HAPPY HOLLOW FARM 111 



; I mean when he's stripped for action, hell 

 look mightily puffed up and proud. 



This chicken doesn't come into the house by 

 the back way and stay in the kitchen till din- 

 ner's ready. He comes right on into the big 

 living-room and lies on the table in a deep pan, 

 so that folks may walk around him and admire 

 him and be getting acquainted with his points. 

 An hour or so before the real cooking starts 

 I've built up one of those roaring fires of hick- 

 ory and oak in the great fireplace, piling it 

 high, coaxing the brick lining to glow red with 

 ardent heat. When it can't get any hotter, 

 then the chicken is hung from the stone mantel, 

 head down, by a heavy string with a short wire 

 leader, as close to the blaze as possible without 

 touching it. A dripping pan, holding pepper 

 and salt, lies on the hearth beneath him. Stand- 

 ing at one side, with a big spoon tied at the end 

 of a long stick, I start him to turning slowly, 

 very slowly. I have to shield my face against 

 the heat ; but that's all right. Nothing less in 

 the way of a fire will do. 



It's only a minute or two till the drip starts, 

 and in five minutes the yellow skin begins to 

 crisp and blacken. If you aren't used to any- 

 thing but those lean and thready chickens of 



