year or so ago," said our visitor. "There's a man there named Hawkins
that's got a tame buffalo cow. Of course you might as well try to milk
an earthquake as a buffalo. Well, one day a man came along looking for
work, and Hawkins hired him. Milking-time came, and Hawkins sent the man
out to milk, but forgot to tell him about the buffalo. The man was a
little green, and it was sort of dark in the barn, and the first thing
he tried to milk was the buffalo cow. She kicked the pail through the
window, smashed the stall, and half broke the man's leg the first three
kicks. He hobbled to the house, and says to Hawkins, 'Old man, that
there high-shouldered heifer of yourn out there has busted the barn and
half killed me, and I reckon I'll quit and go back East, where the cows
don't wear sleigh-robes and kick with four feet at once.'"
Bright and early the next morning we got off again. Nothing of
importance happened that day. We were travelling through a comparatively
old-settled part of the country, and the houses were numerous. A young
Indian rode with us a few miles, but he was a very civilized sort of red
man. He had been at work on a farm down near Yankton, and was on his way
to the Ponca Reservation to visit his mother. As an Indian he rather
disgusted Ollie.
"If I was a big six-foot Indian," he said, after our passenger had gone,
"I think I'd carry a tomahawk, and wear a feather or two at least. I
don't see what's the advantage of being an Indian if you're going to act
just like a white man."
We camped that night in a beautiful nook in a bluff near a little
stream. The next day we reached Running Water. The ferry-boat was a
little thing, with a small paddle-wheel on each side operated by two
horses on tread-mills. A man stood at the stern with a long oar to steer
it. The river was not so wide here as at Yankton, but the current was
swifter, which no doubt gave the place its name. It looked very doubtful
if we would ever get across in the queer craft, but after a long time we
succeeded in doing so. It gave us a good opportunity to study the water
of the river, which looked more like milk than water, owing to the fine
clay dissolved in it. The ferryman thought very highly of the water, and
told us proudly that a glass of it would never settle and become clear.
"It's the finest drinking-water in the world," he said. "I never drink
anything else. Take a bucket of it up home every evening to drink
overnight. You don't get any of this clear well-water down me."
We tasted of it, but couldn't see that it was much different from other
water.
"Boil it down a little, and give it a lower crust, and I should think it
would make a very good custard pie," said Jack.
We found Niobrara to be a little place of a few hundred houses. We went
into camp on the edge of the town, where we staid the next day, as it
was Sunday. Early Monday morning we were out on the road which led along
the banks of the Niobrara River. We were somewhat surprised at the
smallness of this stream. It was of considerable width but very shallow,
and in many places bubbled along over the rocks like a wide brook. We
spoke of its size to a man whom we met. Said he:
"Yes, it ain't no great shakes down here around its mouth, but you just
wait till you get up in the neighborhood of its head-waters. It's a
right smart bit of a river up there."
"But I thought a river was usually bigger at its mouth than at its
source," I said.
"Depends on the country it runs through," answered the man. "Some rivers
in these parts peter out entirely, and don't have no mouth a' tall--just
go into the ground and leave a wet spot. This here Niobrara comes
through a dry country, and what the sun don't dry up and the wind blow
away the sand swallers mostly, though some water does sneak through,
after all; and in the spring it's about ten times as big as it is now.
The Niobrara goes through the sand hills. Anything that goes through
the sand hills comes out small. You fellers are going through the sand
hills--you'll come out smaller than you be now."
This was the first time we had heard of the sand hills, but after this
everybody was talking about them and warning us against them.
"Why," said one man, "you know that there Sarah Desert over in Africa
somewhere? Well, sir, that there Sarah is a reg'lar flower-garden, with
fountains a-squirting and the band playing 'Hail Columbia,' 'longside o'
the Newbraska sand hills. You'll go through 'em for a hundred miles, and
you'll wish you'd never been born!"
This was not encouraging, but as they were still several days' travel
ahead, we resolved not to worry about them.
