"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, h.e.l.lo, 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 gla.s.s 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 s.p.a.ce 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 a.s.sociating 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 sc.r.a.p 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."