W.N.UL
ttttVtCt. ^•>3
Cryh *d
CHAPTER III—Continued
For the first time since starting
on this journey, Nancy forgot her
homesickness and was thrilled. She
drew a breath born of both amaze
ment and delight To one whose en
tire life had been spent either In a
crowded city or surrounded by the
sheltering, green hills of New Eng
land, such limitless space was al
most unbelievable. For a time she
watched this unfamiliar world slip
by, too awed for anything save
exclamations, tt all seemed won
derful ; a herd of grazing cattle—a
clump of cottonwooda beside an Ir
rigating ditch—a school house set
in curious Isolation considering Its
purpose; and In the distance
patches of green about some lone
ly ranch.
Even Jack was silent, too Inter
ested, perhaps, to comment; bat
at last he aald: “Let's dress, Nan
cy. I want to get ont and sniff
this air at the next station. Break
fast’s at Syracuse, anyhow, and
aayl I think the sun looks brighter
here than It does at home."
This was no Idle guess. The sun
was brighter—the air more spar
kling. Nancy admitted that she
had never breathed such air. They
cut short their breakfast in order
to have more moments to pace the
platform. “And In no time now,"
said Jack as they swung reluctant
ly aboard the train again, “we'll be
In Colorado. I wonder who Cousin
Columbine will send to meet us.”
Nance smiled.
“Do you remember her first let
ter? I was to sit quietly In the
station until called for!”
“So you were! Do you suppose
they’ll keep us waiting long? Gee,
Nance! 1 Just can’t realize that
this long trip Is nearly over.”
Neither could Nance; but all too
soon they found themselves wait
ing their turn to leave the train.
Nancy, standing behind Jack In the
narrow passage, realized suddenly
that the hands clutching her pock
etbook were trembling. Indeed,
all the fear that had gripped her
on leaving home was back again as
she emerged Into the sunlight and
Joined her brother on the platform.
jack, smiling a negative to an
approaching red cap, rescued their
bags from a pile of luggage, and
moved toward the station—a beau
tiful station that made Nance think
of an English manor house. To the
west, against an .unbelievably blue
sky, towered snow-capped Pike’s
Peak, seeming so near In the clear
atmosphere, that the girl felt she
could reach out and touch It.
. "This place certainly looks civil
ized enough,” she observed breath
lessly as Jack dropped the bags
and stood looking about In search
of the expected escort
“Civilized 1” Her brother laughed.
"What did you think you’d see?
Wild Indians? Of course It’s civil
ized; but—for the love o’ Mike,
Nance, look there 1”
Nance looked. An Indian squaw
was coming toward them, her
shoulders covered by a gay, striped
shawl, a wee black-eyed papoose
strapped to her back. Said Jack,
as she disappeared around acorner:
“That relic of old times must have
been ordered for our especial, bene
fit I didn't suppose they carried
their kids like that in these days.”
“But she had on silk stockings,
Jack, and high-heeled slippers 1
They looked so Incongruous with
all the rest of her. Well, that’ll be
something to write home about. I
wonder If we ought to go Inside.
Do you know, I—I feel sort of
nervous. I wish whoeyer’s coming
for us would come and get It over
with.”
"Let’s stay right here, this air’s
so marvelous. Do you suppose they
often get such days In winter?
Watch out. Sis!” Jack lowered his
voice. “Catch onto the old dame In
the fireman’s shirt"
Nancy smiled, eyes following her
brother's. A white-haired woman
had just emerged from the station.
She wore a broad-brimmed black
hat mnch like a man’s, while her
long black cape, being unfastened,
revealed a middy blouse of flaming
red. Her feet were clad In stout,
black, laced boots, above which an
Inch or two of cotton stocking met
a dark cloth skirt An eccentric fig
ure, taken'as a whole. “And yet”
Nance whispered as she passed
them hurriedly, “she has an air
about her. See what I mean.
Jack?"
"Yeah," he admitted, “but I bet
she’s a crank of some sort, Just the
same. You know, what they call
a—a character. You’d think—”
Jack paused. The eccentric lady
had turned and was approaching
rapidly. “I’m looking for two
young people by the name of Nel
son," she said crisply'. "Have I
found them?”