About the middle of the afternoon we came upon a great level prairie
stretching away to the west as far as we could see. There seemed to be
but few houses, and the scattering fields of corn were stunted and dried
up. It had apparently been an extremely dry season, though the prospects
for rain that night were good, and grew better. It was hot, and a strong
south wind was blowing. Night soon began to come on, but we could find
no good camping-place. We had not passed a house for four or five miles,
nor a place where we could get water for the horses. As it grew dark,
however, it began to rain. It kept up, and increased to such an extent
that in half an hour there were pools of water standing along the road
in many places, and we decided to stop. It was wet work taking care of
the horses, but the most discouraging thing was the report from the cook
that there was no milk with which to make griddle-cakes for supper, and
as he did not know how to make anything else, the prospect was rather
gloomy. But through the rain we finally discovered a light a quarter of
a mile away, and Ollie and I started out to find it. Jack refused to go,
on the plea that he was still lame from his Yankton trip after milk.
We blundered away through the rain and darkness, and after stumbling in
a dozen holes, running into a fence, and getting tangled up in an
abandoned picket-rope, at last came up to the house. It was a little
one-room board house such as the settlers call a "shack." The door was
open, and inside we could see a man and woman and half a dozen children
and a full dozen dogs. We walked up, and when the man saw us he called
"Come in!" tossed two children on the bed in the corner, picked up their
chairs, which were home-made, and brought them to us.
[Illustration: "WET, AIN'T IT?"]
"Wet, ain't it?" he exclaimed. "Rainy as the day Noah yanked the
gang-plank into the Ark. I was a-telling Martha there was a right smart
chance of a shower this afternoon. What might you-uns' names be, and
where might you be from, and where might you be going?"
We told him all about ourselves, and he went on:
"Rainy night. Too late to help the co'n, though. Co'n's poor this year;
reckon we'll have to live on taters and hope. Tater crop ain't no great
shakes, though. Nothing much left but hope, and dry for that. Reckon
I'll go back to old Missouri in the spring, and work in a saw-mill. No
saw-mills here,'cause there ain't nothing to saw. Hay don't need sawing.
Martha," he added, turning to his wife, "was it you said our roof didn't
need mending?"
"I said it did need it a powerful sight," answered the woman, as she put
another stick of hay in the stove, and a stream of rain-water sputtered
in the fire.
"Mebby you're right," said the man. "There's enough dry spots for the
dogs and children, but when we have vis'tors somebody has got to get
wet. Reckon I oughter put on two shingles for vis'tors to set under. You
fellers will stay to supper, of course. We 'ain't got much but bacon and
taters, but you're powerful welcome."
"No," I said, "we really mustn't stop. What we wanted was to see if we
couldn't get a little milk from you."
"Well, I'll be snaked!" exclaimed the man. "That makes me think I 'ain't
milked the old cow yet."
"I milked her more'n two hours ago, while you was cleaning your rifle,"
said his wife.
"That so?" replied the man. "Where's the milk?"
The woman looked around a little. "Reckon the dogs or the young 'uns
must 'a' swallered it. 'Tain't in sight, nohow."
"Oh, we can milk 'er again," exclaimed the man. "Old Spot sometimes
comes down heavier on the second or third milking than she does on the
first."
He took a gourd from a shelf, and told us to "come on," and started out.
He wore a big felt hat, but no coat, and he was barefooted. Just outside
the door stood a bedstead and two or three chairs. "We move 'em out in
the day-time to make more room," explained the man. The rain was still
pouring down. The man took our lantern and began looking for the cow. He
soon found her, and while I held the lantern, and Ollie our jug, he went
down on his knees beside the cow and began to milk with one hand,
holding the gourd in the other. The cow stood perfectly still, as if it
was no new thing to be milked the second time. We had on rubber coats,
but the man was without protection, and as he sat very near the cow a
considerable stream ran off of her hip bone and down the back of his
neck. When the gourd was full he poured it in our jug, and at my
offering to pay for it he was almost insulted. "Not a cent, not a cent,"
he exclaimed. "Al'ays glad to 'commodate a neighbor. Good-night; coming
down in the morning to swap hosses with you."
He went back to the house, and we started for the wagon.
"He wouldn't have got quite so wet if he hadn't kept so close to the
cow," said Ollie, as we walked along.
"What he needs," said I, "are eave-troughs on his cow."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
HOW CAPTAIN JACK GOT HIS TITLE.
"Captain Jack," said Tommie, as he and Bobbie drew near to the Old
Sailor at the sea-shore, shortly after their arrival, "you've told us a
great many stories, but you never told us how you came to be a Captain.
Was it for bravery in battle?"'
"No, my lad," replied the old Captain. "I've been brave enough in battle
to be an Admiral, but I never got no promotion for it. It was indoorance
won my title for me."
