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Show fhnrsday, July 5, 1928 THE LEHI SUN. LEnL IITAIl PAGE THREE I . By llltuiratiotu. by IRWIN MYERS, Copyright 8f Oaortrt B. Dorm Company. CHAPTER X Continued : . 22 - A meager dinner of slum begnn the afternoon. After dinner the well men marched sullenly away to drill and the sick, lame, and lazy slunk back to the cheerless huts. Only once through-cut through-cut the afternoon did anyone speak to Sergeant Eadle and that was when he decided to sleep, and removed his overcoat to spread over himself after he bad lain down. A gloomy man on the next bunk noticed the gleam of - Eadle's new wound stripes. "Yuh got on two wound stripes? Inquired the gloomy man. "Yes,' replied Eadle. Yuh make two trips to hospital?" asked the other skeptically. "Yes." . . "Yuh got an order glvln' yuh authority au-thority to wear 'emj" "Horseteeth I" replied Eadle, lying down and pulling his overcoat over blm. ' . . "Yuh ain't got no right to wear 'em less yuh got an order," said the other man triumphantly. "I'll show you the wounds If you want to see 'em I" snapped Eadle. "Who the h I are you anyway V The other man grunted and retired Into his coat collar without further reply. re-ply. The third day of his stay In Le Cor-neau Cor-neau Eadle was summoned to the com pany office and ordered to report to the hospital for classification. "Suppose a guy Is classified definitely," definite-ly," Eadle asked the clerk, "how long before he gets shoved out of here?" "That depends on the classification. If he gets D or C he's liable to he Lere for some time." "And A or B?" "They get sent out pretty soon,' said the clerk. "We're always getting calls for men." Eadie thought deeply as he tramped across the camp to the hospital. Desertion De-sertion from the camp was Impossible, tie had marie sore of that. The roads were patrolled by cavalry, the camp provost detachment, military police, nd detachments furnished by the main guard. On the other hand, life in the camp was Intolerable. It had been bad enough when' he had been there the first time, but now the type of soldier had changed. Before, the men had been the average American, wounded from the Regular and National Na-tional Guard divisions, volunteers, every one of them. Now the camp was filled with the scum of every nationality nation-ality on the face of the earth, the dregs of the famous American melting pot that the long arm of the draft had stirred np. There were heavy-Jowled, heavy-Jowled, stolid Slavs, curly-headed AI banians and Greeks, round-headed filthy Russian Jews, Italians of the lowest sort, a crowd of men that scarcely spoke English, dirty, undis clplined. ignorant men who addressed an officer as "boss" and a sergeant as "Hey, Jack!" They lived and ate and slept like animals and the sight of them smacking and crunching their food would turn even a soldier's stom ach. What then could a man do? To go over the hill meant disaster, and to stay was Impossible. Still.-there might be a way. A man that could make his way through the woods at night In enemy territory ought to be able to elude a few police. But where to go? Where was the outfit? The outfit I "I'm going back, by G di" cried Eadie suddenly. "Why didn't I think of It before?" He walked on more briskly. But could It be done? He was still very weak, he slept every af ternoon, and a walk from the barracks bar-racks to the camp gate exhausted him. And how about home, where a man could take off his uniform and forget It all?" "Nix," said , Eadie aloud. "I'm a noncommissioned officer of the Regular Regu-lar army and wherever my bunk Is, Is Lome to me." He went Into the hospital. Into a large room full of men and he removed re-moved his clothes as the other men had. Three doctors stood In the clr cle of naked men, and the men went through var'ous exercises, rising on their toes, extending their arms bend ii.g down, all with the Intention of dis playing any loss of movement to the three doctors. Then the men leaped up and dowa In place for some time, and after that the doctors went about with stethoscopes listening- to hearts and, asking each man the nature of his wound. The doctor paused he fore Eadie and poked his'scar nhh a stubby finger. "What gave you that?" asked the doctor. "Appendicitis," replied Eadie. "Bumm. They did a poor Job on you. How do you feel?" "Fine." replied Eadie. "Want to go back to your outfit?" "Yes, sir." replied the sergeant "Put him down 'A,'" directed the doctor, and went on to the next man. A week at Le Corneaul Was there any hell of battle to be compared to it? No. But the week finally passed and tin the eighth day Eadie found himself