. The question was as unique as
the woman; but In that moment her
somewhat mannish countenance
was lighted by a contagious smile
Jack actually grinned, while Nance
responded quickly: “It looks as If
you had I Did Cousin Columbine
send you to meet us?”
A quick nod answered her.
“I dare say you’re hungry as two
bears, and so am L Come In and
eat. These eastern trains always
arrive at meal times.”
Still talking, she led them toward
the station restaurant and motioned
to seats at the counter.
“No use In paying a dollar for a
dinner when you can get a hot roast
beef sandwich for fifty cents. Do
you like roast beef? In my opinion
there’s nothing better. Do you want
coffee7 They say It’s bad for peo
ple but I’ve drunk It every day for
more than fifty years and am still
able to get about."
Struck dumb by this breezy Indi
vidual, Jack stifled a smile and gave
his sister a disconcerting nudge.
Their escort had hung her cape on
a nearby hook, and was a notice
able figure In her broad felt hat
and scarlet middy. People looked
at her, mildly amused; but there
was nobility In her weather-beaten
countenance, and her smile was
winning.
Lunch was quickly served, and
there being no privacy at the coun
ter, was consumed in silence save
for a few questions regarding their
Journey. As the train pulled away
from the station, both- boy and girl
turned to watch It, feeling a subtle,
regretful twinge, as If some good
friend were deserting them; and as
Nance resumed her meal their com
panion asked: “Sorry to see the
train depart without you?"
“I suppose I am,” replied the girl,
and added at this unexpected ln«
sight of her mood: “You see. It
makes me feel as if the last bridge
behind us was burning. Every
thing’s so different from Massachu
setts; and not knowing Cousin
Columbine at all I’m silly enough to
be a little nervous.”
The woman smiled one of her
nice smiles.
“You needn’t be. I don’t think
you’ll find Columbine Nelson hard
to live with.”
"Have you known her long?”
asked Jack, hoping to secure a bit
of light on the character of this
unseen relative.*
"All my life. She was born In
Pine Ridge seventy-odd years ago
In a covered wagon.”
“I know,” said Nance. “It’s one
of our family stories, that, and how
she happened to be named.”
“Is It indeed I” The woman tipped
their waitress and glanced up
quickly. “Oh, there you are, Mark!”
The lunch room was almost empty
now, and as she slipped from the
high stool Nance saw a young fel
low In a sombrero, which he re
moved as he caught sight of their
companion.
Jack stole an amused glance at
Nancy—a glance she had no trouble
In Interpreting. It said as plainly
as If he’d spoken: “Enter the for
bidden boy friend 1 Take care, Sis I”
It was Jack's glance, not the sud
den arrival of this unexpected
youth which made her color rise,
and, suddenly, the girl was furious
with her brother,
“This Is Mark Adam, who is to
drive us up,” explained the lady.
“Mark, these young folks are Nancy
and Jack Nelson. Where are your
trunks, Jack? I presume you've
both brought luggage. And where’s
Matthew, Mark?"
The young man smiled, showing
strong, white teeth and a crinkle
of humor around the eyes.
"Glad to know you.” He stretched
out a welcoming hand. “Mat's out
side on the truck—too bashful to
come In and meet the—er lady.
That’s It” (as Jack produced the
checks). “You'll And the car
parked back of the station. I’ll be
there as soon as I help Matt with
the baggage.”
‘‘Mark’s a good boy," observed
their new acquaintance as the driver
strode away. “He and his brother
came down to the creamery today
(they run a dairy ranch), so I roped
them In to drive us and get your
trunks. There Isn’t a better driver
In Pine Ridge than Mark Adams,
Nancy, so you’ve no call to feel
nervous going up the pass. Here
we are.” They had left the station
and were crossing a broad parking
space. “Youlre to ride with Mark,
Jack. You boys must get acquaint
ed, and I want a chance to get ac
quainted with your sister.'*
Jack grinned as he helped them
to their places. Nincy said, as she
sat down beside the eccentric lady
whom she was beginning to like im
mensely: "It’s queer, but I feel ac
quainted with you already; and do
you realize we don’t even know
your name?"
