The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-05-24

Chickens became the absorbing topic of the
moment in their little circle, and a friend
ly warfare waged for supremacy in the
matter of eggs. AS time passed this was
exchanged for brooding. and the number of
young chicks each could boast of. The
Joneses invited the Browns to their first fry.
and the Browns invited the Joneses to their
first broil.
By fall honors were evenly distributed
between Dorkings and Cochins, Black Span
ish and Plymouth Rocks. Joneses and
Browns alike hungered for new worlds to
conquer in the realms of chickens.
The first inspiration was a Brown in
spiration. The Brown run was garnished
with anomaly in the way of some fowls
that go by the name of the Friesland II
is feathered biped with its plumage ap-
parently put on wrong end before, and it
impresses the onlooker who sees it for the
first time as having at some stage of its
existence met a cyclone tail-end to and
never having been able to get its feathers
Strengthened afterwards.
Its funny" remarked Mr.. Jones depre-
catingly. as he exhibited his prizes to his
envious neighbor, ''but the other fowls
| won't have anything to do with them. They
seem to have some idea that they are
different order of creation. No you DON'T
he exclaimed excitedly, as his heavy cork
soles sent a gigantic Dorking chanticleer
hastily through the air towards the other
side of the run. you conceited old fool.
youi If you don't leave Frizzle alone I'll
wiring your neck
He pried the frightened and uncomfort-
able new cockerel out from behind the feed
barrel and set him gently on his feet. Poor
brute, feels he's not made right someway
and don't know how. Cora's got name
| for every individual fowl there Is here.
| She's on the verge of tears each chicken We
| kill. But that's the way with these wom-
| en-can't take any sort of pleasure in this
| sort of business without OVERRIDING the mat
| ter and he ran his hand down soothingly
| over the rumpled plumage.
From this visit Mr.. Jones went home, his
pride dropping, but his mind forming
| vaguely an ambitious revenge Wasn't he
| responsible for this fad in the first place?
Would Brown ever have thought Of such
thing, pray tell. if he. Jones. hadn't first
| put the idea into his head?
| 'Tll tell you what it is. Cora" he re-
marked confidingly over his evening pipe.
what we want are some fancy touches.
| This thing of custards. cakes and frying
chickens is all well enough when you're in
| a thing for business, but when pleasure has
| anything to do with 1t it's fancy touches.
| Fancy touches are what We want"
| In the course of the following week the
| express van again drew up before the
Jones door and Mrs. Jones watched anx-
iously as the expressman unlocked the
back board and took out from the pile of
| boxes a carefully constructed chicken trav-
| cling crate. She had begun to have qualms
| lately about the family ambition in the
| chicken line when she ran over the mutual
| expense book.
Mr.. Jones entered the house buoyantly
in the evening. evidently in a state of
great excitement. "Clara, 1 say, Clara"
he called cheerily, What did you do with
| them?"
Mrs. Jones came down stairs looking
alarmed and showed a half hysterical in
] clination TO laugh. II turned them loose
| in the chicken run, George" she faltered,
| but, dear, I'm afraid-Pm afraid-they
| aren't getting along just as well with the
other chickens.
/ Mr.. Joness round face beamed good
naturedly "Why, of course not, of course
not he braced his heels proudly and
| wiped his forehead "Just the way with
| those frizzles of Browns. Now, those
Cochins and Plymouth Rocks, / suppose.
have no idea but that they are going to
| rule the run, but you just wait till these
| new fellows have been here a few days;
they'll get along all right. Don't worry"
But the little face above the blue shirt
| waist looked distinctly worried. I'm
| afraid-Im afraid, George, 1t isn't just that
way"
When Mr.. Jones opened the chicken-run
door. fully determined to uphold there the
| rights Of his new property, 1t was very
disconcerting tableau met his astonished
eyes.
The red boards Of the outer fence were
lined with little groups of frightened CO.
| chin and Plymouth Rock biddies that now
and then raised a ruffied head and gave
| vent to loud and worried screech. At
| one side, in the center of a befeathered
space of gravel, lay one of his pet and par
| ticular Plymouth Rock cocks, his large
barred body limp protest against the un-
expected fate that had been his; from be-
hind the ash box protruded three stiff feath-
| ers of a Dorking rooster. The. Dorking had
evidently been more wise than his Plym-
outh Rock brother, he had tucked his more
| vulnerable portion safely away in the one
protective crack about the run. While in
the center of the enclosure, his cropped
head high. his 1.-the body perched on it's
abnormaily long legs glistening in the sun
shine. his demeanor distinctly arrogant,
Mr. Jones beheld the fighting element of his
| new consignment.
We'll I'm d-d!" remarked that gen.
| tleman heartily.
Nevertheless he brought Mr.. Brown over
and proudly permitted him to inspect the
new purchase. Mr.. Brown. of the Friesland
fowl. was properly impressed. Largely did
the owner expatiate on the gamey qualities
of the fierce black cock-qualities that were
perfectly obvious TO the onlooker, for the
body of the vanquished lay still in the CEN
ter of the feather-bestrewn space, and the
game promenaded up and down, up and
down. the length of the run.
Now" said his owner. as he pointed out
the unnatural contours of the new cock.
Look at him. Will you look at him. Mark
the astounding fruits of intelligent breed
ing. II is not entirely impossible to I'M
derstand how the cruel and bloody sport
of game-fighting can become so fascinat-
ing to the uncivilized natives of say
Cuba. Could a race horse be more clean in
his lines, more openly aware of his blue
blood? Why, Thomas, I'll warrant that
cock right there, could whip any other