Kilo. Part 25

The second morning that Pap Briggs ate this eggless breakfast he suggested that perhaps Sally might buy a few eggs at the grocery.

"Pap Briggs," she exclaimed reproachfully, "the idee of you sayin' sich a thin! As if I would cook packed eggs! No; we'll wait, and mebby the hens will begin layin' again in a day or two."

But they did not, and the days became a week, and two weeks, and still no eggs rewarded her daily search. Pap knew better than to repeat his suggestion of buying eggs, for Sally Briggs said a thing only when she meant it, and to mention it again would only exasperate her.

"Our hens don't lay a blame egg," Pap told Billings complainingly, "and Sally won't buy eggs, and I can't eat nothin' but eggs for breakfast, so I reckon I'll jist have to naturally starve to death."

"Why don't you try some of our hen-food?" asked Billings, taking up a package and reading from the label. "'Guaranteed to make hens lay in all kinds of weather, the coldest as well as the warmest' That's just what you want, Pap."

"Well," said Pap, "I been keepin' hens off and on for nigh forty year, and I ain't ever seen any o' that stuff that was ary good; but I got to have eggs or bust, so I'll take a can o' that stuff. But I ain't no hopes of it, Billings, I ain't no hopes."

His pessimism was well founded. The cold spell was too much even for the best hen-food to conquer. No eggs rewarded him.

One evening he was sitting in Billings', smoking his pipe and thinking.

He had been thinking for some time, and at length a sparkle came into his eyes, and he knocked the ashes from his pipe and arose.

"Billings," he said, "mix me up about a nickel's wuth o' corn-meal, and a nickel's wuth o' flour, and"--he hesitated a moment and then chuckled--"and a nickel's wuth o' wash-blue."

"For heaven's sake, Pap," said Billings, "have ye gone plumb crazy?"

"No, I ain't," said Pap. "I ain't lost all my brains yit, nor I ain't gone plumb crazy yit, neither. That's a hen food I invented."

"Hen-food!" exclaimed Billings. "You don't 'low that will make hens lay, do you, Pap?"

"I ain't advisin' no one to use it that don't want to," said Pap, "but I bet you I'm a-goin' to feed that to my hens"; and he chuckled again.

"Pap," said Billings, "you're up to some be-devilment, sure! What is it?"

"You jist keep your hand on your watch till you find out," answered Pap, and he took his package and went home.

"Sally," he said when he entered the house, "I got some hen-food now that's bound to make them hens lay, sure."

She took the package and opened it.

"For law's sake, Pap," she said, "what kind o' hen-food is that? It's blue!"

"Yes," said Pap, looking at it closely, "it IS blue, ain't it? It's a mixture of my own. I ain't been raisin' hens off an' on fer forty year for nothin'. You got to study the hen, Sally, and think about her. Why don't a hen lay in cold weather? 'Cause the weather makes the hen cold.

This will make her warm. You jist try it. Give 'em a spoonful apiece an'

I reckon they'll lay. It don't look like much, but I bet you anything it'll make them hens lay."

"I don't believe it," she snapped, "and I'll hold you to that bet, sure's my names Briggs." But the next day she gave them the allotted portion.

That evening when Pap Briggs knocked the ashes from his pipe and rose from his seat in Billings' store, he said, "Billings, have you got some mainly fresh eggs--eggs you kin recommend?"

"Yes, I have," said Billings, with a grin. "So your hen-food don't work, Pap?"

Pap chuckled.

"It's a-workin," he said, "and you can give me a dozen o' them eggs.

And, say, you need't tell Sally."

Billings laughed. "I'm on," he said.

Pap put the bag of eggs back of the cracker-box, and put three of them in his pocket.

When he reached home he quietly slipped around the house and deposited the three eggs in three nests, and went it.

The next morning Sally greeted him with a smile. "Eggs this mornin', Pap," she said. "That hen-food did work like a charm. I got three eggs."

Pap ate without comment until he had finished the second egg. He felt that he could eat a dozen, after his long fast.

"It do seem good to have eggs agin," he said.

That evening, and the next evening he deposited three eggs as before. On the third morning Sally said: "It's queer about them hens, Pap; they lay, but they don't cluck like a hen generally does when she lays an egg."

Pap hesitated for a moment.

"It's sich cold weather," he said, "I reckon that's why."

About a week later Sally said: "I do declare to gracious, Pap, them hens do puzzle me."

Pap moved uneasily in his seat.

"The do puzzle me!" repeated Sally. "Here the are layin' right along as reg'lar as summer-time, and never cluckin' or lettin' on a bit, and the queerest thing is they jist lay three eggs every day. It don't seem natural!"

That night Pap put four eggs in the nests. The next night he put in five, and the next night three, and the danger into which his wiles had fallen was averted.

One morning Sally startled him by saying: "Pap, I can't make them hens out. Here they are a-layin' right along, and all at once they quit layin' decent sized eggs like they ought, and begin layin' little mean things no better than banty eggs."

Pap scratched his head.

"You must allow, Sally," he said, "that it's quite a strain on a hen to keep a-layin' right along through such weather as this, and I'm only thankful they lay any. Mebby if you give them a leetle more o' that hen-food they'll do better."

"I believe it," said Sally. "Why, it's wonderful, Pap. I shouldn't be a bit surprised to find 'em layin' duck eggs if I jist give 'em enough o'

that stuff."

Pap looked closely at her face, but it was innocent of guile. She suspected nothing.

The next day the eggs were of the proper size.

"It's a real blessin' to have hens a-layin'," she said one day. "I took half a dozen over to the minister's wife this mornin', and she was so pleased! She said it was sich a blessin' to have fresh eggs again.

She was gittin' sick o' them she's been buyin' at Billings'. She was downright thankful."

About a week later she said:

"Them hens of ourn do beat all creation. I run out o' that hen-food a week ago, and I hain't give them a mite since, and they keep a-layin'

jist the same. I can't make head nor tail of them, Pap."

Pap squirmed in his chair.