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"But grandpa, it is not ours," re monstrated Ruth. "Make it ours" shouted the selfish, avaricious old man. "Finders keep ers!" Ruth joined her sister in a hurried rush the chicken yard. Sure enough, there, huddling down in one corner, was a turkey. The roosters were re senting its intrusion by half-circling the stranger, with spurs set and eyes aslant It was as Netta had reported, a great, beautiful turkey. Ruth had never seen so royal a bird of its spe cies. It was of unusual size, stately and graceful, and its plumage had the rare iridescence in still blues and J glossy blacks as attractive as the hues of a peacock. "Why," abruptly spoke Ruth, after a cursory inspection of the fowl, "it's foot is injured." This was plain to the view, for one member was bedabbled with blood. The turkey was weary-eyed and panting, as if it mid come quite a distance. Its foot had seemingly caught in some barbwire and was badly lecerated. "The poor thing!" exclaimed gentle-hearted and pitying Ruth. "It won't do to leave it among the chickens." "Oh, no, the roosters are ready to peck at it now," joined in Netta. Finally they decided to carry it up into the barn, where there was a par-titioned-off room. As Ruth lifted the turkey it made no demur or resist ance. In fact, it seemed to recognize her as a kindly spirit and quite cud dled up in her arms. They got some hay, and in a very brief space of time the gobbler had a comfortable bed, its wounded foot salved and bound up, and a platter of corn and a pan of water within ready reach. As the days went on it became a regular pet to Ruth. She nursed- it, fed lt,"and the gratefuKbird seemed to greet her morning ana evening visits with pleasure. Every day Grandfa ther Gardner gloated over the pro- j Bpectlve feast, demanding to know 1 how the coveted fowl was fattening up. "Next Sunday, Ruth," he suggest ed, at the end of a few days, and Ruth's heart sank. Somehow the pretty fowl had appealed to her pro tection. She could not think of hav ing it killed and eaten, but the old man was imperious and obstinate. He would hear of no respite. It was Saturday afternoon. Ruth was walking slowly home from the store. The turkey was on her mind and she scarcely noticed that a hand some, well-dressed young man had caught up with her, was walking by her side and had lifted his hat cour teously, until he spoke the worcs: "Excuse me, miss, but am I headed right for Hubbard road?" "I am going in that direction my self," explained Ruth. As if he valued the tacit invitation to keep her company, the young man fell into her step, keeping up a chat ty, pleasant conversation that made her feel interested. His talk was of the county fair. He had been one of the exhibitors. Ruth was quite re luctant to pause and inform him: "This is Hubbard road." "Ah, thanks," he bowed, "and can you further direct me to the Gardner home? It is for there I am bound." "As Mr. Gardner is my grandfather and I live with him, I think I had bet ter continue to be- your guide," ex plained Ruth with a smile. "You're Miss Ruth Warren, then?" spoke the young man, in surprise and with pleasure. "Why, then, my "busi ness is. with you. It is about a tur key, Rhodame, the prize fowl in its class, which escaped when the county fair broke up, and worth many hun dred dollars for its recovery, and if you still have it, as I learned in the town- you did have it " "You have come just in time," spoke Ruth, eagerly and gladly, and then she told the story of the bird in its entirety. Mr. Paul Rivers told his-in turn. The lost turkey was a rare iowl oX. s4fc.-sAM--?fc. jfyOii.