand.

Milking by power certainly was a great idea and the cows didn't seem to object at all to the change. Bob and his aunt were sure now that they had not made any miscalculations on designing the dairy barn for a twenty-cow herd; they felt they would be able to take care of that number easily.

"Let's go hunting, Bob," said Ruth one morning at breakfast a few days later. "I'd like to shoot some real game."

"All right," said Bob, "but we've only one gun between us. You see, I don't own a gun and Uncle Joe has only one."

"Oh, that reminds me," said his uncle, "John White gave me a package yesterday to bring out for you and I was so busy I forgot and left it in the automobile last night. I guess it's still there," and he winked at Edith and Ruth across the table.

Bob got up and went to the barn and came back a few minutes later with a long package. When opened, he found, much to his delight, it contained a double-barreled hammerless shotgun. Tied to the gun was a card on which was written: "For my friend, Bob Williams, with best wishes, from John White."

"That was splendid of him to buy me a gun. I wonder why he did it," exclaimed Bob.

"Well, I guess he likes you, Bob," said his uncle, "and he feels you're helping to do a good work in the county, so he just bought it for you. It's the same gauge as mine, so you can use some of my shells, although he gave me two boxes of shells already loaded," and he handed over the shells to Bob. "And this is your belt," he said laughing, and he handed Bob a very fine belt of buff leather.

"We certainly can go hunting to-day, Ruth," said Bob, delighted with his new present, and as soon as the milking and chores were done, they set off back of the pond and through the woods, back of the "Old Round Top."

Bob had every confidence in Ruth's ability to shoot and did not fear an accident from her gun. While Ruth couldn't do many things, shooting was not one of them, for she had proven herself to be an expert shot on a number of occasions. When they reached the woods they separated and Bob went up the ravine while Ruth kept along the hillsides. They had not gone very far when a chicken hawk flew over the ravine just ahead of Bob and alighted on a tree. Here was an unexpected opportunity of making a good shot and bringing home a trophy worth while. So he took careful aim and fired, but the distance was either too great or the aim was bad, for the hawk flew away. He continued up the ravine until he came to a line fence which he followed up the hill and joined Ruth, neither one having had an opportunity of shooting at any other game.

"Too bad you missed him, Bob; he was such a fine-looking specimen."

"Did you see it, Ruth?"

"Yes, it ran alongside of me."

"What do you mean, it ran alongside of you?" asked Bob; "the last I saw of it, it was flying."

"Flying!" exclaimed Ruth. "Why it ran along the ground just like a dog and had a big red bushy tail. I was sitting on a stump taking a rest when you fired. It came sneaking up the hill toward me, all the while watching you. It came up so close I could have put my hand out and touched it. It stopped right in, front of me for a minute or two and then ran off up over the ridge."

"What are you talking about Ruth?" asked Bob. "The thing I shot at was a hawk and it flew through the air. It didn't run along the ground at all."

"Oh," said Ruth, "what I saw must have been a fox, and, Bob, it stood just in front of me for a minute or two before it turned and went away."

"If that's so why didn't you shoot it?" demanded Bob.

"I was too excited. I never thought about shooting it."

"Well, you lost an opportunity of a lifetime. You'll probably never get a chance to get a fox as easy as that again."

"Please don't tell the folks at the house, Bob, that I had the buck fever--they'd never get through teasing me if they knew I'd let such a chance go by."

They hunted all the rest of the morning, but got only three grey squirrels, of which Ruth shot two.

A few days later, as Ruth was crossing the oat stubbles, she saw a small black and white animal skipping along through the stubbles just ahead of her. Thinking it was a kitten that had strayed from the house, she rushed after it and was almost ready to pick it up when she suddenly changed her mind and started for the house as fast as she could go.

The dinner bell had rung and as Ruth came around the side of the house, her aunt and Edith, who were sitting on the porch, shouted in unison: "Go 'way! Go 'way! Go out to the barn. Where've you been?"

"I tried to pick up a kitten out in the oat stubbles," confessed Ruth.

"Well, I guess you did, all right," said her aunt. "Wait until Edith gets you some clothes and then go out to the old icehouse and change them. Leave the clothes you have on out there, because you'll never be able to wear them again."

Ruth, who had been trying hard to control her feelings, now broke into sobs, for she had only one farmerette suit and this meant the loss of it.

"It was such an innocent-looking kitten, too," she said.