acting first sergeant of a de tachment of replacements for the rniy of Occupation. They went away early In the afternoon In third-class cars and Eadle began his tblrd Jour to rejoin the battery. It was not LEONARD NASON like the old wartime trips, with a tralnload of shouting, singing soldiers full pf red wine and getting fuller every time the train stopped, with men falling out of cars and off the roofs and losing the train at stations and appearing at the next stop having cuught an express, and finally disappearing disap-pearing for good. No, times had changed. Every station was guarded by an Inflexible bnrrage of police. Where the tank cars full of wine used to stand unguarded there were now railway employees still In the blue of the army, and wise to all the tricks of the soldiers. No more was there that rough bon camarade spirit, the "soldiers "sol-diers all and to h I with civilians," that Eadie had known. Every one was disgusted, every one begrudging every minute he spent In uniform. At Metz the scene suddenly changed. The slouchy French In civilian clothes and army overcoat that crowded the sta tlon platforms disappeared, and In their place appeared very snappy sol diers with bayoneted rifles, chasseurs alplns, tirailleurs, colonials In red hats, Senegalese, occasional British and then, finally, Americans, alert, clean, well-dressed, shaven, shoes polished pol-ished In spite of the mud, men to make another American weep tears of Joy. Gone were the round heads, the curly Jiends, and the dirty heads. Americans, well-kept, In new, finely fitting uniforms. Eadie took ofT his overcoat and looked critically at his own salvage blouse and breeches. Well, he would be paid at the outfit and then he was going to buy himself a new uniform, from putts to cap. "How come you wear two wound stripes, sergeant?" asked one of the men In the compartment "I was wounded twice," replied Eadie coldly. "Oh," said tbe other. The other men all grinned. "It ain't nothln' to us," said a man In the corner, grinning, "only look out when you get to the outfit I heard you tell the doctor you had appendl citis." The next day the train rattled through suburbs that reminded a man vaguely of St. Louis or Indianapolis. clattered over a great Iron bridge and came to a halt. The place swarmed with Americans. It was Coblenz, the headquarters of the Army of Occupa Hon, a city famous as a resort and garrisoned by a Corps d'Armee before the war, the capital of the French Department De-partment of the Rhine under Napoleon, Na-poleon, the capital of Rhenish Prussia under the kaisers, and now the capital capi-tal of the occupied area. A great place, thought Eadle, a fine place In which time would not hang heavy on man's hands. However, no such luck. Before he had done looking around, the sergeant had been marched out of the station and loaded Into a truck. By virtue of his rank he rode on the seat, hut the other men had to ride Inside. The replacement detach ment, It appeared, had been spilt up upon arrival at Coblenz. those for the Fourth division going one way, and those from the Third and Forty-second going another. "What's the next stop?" Eadie asked the driver. "Brlgafle headquarters," answered the driver shortly. They rattled through the streets and finally came out Into the snow-clad country. Eadie turned up the collar of his overcoat and shivered. "How's the soldiering here?" he asked. ."Taln't bad," replied the driver. "It's better'n It was In France. You a replacement ?" - "No," said Eadle, "1 was wounded." "Where was you wounded?" demanded de-manded the driver suspiciously, so that Eadie gasped at his vehemence. "Why, In the Argonne!" answered Eadie, aghast. "At Montfaucon." - "Huh," grunted the driver, "you don't look It "Well, I was. I'll show yon the wound If you want to see It" "I don't want to see It." said the driver. "It ain't nothln' to me, only every goldbrlek an' camouflager an' sick an lame an' lazy gimmick that ever heard o' the Third division Is comin' back now that the war Is over. 