"Endurance?" said Bobbie. "That's as good as bravery, isn't it?"
"Better," said Captain Jack. "A great deal better. A great many brave
people give out when they oughtn't to, but indoorin' people never gives
out."
"Nor in, neither," said Tommie, "I guess."
"I guess likewise," said Captain Jack. "It wuz this way: In eighteen
seventy-one--no, I guess it was eighteen seventy-three--no--waal I
never--when was it?"
"Make it 1874," said Bobbie. "Three and one make four."
"That's when it was," said Captain Jack. "In eighteen seventy-four I
shipped as a able-bodied seaman before the mast with Captain William
Bilkes, of East Gloucester, Massachusetts, of the brig _Peter J._, of
Nantucket. The _Peter J._ was a pretty good boat. They called her a
brig, but she wasn't nothin' in particular, as far as I could see. She
was a composite boat--like them fortygrafts. The owners of her bought
her stern in New York, an' fastened it onto the bow of a wrack they'd
purchased in a junk-shop at Plymouth. The rudder wuz a relict of a
defunct Spanish man-o'-war, an' the masts wuz bought at a bargain sale
o' ship stuffs at Phillydelphy. Whar the cabin come from I dun'no', but
it was amatoor from way back.
"When I fust seed the ship I says, No, I don't want none o' her in mine.
I'm fond o' swimmin', but I wants it as a diwersion an' not fer bizness.
But Cap'n Bilkes he says to me, says he: 'Jack you're the best sailor
afloat, an' I needs yer. Come with me, an' I'll give yer two thousand
dollars a month!'
"'Cap'n,' says I, 'that ain't what I gen'rally gets, but to oblige ye
I'll come at them figgers;' an' I went, not askin' at all where we was
a-goin' to go to.
"Waal, we sets out, me before the mast with the others, an' the Cap'n
an' two mates, four midshipmen, three soupycargoes, an' others behind
the mast.
"First day out, down comes the Cap'n with the mumps. Dies. Chucked
overboard.
"Second day out, down comes the two mates with measles. Dies. Buried at
sea.
"Third day out, down comes the soupycargoes with whoopin'-cough. Dies.
All's over.
"Fourth day out, down comes the hull crew, except me, with shycumotis,
due to havin' eat too much tomatoes. Dies. Nothin' left aboard but me
with the _Mary Jones_--"
"_Peter J._," said Bobbie.
"The _Peter J._," observed Captain Jack. "Git 'em mixed sometimes;
they's so many boats, I 'ain't more trouble to-- There was me all alone
by myself aboard the _Henry Q._ to bring her into port, loaded as she
was with olives an' fried potaters.
"It was a tarrable responsibility, but I took it on. So, my boys, there
bein' no soupycargoes, nor no mates, nor no cap'ns, nor no nothin' save
me an' the decks onto the ship, I 'p'inted myself commander-in-chief,
an' thar ye be."
"It's very interesting," said Tommie.
"You bet it is!" said Captain Jack; "but it ain't half so interesting to
me as a box o' imported cigars would be."
And the boys walked off, and later on Captain Jack received a box of
imported cigars--"just," as Tommie said, "to interest him."
A SMALL ELECTRIC-LIGHT OUTFIT.
HOW TO MAKE THE BATTERY AND HOW TO SET IT UP.
BY THOMAS R. TALTAVALL.
All young readers of HARPER'S ROUND TABLE are probably familiar with the
appearance of the electric light--that wonderful little glass bulb that
we see in stores, hotels, theatres, etc.--and no doubt many have
wondered what causes the hairlike loop inside the bulb to become so
brilliantly luminous. Electricity does it; but no one knows what
electricity is, not even the most advanced scientific thinker of the
day. We know how to produce it and how to handle it, but further than
that we are still in ignorance.
The electricity necessary to light an incandescent lamp, such as we see
in stores, etc., is generated in a machine called a _dynamo_. The dynamo
is driven by a steam-engine, and produces electric current in large
quantities for electric-lighting on a large scale. Electricity can also
be produced by a battery, but in very small quantity as compared with
that produced by a dynamo; and in order to light a house by electricity
from a battery, so many cells would be required that it would be
decidedly inconvenient and troublesome to keep them in order.
