pockets
and his head extinguished by his grandfather's fur cap.

Together they went toward the hen-coop and Julius Caesar Fish spoke, or
rather lisped (he had lost some of his front teeth):

"Jericho Bobth, that 'th a turkey'th egg."

"Yer don't say so?"

"I think i'th a-goin' ter hatch." No sooner said than they heard a pick
and a peck in the shell.

"Pick!" a tiny beak broke through the shell. "Peck!" more beak. "Crack!"
a funny little head, a long, bare neck, and then "Pick! Peck! Crack!"
before them stood the funniest, fluffiest brown ball resting on two weak
little legs.

"Hooray!" shouted the woolly heads.

"Peep!" said turkeykin.

"It's mine!" Jericho shouted excitedly.

"I'th Marm Pitkin'th turkey'th; she laid it there."

"It's mine, and I'm going to keep it, and next Thanksgiving I'm going
ter eat him."

"Think your ma'll let you feed him up for thath?" Julius Caesar asked,
triumphantly.

Jericho Bob's next Thanksgiving dinner seemed destined to be a dream.
His face fell.

"I'll tell yer whath I'll do," his friend said, benevolently; "I'll keep
'm for you, and Thanksgivin' we'll go halvth."

[Illustration: JERICHO BOB AND JULIUS CAESAR FISH PLANNING THEIR
THANKSGIVING DINNER.]

Jericho resigned himself to the inevitable, and the infant turkey was
borne home by his friend.

Fish, Jr., lived next door, and the only difference in the premises was
a freight-car permanently switched off before the broken-down fence of
the Fish yard; and in this car turkeykin took up his abode.

I will not tell you how he grew and more than realized the hopes of his
foster-fathers, nor with what impatience and anticipation they saw
spring, summer, and autumn pass, while they watched their Thanksgiving
dinner stalk proudly up the bare yard, and even hop across the railroad
tracks.

But, alas! the possession of the turkey brought with it strife and
discord.

Quarrels arose between the friends as to the prospective disposal of his
remains. We grieve to say that the question of who was to cook him led
to blows.

It was the day before Thanksgiving. There was a coldness between the
friends which was not dispelled by the bringing of a pint of cranberries
to the common store by Jericho, and the contributing thereto of a couple
of cold boiled sweet potatoes by Julius Caesar Fish.

The friends sat on an ancient wash-tub in the back yard, and there was a
momentary truce between them. Before them stood the freight-c