'IMS o' beer an frnulelns In Germany let's go,' they says, and they come outta their holes where they been all through the war an' comes back here with some line 6' bull they was wound ed or In hospital or somethin". Huh! There's Frog I.eclair, he had function ul disorders every time he heard a shell hurst an" It got chronic on him. They sent him out. He's back now swellln' around with his chest out In a tailor nade uniform. His trouble don't bother him no more. They ain't no shell bursts here!" Eadie made no reply and the truck covered several kilometers. A peasant In a high-wheeled cart took a long time to clear the road and when the driver had finished swearing at him he turned to Eadie again. "Another thing that riles me." said the driver, "Is that these here Johns show op with their arms all plastered with wound stripes, and gold stars and canteen medals on their chests and fourrageres and God knows what, and not a d n one of 'em rates ary thin I Well, .the provost marshal Is D. S. C. WND Berries out for 'em now. If a man alnt. ot an order for a stripe or a medal right In his pocket, he don't wear it" "Listen," said Eadle. "What's the Idea of popping off at me? . I was wounded and back at the front again while you were still trying to make up your mind who the war was with And I'm rankest sergeant of battery A of the Seventy-ninth and 1 can put any man In this division In the can. too. I was wounded right In back of the guns and the whole d d first battalion bat-talion saw me get It Now J What do you think of that for gooseberries?" "I wasn't sayln nothln' about you," said the driver. "A man's got a right to speak his mind, ain't he? You got on two wound stripes, I seen em when you was puttln on your coat How the h I can a man get two wound stripes between July and November and still get back to his outfit at New Year's?" "One of 'em's for appendicitis 1" said a voice from the back of the truck. - The driver blew his horn and shifted shift-ed gears for a long hill. Brigade headquarters was In a small town, a clean, whitewashed, low-eaved place, where stiff-hacked soldiers marched solemnly down the. street, coming back - from drill ; stern sen- IP WIV A Strongly Built, Blue-Eyed Girl Appeared Ap-peared and Grinned at the Four Men. tries with bayoneted rifles, were everywhere, every-where, and stolid Germans looked curiously at Eadle. If he grinned back at them they smiled and chuckled and bobbed their beads with delight At brigade headquarters Eadle gave his name and they sent hltn with an orderly or-derly down the street to a ration dump, from which a truck was soon leaving, for his battalion, quartered In a neighboring town. . . Again Eadie mounted the driver's seat again the truck grunted and banged Its way out of town and through the snow-covered fields, Eadle was alone and the hark of the truck full of rations, so that hi3 riding the seat did not proclaim him a noneom. "What outfit yuh out of, buddy?' asked the new driver after a while. "A," replied Eadle fiom his coat collar "Wounded?" asked the driver. "No!" barked Eadie, "I'm a replace ment." "Funny," commented the driver, "you look a lot like a sergeant outta A that got wounded." They passed a field where a mount ed band was formed on white horses The leader's saber glittered. , "Regimental call, adjutant's call," command came clearly across the snow. The saber dropped and the cold cry of the trumpets blared. Grasshopper Vane Not - It Is generally conceded that when Peter Faneuil caused a large grass hopper to be placed on top of Faneuil hall In Boston as a weathervane. ue did it in emulation of Thomas Ores ham. who 176 years before had given his home city. London, a handsome bourse - for merchants, dedicated by Queen Elizabeth as the Royal Exchange Ex-change and crowned by the firesiiam family crest a gilded grasshopper. The grasshopper had been adopted for a crest by the Greshams obviously because be-cause the name Greshatn Is regarded as a corruption of the German word for grasshopper, "grasshelm." Faneuil undoubtedly bad seen the London grasshopper and liked It so he chose U for the building be gave to Boston. A Discovery Little Gilbert, who bad seen chickens chick-ens but never a duck, was visiting bis grandmother In the country. He went out to explore the barn and came to a small stream where some ducks were swimming. Looking at them in amazement amaze-ment he eiclaimed, "Ohl I'rt found some steamboat chicken Eudle'i skin prickled Fits That was bis outfit's baud I "You Co git off here," the driver Ja!d, slowing down the truck. "The P. C, la right down that street." Eadle got down and then, pack .la hand, looked around. "By G-d. If It ain't him!" cried two voices simultaneously. "I told yuh he'd never die." said a third. Eudie turned. Ham. Baldy and Short Mack fell upon his neck, "Man, you always play In luck." cried Ham. "Here we been here tw months an' through h I an' Just at they begin to let up on us a bit, In you come!" . "Come on down to the club," salt Baldy. "The noncoms rate a special mess an' twin' all sergeants now, we can talk there easier than here. I been made since 1 seen you last Did you have much of a time with that wound?" "Tell the truth an say 'no,'" advised ad-vised Short Mack as they went down the street. "Tell the truth. It dldnt