It may interest the boys among the readers of HARPER'S ROUND TABLE to
know that with a little ingenuity a battery can be constructed by
themselves which will give sufficient current to light a small electric
lamp. Such an outfit is full of interest and instructive to young
people, and its use creates a desire for a wider knowledge of this most
fascinating subject.
Electric lamps are made of all sizes, from the size of a pea to that of
the lamp we see every day and are most familiar with, and they are used
for a great variety of purposes. The lamps referred to here are those
having a pear-shaped glass bulb, and which are known as incandescent
lamps. The kind we see in the streets, giving a very powerful light, are
called arc-lights. With this class of lights, however, we will have
nothing to do here. The object of this article is to give plain
directions for the construction of a battery to light a small electric
lamp. Some boys may think that because electricity is something
mysterious it must be very difficult to produce; but that is not the
case. A battery is easily made, and by following the directions here
given we can produce just the same kind of light we see in stores and
other public places, only on a smaller scale.
We must provide three things, namely, the battery, the lamp, and the
wire to conduct the current from the battery to the lamp.
First, the battery. A cell of battery, such as we shall need, is made up
of four constituent parts--the glass jar, a rod of zinc, a couple of
carbon rods, and the solution in which the carbons and zincs are to be
immersed. Two such cells will be needed to give a brilliant light.
For our purpose ordinary glass tumblers will answer very well for the
jars. Tumblers are suggested, because almost every boy can obtain his
mother's consent to use a couple for this purpose.
The next things to provide are the zincs and carbons. The zinc may be of
any shape, flat, square, or round, but we have selected the round form
for our battery because it is easily obtained, and more easily handled
and prepared by the amateur for an experimental battery. All
electrical-supply houses keep Leclanche zincs, which are rods of that
metal about 3/8 of an inch in diameter and 9 inches long. One such zinc
cut in two will give us two pieces each 4-1/2 inches long, which will be
ample for our battery.
Carbons, like zincs, are made in many forms, but for our purpose we have
also selected the round shape because they are likewise more easily
obtained. Such carbons as are used in electric-arc street lights will
answer very well indeed. These carbons are usually plated with a thin
coating of copper, which must be removed before we can use them for our
battery. This can often be done by scraping the copper off. Should that
fail to completely remove it, nitric acid will; but I would not advise
using acid if the copper can be removed the other way. Nitric acid is
dangerous stuff to have around on account of the fumes it gives off, and
its corrosive propensities when it comes in contact with fabrics and
almost every other substance.
Having procured your carbons, cut them off the same length as the zincs,
which can be easily done with a scroll or any other small saw. Be
careful, though, because carbon is rather brittle, and will break rather
than bend. The zincs and carbons should be of the same length, and
should be at least an inch higher than the top of the tumbler. Two
carbons and one zinc will be required for each cell.
The next step in our work is to provide means for suspending the zincs
and carbons in the tumblers. This will require a little carpenter-work.
Get two pieces of well-seasoned and very dry wood (any kind will do),
each about 1-1/2 inches wide, 4 inches long, and 3/8 or 1/2 an inch
thick, and bore three holes in each in the manner shown in Fig. 3. The
holes should be, as nearly as possible, of the same diameter as the
zincs and carbons, and the middle one should be midway between the ends
of the wooden "hanger." The zincs and carbons are to be placed in these
holes, and suspended in the tumblers as shown in Fig. 4, the zinc rod
being placed in the centre, with one carbon rod on each side.
We are now ready to attach the wires to the zincs and carbons for the
purpose of conveying the current from the battery to the lamp. Use No.
18 braided wire, which can be obtained of any dealer in electrical
supplies. Any one caring to go to the extra expense, however, can get a
silk-covered cord which is very neat and convenient, because two wires
are twisted together, forming one cord. Each conductor of this cord is
made up of several fine copper wires, instead of one solid wire, which
makes it very flexible. But whether the cord or separate single wires
are used, the connections with the zincs and carbons are the same. It is
understood, of course, that it is necessary to have two wires to connect
the battery and lamp. One end of each of the wires is connected with the
lamp, and the other ends with the battery--one with the zincs and the
other with the carbons.
[Illustration: FIG. 1.]
Fig. 1 shows how these battery connections must be made. One of the lamp
wires is connected with the two carbons of cell No. 1 and the zinc of
cell No. 2, and the other wire is connected with the zinc of cell No. 1
and the two carbons of cell No. 2.