The lined face brightened humor
ously.
“The truth Is, I never tell my
name If I can avoid It That's
the only grudge I’ve got against
my parents. I’ve always wondered
if their brains weren’t affected by
the altitude when they Inflicted
such a misnomer on a helpless In
fant. My name, you nice young
things, Is Columbine Nelson !”
If their unconventional relative
had set a bomb and blown the old
touring car Into a million bits, she
wouldn’t have created more sur
prise. Jack paused, one foot on
the running board, and stared at
her; while Nancy gasped: “But—
but you can’t bel Why Cousin Co
lumbine's a feeble old lady over
seventy 1”
“Over seventy, I’ll admit,” alleged
their companion, her eyes twinkling,
“but not so feeble as she led you to
believe. Stop staring at me, Jack. If
It's the middy blouse, you'll just have
to get used to it A middy’s a life
saver In a place like Pine Ridge,
where there's no dressmaker. I
welcomed them with joy when they
came Into fashion years ago; and I
shall continue to wear them, fash
ion or no fashion, as long as they
can be bought by mall. The red
ones are for gala occasions like the
present. Usually I wear blue. Here
comes our driver. Will you kindly
testify that my name Is Nelson,
Mark? These young folks seem to
be unbelieving.”
Mark Adam laughed as he swung
Into the driver’s seat.
“It is unless she got married
when I dropped her at the court
house two hours back,” he stated.
“I saw that cop give you an admir
ing glance. Miss Columbine.”
“Admiring!" Columbine Nelson
sniffed contemptuously. “It’s more
likely he was thinking: ‘There’s
that old freak come down from Pine
llldge again.’ Stop at the Cash and
Carry for a box of canned stuff,
Mark 1 and then head for home or
Matthew wilt get there first and
not know where to put the lug
gage.”
“Can’t Aurora tell him?”
They had turned Into a street
that faced the mountain, from
which Nancy could hardly take her
eyes.
I "Not Aurora Tubbs,” Cousin
Columbine was saying. "She’s so
flustered at the Idea of having com
pany that like as not she’d have
him put those trunks In the bath
room. We have a bathroom, Nancy,
which no doubt you’ll be relieved
to hear. I went to the extravagance
In 1914, Just before the great war
started over In Europe. I remember
the date because I was christening
the tub when the news came, and
Aurora (her sister married a Ger
man, Otto Weismuller, up at Crip
ple Creek and as good a fellow as
ever lived), came rushing upBtalrs
with the paper. She actually
pounded on the door, and shouted:
‘Miss Columbine! Miss Columbine!
Don’t bother to wash. The Germans
have started fighting. Do you sup
pose our Otto will have to go ?’ ’’
This brought a laugh; and Mark
said dryly: "I didn’t know we’d
ever had a christening In Pine
Ridge, Miss Columbine. Too bad
that party was Interrupted by a
-war!’’
“It wasn’t,” retorted the old lady.
“1 called back: ‘Keep still, Au
rora. This Is the first tub bath I've
had since my mother washed me In
a tin dish pan with only a covered
wagon for privacy, and I wouldn’t
cut It short If the whole German
army was on the lawn.’ Here comes
Matthew now. Slow down. I’m go
ing to stop him.”
She signaled wildly, and a truck
drew up beside them, though It
seemed to Nancy that both vehicle
and the driver did so with reluct
ance. The latter started to remove
his hat, found he had none on, and
blushed furiously. The truck emit
ted a sort of groan.
“If you reach home first, Mat
thew, Just sit and wait till we get
there,” ordered Miss Columbine.
"You can tell Aurora I said to give
you a slice of chocolate cake. And
this Is as good a time as any to
make you acquainted with my
cousins, Nancy and Jack Nelson.
Don’t drive recklessly up the pass
and lose those trunks over the edge,
will you? I dare say they’re valu
able, and 1 don't trust your driving
as I do Mark’s.”
"Yes’m,” responded Matthew
nervously. “Pleased to meet you.
