Then I set Bagley to work with the cart spreading upon the soil the barn-yard compost that had accumulated since spring. There was not enough to cover all the ground, but that I could not help. The large pile of compost that I had made near the poultry-house door could not be spared for this purpose, since it was destined for my August planting of strawberries. Perhaps I may as well explain about these compost heaps now as at any other time. I had watched their rapid growth with great satisfaction. Some may dislike such homely details, but since the success of the farm and garden depend on them I shall not pass them over, leaving the fastidious reader to do this for himself. It will be remembered that I had sought to prepare myself for country life by much reading and study during the previous winter. I had early been impressed with the importance of obtaining and saving everything that would enrich the soil, and had been shown that increasing the manure-pile was the surest way to add to one's bank account. Therefore all rakings of leaves had been saved. At odd times Merton and I had gone down to the creek with the cart and dug a quantity of rich black earth from near its bank. One pile of this material had been placed near the stable door, and another at the entrance to the poultry-room in the basement of our vanished barn. The cleanings of the horse-stable had been spread over a layer of this black soil. When the layer of such cleanings was about a foot thick, spread evenly, another layer of earth covered all from sun and rain. Thus I had secured a pile of compost which nearly top-dressed an acre for fodder corn. In the poultry-room we managed in this fashion. A foot of raked-up leaves and rich earth was placed under the perches of the fowls. Every two or three weeks this layer was shovelled out and mixed thoroughly, and was replaced by a new layer. As a result I had, by the 1st of August, a large heap of fertilizer almost as good as guano, and much safer to use, for I had read that unless the latter was carefully managed it would burn vegetation like fire. I believe that this compost-heap by the poultry-room window would give my young strawberry plantation a fine start, and, as has been shown, we were making great calculations on the future fruit. I also resolved that the burning of the barn should add to our success in this direction. All the books said that there was nothing better for strawberries than wood ashes, and of these there was a great heap within the foundations of the destroyed building. At one time I proposed to shovel out these ashes and mix them with the compost, but fortunately I first consulted my book on fertilizers, and read there that this would not do at all--that they should be used separately. CHAPTER XXXVIII AUGUST WORK AND PLAY