Band books

In the intervals of attendance on the
incubators he was hard at work on the brooder-house, which must be ready
for its first occupants by the 25th. Everything went smoothly until the
18th. That morning Sam met me with a long face.
"Something went wrong with one of my lamps last night," said he. "I
looked at them at ten o'clock and they were all right, but at six this
morning one of the thermometers was registering 122 deg., and the whole
batch was cooked."
"Not the whole thousand, Sam!"
"No, but 170 fertile eggs, and that spoils a twenty-dollar bill and a
lot of good time. What in the name of the black man ever got into that
lamp of mine is more than I know. It's just my luck!"
"It's everybody's luck who tries to raise chickens by wholesale, and we
must copper it. Don't be downed by the first accident, Sam; keep
fighting and you'll win out."
The brooder-house was ready when the first chicks picked the shells on
the 24th, and within thirty-six hours we had 503 little white balls of
fluff to transfer from the four incubators to the brooder-house.


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