I'll be careful. Miss Columbine.”
He reached for hla hat again,
found It still missing, blushed red
der, and.started the truck with such,
a Jolt that empty milk cans careened
THE STORY FROM THE BEGINNING *
Ruined, financially, by the atook market crash, James Nelson, Boston
merchant, breaks the news to his household. Nance, bis daughter, nineteen,
is on the verge of her Introduction to society. A short time before, an
elderly cousin of Nelson's, Columbine, had written suggesting that Nance
come to her at Pine Ridge, Colo., as a paid companion. The offer had been
regarded as a Joke. Jack, Nancy’s seventeen-year-old brother, urges her
to accept Cousin Golumblne's proposition, thus relieving their father of a
certain financial burden, and offering to go with her so that she will not
feel too lonely. The girl does not like the Idea, but agrees that Jack write
to C°usln Columbine, and they will await her answer. Columbine wires
welcome to both of them, an* despite some misgivings It Is Arranged that
the two shall go.
drunkenly In the rear. Such con
fusion amused his brother; and a
quiet laugh escaped from Nancy.
She said: “He’s really bashful. Isn't
he?"
“Born that way," responded Cous
in Columbine.
“And so good looking!" observed
Nance.
They had stopped at a traffic sig
nal, and their driver turned his
head a little to say over his shoul
der: “The family beauty."
Nance couldn’t restrain a giggle,
and Jack laughed outright; but
Cousin Columbine remarked severe
ly: “If you expect me, or anybody
In Pine Ridge to contradict you,
young man, you’ll be disappointed.
In my day It wasn’t considered
modest to fish for compliments.
The green light’s on, boy. Why
don’t you get along?”
“Too crushed to move,” he told
her; and proceeded to start the en
gine as quietfy as Its age allowed.
“I’ll park somewhere on a side
street. Miss Columbine. There’s no
space in front of the ’Cash and
Carry’; but I’ll walk over and get
your box. It’s only half a block.”
Eager to stretch his legs. Jack
ofTered assistance; and as the boys
strode oft the old lady remarked
critically: “Jack’s thin. Isn’t he?
Grown too fast, most likely, and
been cooped up In school. A year
In the open will do wonders for
him."
Nance thought, with sudden con
sternation: “A yearl Does she ex
pect us to stay that long?” but
“Stop Staring at Me, Jack.”
managed to answer: “That’* why
Mother let him come. The doctor
said he needed outdoor life more
than a diploma."
"Sensible man! All this educa
tion business Is stuff and nonsense
unless It fits a boy to earn his liv
ing, which nine times out of ten It
doesn't do. Look at Matthew
Adam. His people scrimped and
saved to send him to college. I
don’t say be got nothing out of It;
but here he Is back In Pine Ridge
running a dairy ranch1 Tell me,
child, has your father really lost his
money 7’
‘‘Most of It, I’m afraid. We’re
renting the city house and the fam
ily will live at Edgemere for the
present It's Mother’s old home,
but Aunt Judy owns It."
“Who’s Aunt Judy?”
"I forgot you, didn’t know all
about us,” replied the glrL “Aunt
Judy Is mother's younger sister.
She’s lived with us for. years, and
took care of us children when we
were little.”
“And Louise, your father’s sister,
lives with you, too.”
“Yes. She tenches In a very high
hat girls’ school.”
"High-hat?” echoed Cousin Col
umbine, plainly mystified.
Nancy laughed, and explained:
“That’s only slang. Perhaps It’s an
eastern variety that hasn’t reached
Pine Ridge. It means swell. Cous
in Columbine—awfully stylish, you
know. Aunt Louise Is clever. She's
earned a good salary for years.”
“Well, we live to learn,” admit
ted the old lady briskly. “High-hat I
It’s really expressive when you
come to analyze it. So you’re three
families under the same roof. I
should think you'd fight like cats
and dogs.”
The girl laughed again.
“We don’t, honestly; though Aunt
Louise thinks Aunt Judy spoils us,
and sometimes they scrap about It
—that Is, as much as anyone can
scrap with Aunt Judy."