"Innocent nothing," said her uncle, who came in from the barn just then. "Don't you know a skunk when you see one?"

"No, I didn't, but I will next time," confessed Ruth. Edith then appeared with the necessary garments and took them to the icehouse where she left them and where Ruth later went and made the change. That afternoon she was particularly depressed, for she had to wear a dress instead of her favorite breeches, which seemed to depress her more and more as the afternoon wore on. She gladly welcomed the appearance of Eddie Brown and Herbert Potter, who drove out to see the girls and to tell them they were about to leave to go to school.

Bob was now working on a new piggery, which he and Tony had well under way. The pens were to accommodate thirty pigs, and were built so they could be extended from time to time, as they might decide. In addition to the pen, they were constructing a large feeding floor, and now that work on the main barn had been completed, Mr. Brady was pushing the work on the new house, which was progressing rapidly. Bob was sorry it was necessary to build this house so quickly, as he would have liked to work out all the details for it, but he had to be satisfied with the development of the plan, which he and his Aunt Bettie worked out after a great many conferences.

The house was to face the south and have a long porch running the full width of the front with a return on the west end. The south front was to face the flower garden and the west front would connect with the drive, while the back of the house would open into the general barnyard.

They planned to build the woodshed and laundry between the new house and the dairy, with a heating system and the fuel in the cellar. This would prevent the cellar of the main house becoming too warm for storage purposes. They had also decided to build the new machinery house to take care of the implements with a good-size tool shed adjoining--also a garage large enough to accommodate an automobile and two motor trucks and an oil house at one end. They were also at work on fifty concrete apiaries for the protection of the bees. The septic tank was being built by Mr. Brady in connection with the house, but the root cellar, corn crib, manure pit and the sheep barn were yet to be completed by Bob and Tony; but the plans for them had already been worked out.

It had also been decided that they should build a sixty-foot greenhouse for the growing of cucumbers and other vegetables under glass, which they would try out that winter--also a half dozen cold frames and a small mushroom cellar.

The work on the piggery was to include a hog-dipping vat, a platform and scalding vat. A garbage burner had been installed at the rear of the dairy not far from the woodshed.

The plans for the house included a cistern for the collection of rain water in the cellar under the laundry. After these had been planned, they decided that the old brick smokehouse was in a bad location and too far away from the house. So this was abandoned and a new smokehouse added in the rear of the dairy buildings.

In order to get all the work completed, they had found it necessary to let Mr. Brady build Tony's bungalow also, although they would much have preferred to do this work themselves.

They found that even with this help, they would have to let a number of things go over until the next year--among them a bridge to carry the lane over the new ditch, and some ornamental concrete work in connection with the garden.

They could work much faster now than formerly, as many of the neighbors' boys were available for a few days at a time, and even though the fall weather was upon them, they hoped to get all their concrete work done before the December snows.

XXII

THE FAIR

The State Fair, an event that had long been anticipated at Brookside Farm, was scheduled to be held on September tenth that year. The summer was not more than half over before Joe Williams decided that he had, if any thing, a little better crops and stock than any other man in the county; in fact, he was beginning to "feel his oats," as the saying went, and wanted to show his neighbors just how good a farmer he really was, so he took a great deal of pride in getting his products ready to exhibit.

First he decided to enter his team of Belgian mares and their two handsome young colts; then his majesty, King Pontiac, the head of the Holstein herd, and four of his best Holstein cows; then he selected two handsome Holstein bulls and two heifer calves; two Berkshire sows, one with a litter of ten fine pigs, together with two young Berkshire shoats; then Jerry, the Southdown ram, and the best two Southdown ewes and two good lambs; two breeding pens of white Leghorns and two of white Plymouth rocks were then selected; also the best cock and hen and the best cockerel and pullet, together with a dozen eggs laid by each breed. Then he picked out two bushels of the finest corn that had been raised in the bottom land and two bushels of oats and a dozen each of the three varieties of apples, and two bushels of potatoes. Then Bob selected two pounds of his best comb honey and Aunt Bettie and the girls picked out five dozen of their choice jellies and jams, and on the opening day of the fair this exhibition was taken to the fair grounds.

All work on the buildings was stopped and a number of neighbor boys were engaged to help to take the exhibit to town.

All the cattle had been carefully groomed for several weeks in advance and were in fine shape for exhibition purposes, and attracted a great deal of attention.