no more than knock the wind out of yuh." , His comrades' good-natured raillery. though he affected to take It In good part, dampened somewhat the sergeant's ser-geant's Joy In the reunion, and he fell Into a reflective silence. They entered a house a short distance dis-tance down the street It bore all the marks of a barroom, but. Inside was clean and warm. A strongly built, blue-eyed girl ap peared and grinned at the four men. "Her mother's the cook," explained Ham. "Vier bier!" ordered Short sitting down at the long table. "Sohnell!" added Baldy. "Wle gehts?" asked Uam. Tbe three then turned their eyes questlonlngly on Eadle, as If to say, "Whnddyuh think o' that for German, kid?" "And you birds all speak Gertnaa now!" exclaimed Eadle with admiration. admira-tion. "It was tough learnln' It," said Ham. "There was a time when If you batted an eye at a German, man or woman. the mill and a six months' blind for you. It s cnangeci a lime now. i ne orders Is still on, but we got so we can beat 'era now an then. You sure come back In a good time." "Boy, you were lucky you didn't make the march Into Germany with us I" cried Short "No goldbrlcklng behind the caisson then. We changed colonels Just, before we started and the one we got was rarin' to make us snan out of It You'd never know some o' the officers, they got so hard boiled over night." "It makes a difference with a guy when he knows that there's no chance o' some one's easin' a bullet Into him in the excitement o the fight!" re marked Baldy. "Shut up!" cried Short. "We was hikln a hundred and twenty steps to the minute and njarchln' at attention all the tlnie, and washln the carriages every night, full pack every man showdown Inspection Saturday, snappy snap-py salute, the mill if they caught you with your pistol belt off, not allowed to leave camp after dark, oh, boy!" "It ain't bad now," said Ham, "Eadie, you're In luck. They're drlllin us as if they were gettln' ready for another war, but there's a new rumor out that we're goin' home, so maybe it won't last long." "Eadle,. you was always lousy with luck." remarked Short. "We used to think of you when we was hikln' through the cold rain, tired nn hungry, an' it gettln' dark an' the guns an' carriages to wash an' horses to water before we d get any sleep, an you snug an' warm In a white bed holdin' a good-lookin' nurse s nana I Eadie grunted. It was warm In the room and he arose and removed his overcoat. Then he sat down aKaln restlna his arms on the table The beer arrived, but no one drank. They were all looking at Eadle's sleeve. On his right cuflf was the mark of stripes such as one sees on the sleeve of newly busted noncom. There wor little bits of thread there and a tear where the knife had slipped. "You ain't wearin' no wound stripes?" questioned Ham. after an embnrrassed pause. "No." said Eadle. reaching out for a glass of beer. "The whole outfit knows I was wounded.1 He tMk a draught of beer and smacked his lips "All you get by wearing wound stripes Is a lot of cheap conversation!" fTHE END.1 Original With Faneuil The Faneuil hall grasshopper has fallen to the street three times In Its 1S5 years' existence, once In the famous 17f5 earthquake. agHln In 17(51 when the building was horned, and finally a 18S9. as a result of getting entangled with the flagimle halliards. After the 17.Vi tumble a demolished leg had to be replaced, and In 1S8H new glass eyes, as well as horns and feet were required. Detroit News. Horse1 Origin Unknown Dubose Heyward says "marsh tackles" are the "poor horse trash" of the Carolina coast country's swamps and sea Islands. "Early tradition says these horses were found by the English when they first came and that they are the descendants of runaway from be Spanish settlements to the south about St Augustine, or horse turned loose by De Soto upon bis Ill-fated Ill-fated march to. the MlssissIppL" The Task of Adaptation life for most of os is a continuous process of getting usetf to the things we hadn't expected-Boston Trs cript REMOVE ROOSTERS FROM HEN FLOCKS Now that the hatching season Is over and fertile eggs are no longer needed, every poultryman .should remove re-move all of the male birds from his flock. For, says C S. l'lutt assistant poultry husbandman at the New Jersey exiierlment station, the production produc-tion of fertile eggs for market purposes pur-poses Is never desirable, though It cannot can-not be avoided during the hutching benson. On many farms there Is a desire to keep over some of the better cockerels od the temptation Is to allow these to remain In the flock. The number retained, however, should be reduced to a minimum by carefur selection. When