“It’s plain to see which Is the
favorite aunt, my dear 1”
“But you mustn’t think we don’t
appreciate Aunt Louise,” spoke up
Nance quickly. “She’s a dear, but
Aunt Judy understands us better and
takes our side. If Aunt Louise had
had her way we’d never in this
world have seen Pike’s Peak I”
Her eyes crept upward to the
snow-capped mountain, and the old
lady asked: “Was It worth the Jour
ney!”
“It’s wonderful I Prom the train
It was the least bit disappointing,
perhaps because we were so far
away; but here It’s marvelous and
—and so near!”
“That’s the atmosphere. Every
thing looks nearer than it la—even
the stars. But I like the Peak bet
ter from our side, my dear, and I
think you wllL Where are those
boys! They're certainly taking
their time So your Aunt Louise
opposed your coming! Will yon ex
plain wbyt”
(TO Bn OOMTUfUBD.)
Howe About:
Women
Wives
Good Behavior
C>. Bell Syndicate.—WJTU Service.
By ED HOWE
THE roving correspondent of the
Kansas City Star once called on
me and said: “The women all say
you are a woman hater. How about
it?” ... I said, I wasn’t, and that
all the women didn’t say so. In sup
port of this statement, I gave him
a letter from a woman In Texas,
but he made no reference to It In
the two columns he wrote about me.
The woman said: “I am barely nine
teen, and have a deformed body. I
am familiar with you through the
Kansas City Star, and I want to
give the devil his due, for you are
the writer who has done me most
good. Being a cripple, I have a
wicked and fast temper, but you
have taught me to control It for my
own benefit. Your constant teaching
that one should behave for one’s
own snke, as a matter of profit, be
cause it is finally the easiest and
best way, I have been able to un
derstand and practice with more
success than any other.”
• * »
Early man had a strong disposi
tion to whip his wife, and often
did. I have seen a picture In an
old book of an angry husband en
tering the house carrying a switch,
and of his wife cringing nnd beg
ging for mercy, as I did as a child
In the presence of an angry father.
(In this old picture, also. Is the
figure of a woman evidently the
wife’s mother, who begged for
mercy, too, ns my mother begged
for mercy for me.)
Wives have taken the switch
from the hands of brutal husbands.
Men have granted equal rights, but
the women are still screaming as
though regularly whipped. Men of
today submit to the gross absurdity
of police women, stateswomen, but
the women ore ns busy as ever In
telling of wrongs long since reme
died.
As far back as the time of Sile
rius women, Insisted on rights that
were actually wrongs. Sllerlus, In
his memoirs, tells of one of his
wives going barelegged, although
she was of coiflilderahle age, and It
didn’t look well. Sllerlus objected
to the, custom. Any reproof of
women today sets them screaming
as though the reproof were a beat
ing.
• * *
Men of the present generation
are the heirs of the experience of
men of an older time. Thus we have
learned of the greater convenience
of obtaining water by turning a
tap, Instead of a more troublesome
Journey, to a spring. The modern
bank, hotel, railroad and school are
merely cogs In the wheel of civiliza
tion as It goes round endlessly, and
is slowly Improved because of the
disposition of men to seek greater
conveniences. A clean, dependable
man Is a development of good be
havior, as Is a useful mnchine or
system lightening our labors and
our worries.
• • •
If I should marry agnln (I have
about as much notion of It as of
being f>orn again) I think I should
relieve my friends of the bother of
a public ceremony. In our extrava
gant and wasteful American way,
marrying has become more trouble
some than a Are. The bride Is worn
tSOtT the father bankrupt, and all
those who read the prenuptial
notices In the newspapers gi'e dis
gusted. There Is also the trouble of
attendance on the ceremony and re
ception, to sny nothing of presents.
Men especially do not wish to at
tend or buy, and for days previously
are glowered at by wives who know
they are trying to get out of It; for
wives love weddings.
Why would It not be a good idea
to give half the present amount
wasted on weddings to starving old
soldiers, the poor, union labor or
ganlz.atlons, railroads and bankers
in distress.