When the awards had been made, Joe Williams found he had won first prize in every class he had exhibited and in a number he had also carried off second prizes and sweepstakes, while Bob won first prize with his honey and Aunt Bettie five first prizes and four second prizes on her jellies and jams.

As soon as the exhibits were in place, Joe Williams went from one exhibit to another and fastened white cards printed in dark blue letters, containing the following words: "Grown on Brookside Farm, Joseph Williams, Proprietor."

"Say, Bob," said Alex Wallace, "if your Uncle Joe had won a few prizes more there would not have been any left for the rest of us."

"Oh, I don't know," said Bob, "there were lots of other prizes awarded besides those Uncle Joe got. How many did you win?"

"We got first and second on our Jersey cattle and first on our Clydesdale mare and colt, but your Uncle Joe cleaned up all the prizes on the grain."

"Well, next year perhaps you can win them."

"We're going to try for them all right. Father says Joe Williams needn't think he can come back here from the West and annex the State Fair. If he wins next year, he'll have to go some. We bought a tractor to-day, Bob."

"That's fine, Alex. When are you going to start your silo?"

"Oh, pretty soon," he replied as he left Bob.

Thursday was the big day of the Fair, and Bob, as a special reward for his services, was permitted to go to the Fair each day; in fact, much of the care of the stock depended on him, although he was unable to stay in town overnight as he would have liked on account of taking care of the milking.

Whom should he meet early Thursday morning, as he was coming from milking his cows that were on exhibition, but his father.

"Why, hello, Bob. I was just looking for you. My, how you have grown. I'd scarcely have known you."

"How-do-you-do, dad; how'd you like to have a drink of good fresh milk? 'Grown on Brookside Farm, Joseph Williams, Proprietor,'" he laughed.

"Fine," said his father, whereupon Bob handed him a glass of rich milk.

"Not as good as Gurney's, but pretty good at that," remarked his father. "I've heard about the prizes you and your Uncle Joe have won and couldn't help but come in and look you over, even, though I'm very busy and it was hard to get away."

"How did you leave mother and the rest of the family?" was Bob's next inquiry.

"Oh, they're all well, Bob. Your mother was sorry she couldn't come with me, but it was hard for her to get away. How do you like farming?"

"Oh, I like farming very much and I want to be a farmer. You know, there are lots of interesting things to do on a farm, dad."

"By the way, I met a friend of yours, Bob--John White, of the First National Bank. He was telling me all about the things you've been doing on the old place. He says you even have a name for it."

"Why, yes; didn't you see it on the exhibits? We're going to sell everything under a trade name, just like thread and other things that have names."

"How much do you weigh now, Bob?"

"I weight 137 pounds; that is 27 pounds more than when I went to the farm, and I'm two inches taller."

"I should say you have been growing, Bob. Has your Uncle Joe paid you yet for your year's work?

"No, he hasn't; but he will when he gets 'round to it. You see, he hasn't sold his crops yet."

"How much do you think he will give you, Bob?"

"I don't know, but I think he'll be fair. Aunt Bettie will see to that, if he should forget it himself. If you come along with me, I'll show you how many prize winners we have," and he proudly took his father from one exhibit to another, all the time telling him of the permanent improvements they were making on the farm.

"You must come out to the farm to-night and see the place. You have no idea what it looks like with the old barn gone and nearly all the concrete buildings up. You can see the big silo ever so far away. Of course, the biggest change is the taking away of the pond. Just look at that corn standing there--that's what we got out of the old pond where you taught me to swim. We got over 10 tons per acre of ensilage, after leaving several hundred bushels from the field from which to select our seed. You can see for yourself what fine-looking corn it is. Just look at those big ears there, and all that fifteen acres raised before was muskrats and turtles."

"You're right, Bob, it was a 'Hidden Treasure'."

After the speed trials were over Bob milked his cows again, and with his father drove out to Brookside Farm.

"My, it certainly doesn't look like the old place, Bob," his father remarked, when they came in sight of the farm. "What a fine fence; are those stone posts, Bob?"

"No, dad, they're concrete, but will last just as long as stone."

Bob now stopped the car to give his father time to see all the changes.

"Why, the sawmill's gone too, Bob."

"Yes," he replied, "we'll drive down that way and go in at the lower gate."

It was hard for Bob's father to understand the reason for all the buildings and what conditions had made them different sizes and shapes.

He did not know until Bob explained to him that each building required special designing to suit certain conditions.

That night they sang the "Happy Farmer" song for him, and his father sat up long after the others had retired, talking to his brother Joe.

