
The new rooster caused a great stir in the barnyard.  From resplendent comb
to defiant spurs, he was the picture of young bantamhood.  Almost immediately
upon arrival, he was greeted by and elderly rooster who took him behind the
barn and whispered in his ear: "Young fellow, I'm long past my prime.  All I
want now is peace and solitude.  So you take over right now as ruler of the
roost with my blessings."
	The newcomer did just that.  He went about his squirely duties as only
a young rooster could.  After several days, however, the elder rooster again
took the young champion behind the barn.  "Kid," he said, "the hens are after
me for giving up my position so readily.  So why don't we have a race, say,
ten laps around the farmhouse?  The winner becomes undisputed keeper of the
henhouse and the hens will stop nagging me.
	The young rooster, with only contempt for his elder, agreed.  
Surprisingly, the older one jumped off to an early lead.  His counterpart, 
weakened by the activities of the previous week, was never quite able to
overtake him.  As they rounded the barn for the fourth time, the elder rooster 
maintained a formidable lead.
	Suddenly, a shotgun blast rang out.  The young rooster fell in the 
dust, his plumage riddled with buckshot.
	"Dammit, Emmy," said the farmer.  "That's the last rooster we buy
from Ferguson.  Four of 'em this month, and every one's been queer."