It would be a great convenience
to me If some of the army of writers
novg useless would devote their
time to reading, and print collec
tions of the occasional good things
found In novels, essays, histories
and the mass of writing of every
kind. I thank .Tames Truslow Adnms
for a sentiment he lately buried In
a book, and which I happened to
encounter: “The wisdom of the
past,” he says, “Is not to be undone
In the present by a few telephones,
motor cars or radios.”
• • •
One of the best of our monthly
magazines has a board of editors
to decide what shall go In, and
what kept out. These men must be
among the best and most experi
enced of editors. In h recent Issue
one of them writes an article ex
plaining how members of the board
make their selections. I should say
the board acted wisely in deciding
on this article forjpubllcation, since
It interested me, and probably In
terested others; here was first class
editorial Judgment. But the same
Issue contained an article I have
decided ts the weakest I have ever
seen printed In a publication of dis
tinction; so far aa I am able to
judge as reader and editor, it failed
at every point • .. The work of the
best men Is frequently so weak that
it amazes ma.
Before and After Shearing.
Prepared by National Geographic Boclaty.
Washington, D. C.—WNU Service.
SHEEP owners of the United
States produce about 850,000,
000 pound* of wool annually,
or enough to supply each Inhabitant
of this country with a wool garment
weighing nearly three pounds.
The lowly sheep, from which
comes the world's yearly wool sup
ply of slightly less than three and
a third billion pounds, Is no re
spector of persons or geography. A
meeting of all the world's wool
growers would reveal a motley gath
ering of all creeds and colors, from
Icelanders to South Africans, from
Canadians to Argentines, from Si
berians to Indians. There also
would be present natives of many
Islands of the seas.
The sheep-raising Industry Is pret
ty well confined to the temperate
cones, however, though some flocks
graze near the Equator In high al
titudes, and others are found In the
Arctic, where there Is sufficient for
age.
The world’s sheep population is
more than 500,000,000—a quarter as
great as the human population. Aus
tralia, although a comparative
youngster In the wool Industry, Is
the world's leading wool producer.
India and China are the outstand
ing sheep countries of Asia. Ar
gentina and Uruguay have the
heaviest sheep population In South
America. The greatest concentra
tion of sheep herds In Africa Is along
the Mediterranean coastal zone from
Gibraltar to Tunisia, and In South
Africa. Every country of Europe
raises sheep, but In Norway, Swe
den and Finland there are few
flocks, scattered over wide areaa.
The United States, with upward of
50,000,000 head of sheep, Is the only
country In North America that has
taken to wool growing In a big way.
Where America’s Sheep Are.
About four-fifths of the sheep In
the United States graze In the moun
tains and on the plateaus and plains
west of the Mississippi river. Texas,
which has been dubbed the "Cotton
State” and the "Sulphur State" be
cause of Its supremacy In the pro
duction of these commodities, also
has earned the right to be called the
“Wool State." In 1032, Its con
tribution to the United States' pile
of wool was about 57,000,000
pounds, or about one-sixth of the
wool produced In this country.
Montana, whose sheep gave up more
thar 32.000.000 pounds In the same
year, ranked next to the I,one Star
state, with Wyoming, Oregon, Utah,
California, New Mexico, Idaho, and
Ohio, each of which produced more
than 15,000,000 pourds, following In
the order named.
As In the case of cotton, his
torians and naturalists have been
stumped by the query, "when and
where was wool first used?" Sheep
and wool are mentioned In the
Bible, and It Is known that the
Romans practiced sheep breeding.
Some of their prize animals wore
Jackets to protect the fleece. Shortly
after the beginning of the Christian
era an Italian took several sheep
from Italy to Spain to breed them
with the native merino sheep. Inci
dentally, the merino sheep produced
the finest wools, and have been bred
with many other Inferior sheep to
Improve the latter’s fleece.
The growth of the wool Industry
In the United States has been phe
nomenal. Two years after Capt.
John Smith and his followers land
ed on the Virginia coast the first
sheep were Introduced Into America
at their settlement Twenty-one
years later a shipment of the fleecy
animals from Europe was landed on
the Massachusetts coast. Indians'
appetites, predatory animals and se
vere winter* made serious Inroads
on the colonial flocks, so most of
the animals were kept Inside town
walls, on Islands, and on peninsulas
fenced off from the mainland.