On the way home from the Fair on Friday afternoon, the animals from Brookside Farm fell in behind those of the Wallace Farm. Alex Wallace was looking after their flock of Merino sheep, in which there was an old buck, and had with him their Scotch collie dog "Don." Bob was looking after his flock of Southdown sheep, which he had driven close behind Alex, so the boys could talk to each other back and forth as they went along.

After a while Alex got tired turning his head around to hear what Bob had to say, for the noise of the clattering feet of the sheep on the concrete road made it difficult for him to hear, so he left his dog "Don" between the two flocks and came back and joined Bob.

They proceeded thus for about a quarter of a mile when suddenly Jerry, the Southdown buck of Bob's flock, started forward and all the others followed, so that the two flocks became merged into one. As Bob rushed forward to separate them, the two bucks stepped up to each other and placed their heads together, when Alex, seeing Bob trying to separate them, shouted:

"That's right, Bob, take your big fellow away or mine will kill him."

The remark angered Bob, whereupon he ceased his efforts and said:

"Well, if you think that little runt of yours can kill ours, I guess we had better let them fight it out." "All right," said Alex; "I'm satisfied."

So the two boys stood still while the two bucks placed their heads together, then stepped slowly backwards until they were on opposite sides of the road, where they stood looking at each other. The ewes crowded back and left an open space between them and stood as intently interested as the boys, waiting the coming battle.

After the bucks had paused for a moment, they lowered their heads and rushed at each other. Now, it must be remembered that a Southdown buck stands very much higher than one of the Merino breed, which is rather short in the legs and set close to the ground. Also that the Southdown had been used to associating with sheep of his own size; consequently when he lowered his head to strike, he did not take into account that the Merino was so much lower than himself. This gave the Merino the advantage, and, instead of the Merino striking his adversary on the hard skull as the latter expected he would do, he struck him on the point of the nose, breaking Jerry's neck.

Both boys were horrified to see Bob's prize-winning buck lying dead in the road, and while they looked at him speechless, Tony, who was coming along behind with some of the cattle, rushed forward and quickly turned him into mutton, while Bob with a heavy heart went on to the farm with the others.

It was not necessary for Bob to explain the fight to his uncle, who came along the road shortly behind him and to whom Tony explained the accident.

"It's all right, Bob," said his uncle, as he drove up into the barnyard. "I know just how you felt when Alex Wallace challenged you to let them fight, and while I'm sorry Jerry is dead, still I think if I had been there myself, I would have taken up his dare, just as you did. You know Brookside Farm has a reputation to maintain, and, while I don't believe in quarreling, still this was a case where I think you were justified in letting them scrap it out. At any rate, we've had such a profitable year at Brookside, I guess we can afford to charge Jerry to the profit and loss account. He has not been exactly a gross loss. Tony has turned him into mutton, and, as soon as I get the cattle stowed away, I'm going back for him."

As soon as the Fair was over and all returned to the farm, they started in to dig their potatoes. Joe Williams expected a good yield from the field, but he was surprised when he found that from the seven acres he obtained 1400 bushels, which was considerably more than he thought was possible. To lessen the work, a potato plow was used to dig them, and they were graded by machinery in the field.

The new concrete root cellar had been completed just a few days before and the potatoes were taken there and put into bins.

"Do you know what I think, Uncle Joe?" said Bob one evening at supper, after the potatoes had all been gathered.

"What have you thought of now?" asked his uncle laughing, for since his crop had turned out so well and he had won so many prizes at the Fair, Joe Williams was very happy.

"I think if we would take our seven-acre potato field and put in an overhead sprinkler system, and put plenty of manure on it next year, we could increase the yield from 1400 bushels to 4200 bushels."

"How could it be possible to get that many potatoes out of seven acres of ground, Bob?" asked his uncle incredulously.

"Well, I've been reading of a farm in New Jersey where they do that, and they got $960 per acre for the potatoes, which were only one of three crops raised on the ground the same year."

"If that's so, Bob, why wouldn't it pay to plant the whole farm in potatoes?"

"Well, maybe it would, Uncle Joe, at least several of the fields. The story of the farm I was reading about said they put on one hundred tons of manure, worth $2.50 per ton, on each acre of ground."

"What!" said his uncle; "$250 worth of manure on each acre. That wouldn't be possible."

"Well, that's what the paper said--plenty of water and plenty of manure, and the crops take care of themselves."