Jack stood on one leg in about 2 inches of warm water which covered the bottom of the tub. It was the only damp spot on the premises, and the day was sultry. He intended to sleep there until the horses. came home from work and then he could take a fresh water bath after they had finished drinking. He slept quite undisturbed, for the children found it too hot to play with him and the pig, lacking the energy necessary for a spirited fight, had been vanquished by a few sturdy blows and now lay on the shady side of the tub grunting lazily. The afternoon wore slowly away with no change anywhere, except as Jack changed feet or his companion turned from one side. to the other.

Jack was a 5-year-old sandhill crane, and was the pet of the family. He had been captured when a wee, fuzzy fellow. After a few days he had been contented to cast in his lot

with the hens and ducks and had never shown any inclination to change. When a year old his owner, John Knolton, had cruelly suspected him, and had clipped his wings. John was, however, thoroughly ashamed of his lack of confidence, and never again repeated the operation. When any of Jack's friends flew by he would. stretch his long neck and utter a few calls. On several occasions he had even visited them as they lit on the surrounding fields; but farther than this he never seemed to show any in

terest in wild life. He was good company to John Knolton in the fields. as he followed the plow or harrow and picked bugs from the freshly turned earth. The children loved Jack, and he pecked them all quite impartially and ran away from them when he grew tired. Even Mrs. Knolton herself, busy with her work, liked to see him about the yard, and though she threatened him direfully when he walked across her clean floors with muddy feet, she forgot it all when he went with her after the cows.

Mr. Knolton at last came home, and Jack got out of the barrel, flopped his wings, struck a blow or 2 at the pig, and stuck his head into the cool fresh water as it fell from the pail.

"Well, Jack," said his master, "I saw lots of big fellows like you today. If I had had my gun we should have crane for supper.

Jack was busy with his toilet, and paid no attention to this bloodthirsty

remark.

"I say, Jack, old fellow," went on Knolton, hitting Jack a friendly slap on the head. "Do you hear that, you rascal? Crane for supper, Jack.'

Jack paid not the least heed but interrupted his bath to catch a grasshopper and then went on with his work as if crane 3 times a day did not affect him. His master put away his team and went in to tea.

At the supper table Mr. Knolton told of the great number of cranes about, and the bacon seemed twice as

dry and salty, as the family thought of a juicy fat crane done to a delicious brown. The little Knoltons went to bed with visions of drumsticks and soft dressing that would be almost like Christmas.

Early in the morning Knolton was awakened by a great noise in the barn yard. He got up at once and ran to the window. Raising the blind he saw a sight that made his nerves tingle. Scattered over the yard, by the well and even on the stable, were scores of cranes. He understood it in a moment. A late flock had decided to pass the night on the fresh fields, but attracted by calls from Jack, had come right into the yard. They were quite at ease, flapping their wings and beginning to move about as it grew daylight.

All feverish with excitement Knolton loaded his old gun, pounding down the powder with muffled strokes and spilling some shot, which sounded on the floor like hail. When all was ready he went quietly to the window and opened it. The flock were gradually moving away from the house. showing signs of restlessness. Knolton hesitated a moment. What if he should kill Jack? Not likely among so many. Still he hesitated. They were getting farther off. Soon his gun would not reach them. Then with joy he noticed one leave the flock and turn back. That must be Jack. Knolton raised his gun and fired into the flock.

felt like a murderer. Lifting the dead bird tenderly he bore him to the house. His wife and children were up and received the news woefully. The children recognized Jack by a thousand little marks and both their parents could now identify him.

A sad party took breakfast that morning at Knolton's. The children looked with tearful, reproaching eyes. at their father, and Mrs. Knolton shed silent tears. Knolton ate little, feeling too much like a criminal, and he would have given his best cow if he could have put life into that poor bird.

After breakfast the whole family went to the garden, where Mr. Knolton dug a drave in the corner of the plot and Jack was buried, wrapped in white and enclosed in a soap box. Many tears were shed over his grave and a small wooden slab was placed to mark his resting place. The children planted flower seeds around it and great gloom settled over the family.

With heavy heart Mr. Knolton went to his work that day. He plowed till noon and then unhitched and turned his horses' head toward home. As he went slowly along he heard in the distance the familiar cry of the lone crane. It made him shiver. Nearer and nearer it came until it seemed so close that he wondered at its boldness. Looking up he saw it coming straight for him. It lit a few paces from him and walked across to him in quite the same old Filled with joy Knowlton hurried home while the mild horses wondered at his haste. The children ran out to meet him, clasped the bird round the neck and kissed him. Even the pig squealed gleefully and at once renewed his attacks.

way.

As for Jack's double, the little Knoltons say that Pa dug in the garden that afternoon and that there was crane on the bill of fare at sup