To make these connections, have a sufficient length at one end of each
of the wires to wrap four or five times around the carbons and zinc,
allowing a little slack between them. Wrap as firmly as possible so as
to insure a tight joint, as nothing is more wasteful of current than a
loose connection. We need all the current for our lamp. Before wrapping
the wire it should be well scraped and cleaned, in order to secure a
good connection with the zinc and carbons. A dirty connection is as bad
as a loose one.
Having connected the two wires with the carbons and zincs in the manner
shown, in Fig. 1, we are now ready to connect the lamp. Remove the
braid, or covering, of the free ends of the two wires for about two or
three inches, and after scraping and cleaning the ends of the wire,
twist them tightly with the two wires projecting from the lamp; then all
the connections are made. If you now place the zincs and carbons in the
solution (which I will presently refer to more particularly), your
battery will produce a current which will make the little lamp give a
light as sparkling as a diamond. The lamp is the most important part of
the outfit, and cannot be made by amateurs. It must be bought of a
dealer.
[Illustration: FIG. 2.]
Fig. 2 is an illustration of a lamp that will give a light of 1/2
candle-power or more with the battery described above. This illustration
is the actual size of a 1/2 candle-power lamp. The lamp is a small glass
bulb, inside of which is a short length of carbon in the shape of a
small arch. This carbon is connected with the wires running through and
outside of the glass bulb, and when the current flows through the wires
the carbon becomes "incandescent"--that is, white-hot. This carbon is in
a vacuum, the air having been exhausted from the bulb in the process of
manufacture. The vacuum is essential. Should there be none, and the
space be filled with air, the carbon would be destroyed by the oxygen in
the air the moment the current rendered it incandescent.
In handling the lamp while making connections with the battery wires,
care must be taken that the lamp wires are not broken off close to the
glass by too much twisting. Should this happen, the lamp would be
rendered useless, because then we could not get a connection with the
carbon filament.
All the connections having been made, everything is ready to charge the
battery. Charging means to fill the cells with the proper chemical
solutions which, in their action upon the zinc and carbons, produce the
electric current. The chemicals necessary to make the solution for the
battery can be bought at any drug-store, but those of our young friends
who live in cities can buy the battery fluid all ready prepared at any
electrical-supply house, if they do not care to bother with making it
themselves. I would advise making it fresh, however, because it gives
young experimenters some experience and something to think about. The
fluid is called in the trade "electropoin fluid," and is sold by the
pint, quart, gallon, or any other quantity, by the regular dealers. All
batteries using this fluid are generally called "Electropoin" batteries.
To make this fluid the following ingredients are necessary: bichromate
of potash, sulphuric acid, and water. Bichromate of potash comes in
lumps, and is of a dark red or wine color; it can be bought at any
drug-store. Sulphuric acid can also be bought at any drug-store; it must
be handled very carefully, as it has a disagreeable habit of burning,
and otherwise destroying almost everything it comes in contact with.
Glass is one of the few substances it does not attack, therefore it is
safe in a glass bottle.
[Illustration: FIG. 3.]
The following is a receipt for preparing electropoin fluid: take 1-1/2
lbs. of bichromate of potash, and after crushing the lumps as fine as
possible, dissolve it in 2 quarts of boiling water. After this solution
has become cold, add to it a solution composed of 1 quart of sulphuric
acid and 3 quarts of water, and thoroughly mix the two. After the
mixture is cool it is ready for use. This will be enough for several
charges of the battery. A smaller quantity may be made by proportionate
reduction in quantity of the several ingredients.
It is a very strange fact that pouring sulphuric acid into water
produces no different effect than if the acid were so much water, but if
the water is poured upon the acid a greatly different effect takes
place. Heat is very rapidly developed, causing the liquids to boil
violently, and sputtering and scattering in every direction. Care must
be taken, therefore, to _pour the acid into the water_.
[Illustration: FIG. 4.]
When the electropoin fluid is cool we can go ahead and set up our
battery. Place the zincs and carbons in position in their wooden
supports, Fig. 3, and suspend them in the tumblers, as shown in Fig. 4;
pour the bichromate solution into the tumblers until it reaches within
3/4 inch or 1 inch of the top. The wire connections should be made with
the zinc and carbons before the battery is set up, because to attempt to
make them after the solution is in the tumblers you cannot help spilling
the fluid. And I might caution my young friends right here to be careful
not to spill any of the solution on their clothes or on the carpet, as
it eats holes in fabrics.