this Is done the tew that are fcett should be segregated. It must be remembered that a new crop of cockerels will be reared during the coming season and good, vigorous cockerels are usually better than older birds anyway.;' The exception exists on those turms practicing pedigree mating. Where this Is done It Is absolutely necessary to keep over all of the mule birds un til one knows what their ciuugnters haw done. A proved male is prac tically priceless and us one cannot determine In advance exactly wnai his daughters will do H becomes necessary nec-essary to keep the birds over until they have had a chance to show their ability. ... Male birds 'that are kept siiouid ne given plenty of sunshiue, green food. and yellow com. They will not neeu much animal protein. A Tree range and whole yellow corn fed twice dally will take care of their needs until the next breeding season. If kept confined, con-fined, cod liver oil should be provided In addition to the corn and green food. One per cent In the grain would provide sufficient oil. Under confined pondltlons It will also be necessary to be on the watch for lice and mites all of the time. These can be Kepi under' conttol by painting the roosts with a rarholineuni product and ny dusting the birds with sodium fluoride Fatten Broilers Before Sending Them to Market profitable gains usually will be made by broilers that are fattened for a period of two weeks before they are sold. However, one rtiould not expect to fatten broilers for longer than ft two weeks' period, as the gains will not be rapid and profits are likely to disappear. Cockerels should be sepa rated from the pullets and confined to a small yard. A roosting shed should be provided for the fattening birds. A satisfactory mas-h mixture for fat tcning broilers is one composed of two parts of cornmeul and one part wheat middlings. This should be mixed with milk and fed for fifteen to twenty- minute periods three times dally. liberal feeding of cracked corn should be given late In the afternoon. If liquid milk is available, It can be kept before the birds during the fattening fat-tening period and no water need be given. Plenty of water should be provided pro-vided If no milk Is fed. Slow-Feathering Chicks Common in Some Breeds "Slow feathering or 'naked' chicks are quite common in general purpose breeds, and sometimes occur In the lighter breeds," says Prof. U. W. Car-rick, Car-rick, Purdue university. "Such chicks ,ure usually those that lack the vigor necessary to grow rapidly but chicks may also become stunted from Improper Im-proper feed, chilling, or crowded conditions con-ditions during the first few weeks of their lives. "Whatever the cause may be, little can be done to make such chickens profitable. If pullets, they lay poorly and are likely to be susceptible suscep-tible to disease. They should be marked with leg bands when five or six weeks old, and marketed as soon as they reach sufficient size, otherwise other-wise they may feather out slowly and be kept In tbe flock to produce similar simi-lar chicks next season." By constantly culling out these low-iltallty low-iltallty chicks, one can practically eliminate them In the future offspring. Good Laying Mash A farmer who raises corn, wheat, and oats can work them Into a good laying mash. It can consist of 100 pounds of ground corn, 100 pounds of ground oats. 200 pounds of ground wheat and 100 pounds of meat scrap. The addition of 2 per cent iMine oieul. 2 per cent ground limestone and 1 per cent tine sail will furnish minerals. Adding "0 pounds of bran to the 500 pounds of mash helps to give it more bulk, when ground wheat Is used In place of brnn and middlings. Prevent Diseases It Is Hn established fact thai most of the tuberculosis In fowls Is found in the older birds. When the older birds are eliminated, the principal spreaders of tuberculosis are eliminated. elimi-nated. Therefore the sale of birds after they have completed most of their first year laying cycle is not only the method of securing the highest high-est production per ben but also s method of helping to prevent spread - At,at Biu-h tuberculosis and I other ailments. IsTHIRTY the JLovc Deadline 1 Dr. Ceorgs A. Dorsey b a great scientist, and fmt student of hwua nature. For form ha hat studied huraaa being, oot only In the civiUied drawing room of the world, but in cava; tuntlea, Strang tropical land, impenetrable Arctic countries. His recent book, "Why We Behava Like Human Beings," show startling blight into every process of the extraordinary mechanism we call man. Doctor Dorsey b married. By GEORGE A. OORSEY, Ph. D, LL. 0 "No muii over thirty can tall in love." Isn't that Jusl like a phllosoph-usterl phllosoph-usterl But perhaps Doctoi Durant never said It Or perhaps lie was itiereij trying to establish an alibi. I don't know the tacts tn his case, hut I can see. how a man niarrlwl at thirty-one and cooled off at tldrty-two. inighi counter his wife's "You don't love me any morel' with: ."I try. but I Just can't; I never did love you, I only thought I did.