Growth of the Wool Industry.
As cotton clothed thfe colonists of
the South, wool clothed those of the
North. Private homes then were
America's woolen factories. The
American wool trade b**;an when
sheep-owning families exchanged
their wool and surplus homespun for
other commodities. With the In
crease In colonial population the de
mand for wool cloth rose and the
federal government as well as lo
cal governments encouraged wool
growing.
By 1810, Just two centuries after
the sheep arrived from England,
there were 7,000,000 sheep graslng
over the settled area of eastern
United States. Four years afterward
there were 10,000,000. About this
time foreign wool flooded the United
States markets and the wool Indus
try was as hard-hit as other Indus
tries, In the panic of 1819.
As large American cities and
towns took form, demand for home
spun waned and factory-made wool
ens took their place. Prices paid
for wool by manufacturers encour
aged sheep raising so that by 1840
the range of the animals had spread
from the Atlantic to every state
east of the Mississippi, as well as
to Missouri and Louisiana.
With the western migration In
the mlddle of the last century went
sheep. By 1860, Iowa, Wisconsin,
Minnesota, Arkansas, Texas, Cali
fornia and the areas that now are
Oregon and Arizona, Joined the wool
growing reg ons. Two decades later,
there was not a state In the Union
that did not have a sheep popula
tion of at least 50,000. By 1933 the
“national flock” had grown to more
than 50,000,000.
To sheep, many regions of the
world owe at least partially their
discovery and growth, for these ani
mals often have been the compan
ions of pioneers. Magellanes (for
merly Punta Arenas), Chile, the
southernmost city of South America,
was saved by the fleecy animals. The
city was an Important coaling and
ship supply station for craft doubl
ing Cape Horn before the comple
tion of the Panama canal. The
canal stripped It of former prestige,
and even many of Its staunchest citi
zens prophesied Its doom. Smart
business men, however, saw the pos
sibilities of sheep Industry on the
surrounding mainland and nearby
Islands, and turned their faces from
the sea to the land for their liveli
hood. Thanks to sheep, Magellanes
still is a thriving port.
How Fleecas Are Handled.
While, In a few remote regions of
the United States, homespun is
worn, factories have almost entirely
erased the home Industry from this
country. One of the several hun
dred modern American manufactur
ing companies normally operates 00
wool mills that employ 40,000 work
ers. A display of ohe company re
cently Included 3.500 different styles
of wool fabrics.
Wool greatly differs In quality.
The same breed of sheep In the
same country may produce different
qualities of wool. The best wool
grows on a sheep's shoulders and
sides.
When a sheep Is sheared the fleece
holds together. The whole fleece
then Is tied and with other com
plete fleeces Is placed for shipment
In bags containing from 100 to 500
pounds each.
At the factory expert workmen
sort the wool. Some sorting tables
are covered with wire netting
through which dust and other loos*
foreign matter falls while the sort
ers tear the fleeces apart. In some
wool-growing countries wool Is
washed before It Is sheared from
the sheep. Unwashed fleeces con
tain grease from the skins of the
animals. After sorting, the wool Is
scoured by passing It through a se
ries of vats of warm, soapy water.
From ths washers It Is conveyed to
drying rooms and thence to card
ing rooms where It begins the Jour
ney that ends In woolen cloth and
other woolen products. Worsted
fabrics are made of yarn whose
fibers are parallel, while woolens are
made of fibers crossed and mixed.
Wool is constantly moving In com
mere*. Although the United States
normally produces about one-tenth
of the world's annual wool clip, It
Is only a little more than half of
the wool required by American
cloth and carpet manufacturers.
American manufacturers call upon
the wool growers of Australia, Ar
gentina, Uruguay, South Africa,
China, England, and many leas im
portant wool producing countries ter
additional raw material. England
Is the leading Importer of wool, for
most of the export wool from all
the leading wool producing regions
of the globe Is shipped to British
markets. Much of It la reshlpped to
other countries. London la the
largest wool market of the world.