- No man over thir ty can fall In love." Why Is there no tool like un old fool? Because he was a fool to full at all, but the older he is the harder he falls. Five years ago I met an old frlen on the fast St Louis-New York train. I had known him all my life, but nev er hud I seen him so radiant In coun tenance or so resplendent In new clothes and shiny shoes My random "You must be on your way to your wedding" made hi old pink cheeks (he was onl, sixty-five ) crimson, and. caught In the act as It were, he could only stammer: "How did you know?" . I didn't know, but all that I know of human nature and of the significance signifi-cance of being born human led me to believe that this nice old widower hadn't blossomed out for nothing. I could think of mulling but love lhai could drive him out ot hl rut and ruBty routine into Hue raiment and an excess tare train to New York. A few weeks later I mei the brid. She could not have been more than sixty, but she was as radiant as had been her lover on his way to claim her. Today, after five years, they are as much In love with each other as ever, and note this point his devotion Is such as would tickle the vanity of the most exacting girl of eighteen married to a youth of twenty. I said "note." Its is had enough to ay that no man over thirty can fall In love, but to udd thut he cannot become be-come devoted to a woman s to salt the wound to human capacity. More Is known about wha! man can do than about what he can't. In fact, to put an arbitrary limit on man's capacity ca-pacity Is to disclose the limits of one's understanding ot human nature. An ordinary man of thirty can grow no taller; the pituitary glai.d normally sets limits on Increase In stature after aft-er twenty-five. The exceptional man can grow taller after he Is thirty: his pituitary has not yet limited his growth. Normally, and speaking bi ologically, men can fall Id love till they are fifty or sixty, a few till they are sixty or seventy, hut some reach, sex senility before they turn thirty. There Is no arbitrary or fixed limit t the functioning of the love Impulse-certainly Impulse-certainly no arbitrary limit at thirty years of age. The depth ot a man' 'love for a woman could well be believed to bo greater at forty than at thirty, or at fifty than at twenty The usual flare-ups flare-ups ot youth have been well styled "puppy love" playful, fleeting, hesitating, hesi-tating, ephemeral, and too often deaf, dumb and blind Even savages recognize rec-ognize the. fact, and some do not consider con-sider a man fit for enduring love and whole-hearted devotion until be is thirty years of age, They think, and not without reason, that love cannot ripen until the man has matured. Cannot fall In love? Speak for yourself. your-self. Doctor Durant Some con, I know, iiow do I knwl I am reminded re-minded of tlit. man wLo called up a lawyer to explain bis trouble with the officers of the law. "But they can't put you In Jail for that'' replied the lawyer. "Maybe they can't; but I'm In !" I'm In for life, committed at the age of fifty-five. And as for "true devotion," de-votion," perhaps I'm not the one to speak ; but if forced to answer, would ask first:- Just what do you mean oy "devotion," Doctor Durant If you really said it? Conjugal fidelity? Or such constancy for the welfare and happiness of a loved one as amounts to a zeal only to be surpassed. If at all, by devotion to a helpless child? If the former, age hn? nothing to do wlih it ; If the latter. I don't know Imw old a man would have to be not n be able to become truly devoted to o woman. Why don't I know) By the sum token thai prompted the old colored woman who. when risked bow old a woman had to be before Sl.e could no longet fall in love, replied: "I dunno. honey; you"ll have to ask somebody older 'n I Is." CP 1911 be fbe Bell Srnrllrete. Inc. I Fire Fanned by Rocks Coul mine fires that rage under ground long after all attempts to suffocate suf-focate them have failed, are kept alive by "breathing rocks." In the opinion of Prof. W. Spencer Hutchinson, metallurgist metal-lurgist of he Massachusetts Institute of Technology. By "inhaling" air when the barometric pressure is high, he says ha Popular Science Monthly, these porous rocks fay tbe nnder jroird fires |